As a child, you have three kinds of uncles. The ones who don’t know the date of
your birthday. The ones who send a card. And the ones who come to your birthday
parties. Gary was one of the latter. And when I received my Eagle Scout Award
when I was 17 years old, Gary was there just as proud as my own father at the
accomplishment.
Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes and Speakman brand showerheads. These are two products that to anyone else have absolutely no connection whatsoever. When I was about 3 or 4 years old, Gary introduced me to Frosted Flakes. It just happened to be his breakfast on a day we were visiting Grandma and Grandpa’s house. It’s not like I eat them regularly or even that I remember any other breakfast he ever ate, but I have never once seen them in a store or eaten them without thinking of him. In the summer of 1992 I was living in Gary’s house and one day he came home really excited. When he showed me what was in his bag, my enthusiasm considerably paled. It was a box containing one Speakman brand showerhead. He explained that it was a showerhead that was used exclusively by one of the major luxury hotel chains. I have no idea how he heard about them or where he had used one, but since I was living there, it took less than 24 hours for me to take my first shower with this showerhead. I was converted instantly to a believer and have bought and used a Speakman brand showerheads in every shower I have owned since then. If you ever take a shower at my place (save Razdol’noye where I don’t even have hot water) in Clifton Park, you will use the exact model that he was so jazzed about and is one of the first things I have bought for every new living space I have been in since. Every time I buy a Speakman, I think of Gary.
In 1976 the government resumed production of the discontinued $2 bill. I was 6 years old. When you are 6 the most money you have probably owned at one time came from the tooth fairy. So, imagine my surprise when Gary handed me a brand-spanking-new, crisp $2 bill and said it was mine to keep! I had never seen one yet and surely never owned that much money. We were at Grandma and Grandpa’s lake house and since there wasn’t much to do there, we took a walk. The route wasn’t long, and frankly there wasn’t much to see, but hey, that was a time passer. Surely I was thinking of what to do with this money. Would I spend it? Would I save it? I probably asked more than a few times how much things that a 6 year old would want to buy, cost. I kept taking it out of my pocket to look at it and then stuffing it back in, making no connection of how crisp bills stayed…well, crisp. The walk wasn’t long. But it was long enough for just one thing- for me to lose the damn $2 bill! Oh, the deflation of winning the lottery, only to misplace the winning ticket! We both never forgot that incident. And even with my poor money handling skills as a youngster I was able, in later years, to gain his trust with anything, including money.
When I had my learners permit, my dad would take me out to practice driving. We had a Chevrolet Chevette that was damn near impossible for me to get the hang of. Not only did I not know how to drive a standard shift, I didn’t know how to drive, period! I was a poor student and my father (although admirably trying his best) wasn’t the best teacher for me. It didn’t take long for me to favor the family’s automatic shift car and soon I was learning on that instead of the ‘vette. Well, one weekend Gary came to visit in his hot, new sports car. A Toyota MR-2 and he offered to take me out to practice driving standard. It would be years later that I would really understand and learn how to drive a standard shift, but taking a 16 year old out to drive a sports car was just about the coolest thing anyone could have done.
In the summer of 1988, Gary had come to visit our house for the weekend. On the morning of July 26 he had gone to Saratoga Springs with my dad and walked into a restaurant. When they returned to the house Gary said that I would never guess who they saw in Saratoga. Whether we guessed or not was irrelevant, but it turns out that the person they saw in the restaurant was the one and only Robert Plant. I told them that that made 100% sense since Plant was performing a concert that night in Saratoga. A short time later Gary said that they had rearranged their schedules to stay an extra night and wanted to know if I wanted to go see the Robert Plant show with them. I did. And we did. Today, I call it the first time I ever saw Cheap Trick in concert, but nonetheless, Gary was the reason I was there.
