Saturday, April 20, 2024
As young adults, my bothers and I used to speculate about the identities of our real fathers. Although we were obviously raised under the same roof, anyone who knows us can easily see that it was impossible for three such different personalities to be derived from the same egg and sperm donors. S ince we were told that we all were delivered from one womb, our emphasis moved to picking out our real fathers. There were several strong contenders, but Mr. Holland the shoe store owner, Frank the floor waxer, the door-to-door Fuller Brush salesman, and Pat the butcher were the most likely candidates. Then, part two of this exercise was to correctly pair a father and son.
Joe’s most likely match was Frank, the floor waxer. He was hard working since he was also a fireman. He had a smooth demeaner and could easily maintain a steady conversation with my mother during the hour that it took each week to clean our linoleum floors. And, he was a bit earthier than the other nominees. After all, he sported the first tattoo that I had ever seen.
I think those traits help to define my brother Joe. I never knew anyone who could connect with strangers faster. As kids, I used to marvel at how quickly he would make new friends at sleep-away camp or while on vacation.
Similarly, I had no doubt that Frank, the floor waxer, knew how to find trouble, and Joe was also skilled at challenging the authorities. I vividly remember Joe instigating vacation stunts when we filled the lobby fountains with dishwashing soap at The Granite Hotel in the Catskills and the Deauville Hotel in Miami Beach. I also remember a youthful adventure when the three brothers got to test our underage driving skills on a quiet suburban road in our father’s 1961 Mercury Comet, which miraculously returned to the garage intact.
Joe was five years older than me. As kids, that gap represented a lifetime, and we didn’t share many experiences. I also earned the reputation as the “best little boy in the world”, whereas Joe, well, did not. However, one standout moment occurred shortly after Joe had an actual drivers license. He offered to take me to a Mets game at Shea Stadium. While I was never a sports enthusiast, we spent this evening together enjoying each other’s company while dining on hot dogs, and creating a fraternal bond. The evening also happened to be Fan Appreciation Day, and every attendee left the park with a Mets bobblehead figure. I still cherish that evening and proudly displayed my bobblehead on my bedroom dresser for years.
Joe was the quintessential chick magnet! He was adept at picking perfect partners, who balanced his imperfections. Unfortunately, the experience was not always mutual, and he went through three divorces. Joe then met Jill who lovingly partnered with him for more than 20 years. Their commitment endured for many good years, and Jill did not run away when Joe’s health declined. My heart goes out to Jill during this difficult time. Although I lost a brother, I hope that I have gained a sister-in-law in the process.