In the winter of 1992 I got a job in New York City. Having only been to New York one time as an adult, I was overwhelmed by the move. Here I was, thrust into a situation, that if I thought about it too long, probably would have passed on out of fear of the unknown. My first day of work was a Saturday and I had to report to a construction site in downtown Manhattan early. Gary lived in northern New Jersey and with some explanation from my dad, he agreed to help me get to where I needed to be. On Friday I went down to New Jersey and spent my last unemployed night sleeping at his house. He made good on his promise and all was good. The job was cool, but the biggest downside for me was having to live in a motel out of a suitcase and if I ever left for the weekend, I had to pack everything and check out of my room and move back in the next day or so. The inconvenience was high and the comfort level was low. When I learned that my temporary employment was being extended to a more permanent position, I asked Gary if there was any way I could live with him for a little while. By the end of May 1992 I was moving out of the Comfort Inn in Jersey City, NJ and into 73 Rutherford Place in Kearney. I stayed there for the whole summer. During that summer he told me of their plans to add a baby to the household. Up until that point, it was probably the closest I had ever been to a man expecting to be a father. He was so excited and kept me informed of any developments on a daily basis. I knew I was going to need to make other arrangements, and by the last days of summer I was more comfortable with New York City and moved myself into the city to be closer to action and give him and his family the space they needed. It was around this time that I figured that since he was one hell of an uncle he was going to be a pretty awesome dad.
Lastly, when I was 4 years old, my family moved from New Jersey to France. I was too young to remember most of the experience, especially the leaving from New Jersey part. My parents wound up selling almost everything they owned because there was just no way they could have taken it with them. I had a painted picture of a clown in my room and being so young, I couldn’t even say what attracted me to it, other than the colors. Well, at the house/garage sale that was held for liquidation purposes, unbeknownst to me, my uncle Gary bought the picture. We didn’t live in France for more than a year and we were back in New Jersey with my parents figuring out what to do. It was when we came back that Gary gave me the painting that he had bought specifically for this purpose. I kept that painting until 1992- when he asked if he could have it for his newly born daughter’s room. That’s the kind of guy he was.
Forget that he was my uncle, he was just a nice guy. A funny guy. An honest guy. And the reason there will be a void at our next family barbecue.
Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes and Speakman brand showerheads. These are two products that to anyone else have absolutely no connection whatsoever. When I was about 3 or 4 years old, Gary introduced me to Frosted Flakes. It just happened to be his breakfast on a day we were visiting Grandma and Grandpa’s house. It’s not like I eat them regularly or even that I remember any other breakfast he ever ate, but I have never once seen them in a store or eaten them without thinking of him. In the summer of 1992 I was living in Gary’s house and one day he came home really excited. When he showed me what was in his bag, my enthusiasm considerably paled. It was a box containing one Speakman brand showerhead. He explained that it was a showerhead that was used exclusively by one of the major luxury hotel chains. I have no idea how he heard about them or where he had used one, but since I was living there, it took less than 24 hours for me to take my first shower with this showerhead. I was converted instantly to a believer and have bought and used a Speakman brand showerheads in every shower I have owned since then. If you ever take a shower at my place (save Razdol’noye where I don’t even have hot water) in Clifton Park, you will use the exact model that he was so jazzed about and is one of the first things I have bought for every new living space I have been in since. Every time I buy a Speakman, I think of Gary.
In 1976 the government resumed production of the discontinued $2 bill. I was 6 years old. When you are 6 the most money you have probably owned at one time came from the tooth fairy. So, imagine my surprise when Gary handed me a brand-spanking-new, crisp $2 bill and said it was mine to keep! I had never seen one yet and surely never owned that much money. We were at Grandma and Grandpa’s lake house and since there wasn’t much to do there, we took a walk. The route wasn’t long, and frankly there wasn’t much to see, but hey, that was a time passer. Surely I was thinking of what to do with this money. Would I spend it? Would I save it? I probably asked more than a few times how much things that a 6 year old would want to buy, cost. I kept taking it out of my pocket to look at it and then stuffing it back in, making no connection of how crisp bills stayed…well, crisp. The walk wasn’t long. But it was long enough for just one thing- for me to lose the damn $2 bill! Oh, the deflation of winning the lottery, only to misplace the winning ticket! We both never forgot that incident. And even with my poor money handling skills as a youngster I was able, in later years, to gain his trust with anything, including money.
When I had my learners permit, my dad would take me out to practice driving. We had a Chevrolet Chevette that was damn near impossible for me to get the hang of. Not only did I not know how to drive a standard shift, I didn’t know how to drive, period! I was a poor student and my father (although admirably trying his best) wasn’t the best teacher for me. It didn’t take long for me to favor the family’s automatic shift car and soon I was learning on that instead of the ‘vette. Well, one weekend Gary came to visit in his hot, new sports car. A Toyota MR-2 and he offered to take me out to practice driving standard. It would be years later that I would really understand and learn how to drive a standard shift, but taking a 16 year old out to drive a sports car was just about the coolest thing anyone could have done.
In the summer of 1988, Gary had come to visit our house for the weekend. On the morning of July 26 he had gone to Saratoga Springs with my dad and walked into a restaurant. When they returned to the house Gary said that I would never guess who they saw in Saratoga. Whether we guessed or not was irrelevant, but it turns out that the person they saw in the restaurant was the one and only Robert Plant. I told them that that made 100% sense since Plant was performing a concert that night in Saratoga. A short time later Gary said that they had rearranged their schedules to stay an extra night and wanted to know if I wanted to go see the Robert Plant show with them. I did. And we did. Today, I call it the first time I ever saw Cheap Trick in concert, but nonetheless, Gary was the reason I was there.
In the winter of 1992 I got a job in New York City. Having only been to New York one time as an adult, I was overwhelmed by the move. Here I was, thrust into a situation, that if I thought about it too long, probably would have passed on out of fear of the unknown. My first day of work was a Saturday and I had to report to a construction site in downtown Manhattan early. Gary lived in northern New Jersey and with some explanation from my dad, he agreed to help me get to where I needed to be. On Friday I went down to New Jersey and spent my last unemployed night sleeping at his house. He made good on his promise and all was good. The job was cool, but the biggest downside for me was having to live in a motel out of a suitcase and if I ever left for the weekend, I had to pack everything and check out of my room and move back in the next day or so. The inconvenience was high and the comfort level was low. When I learned that my temporary employment was being extended to a more permanent position, I asked Gary if there was any way I could live with him for a little while. By the end of May 1992 I was moving out of the Comfort Inn in Jersey City, NJ and into 73 Rutherford Place in Kearney. I stayed there for the whole summer. During that summer he told me of their plans to add a baby to the household. Up until that point, it was probably the closest I had ever been to a man expecting to be a father. He was so excited and kept me informed of any developments on a daily basis. I knew I was going to need to make other arrangements, and by the last days of summer I was more comfortable with New York City and moved myself into the city to be closer to action and give him and his family the space they needed. It was around this time that I figured that since he was one hell of an uncle he was going to be a pretty awesome dad.
Lastly, when I was 4 years old, my family moved from New Jersey to France. I was too young to remember most of the experience, especially the leaving from New Jersey part. My parents wound up selling almost everything they owned because there was just no way they could have taken it with them. I had a painted picture of a clown in my room and being so young, I couldn’t even say what attracted me to it, other than the colors. Well, at the house/garage sale that was held for liquidation purposes, unbeknownst to me, my uncle Gary bought the picture. We didn’t live in France for more than a year and we were back in New Jersey with my parents figuring out what to do. It was when we came back that Gary gave me the painting that he had bought specifically for this purpose. I kept that painting until 1992- when he asked if he could have it for his newly born daughter’s room. That’s the kind of guy he was.
Forget that he was my uncle, he was just a nice guy. A funny guy. An honest guy. And the reason there will be a void at our next family barbecue.
In 1999, my wedding reception guest list was exactly 11
people long. Gary was on it.
My dad, with his brother Gary and mother-in-law, my Grandma Doris in NYC May 1999
Sim-- this is a perfect way to describe Gary! I couldnt have said it better... I remember he had the model cars, especially the Mercedes 300SL gull wing or taking me of my first ride on a motorcycle... what a sad day. He will be missed.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Sim. You say it so well. He really was one of the Good Guys.
ReplyDelete