pyroguysr's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ONLY THE GOOD DIE YOUNG A little over a week ago, I found out that my eldest cousin had died. He was 57 years old - 6 years older than me - a genuinely nice person and probably the most successful of anyone in my family, having risen to the title of VP Operations for a major semi-conductor company. A few years back, he retired because his wife's parents were ill. Bert had it all. He truly loved what he did. He had a drop-dead-gorgeous, intelligent and down-to-earth wife (she never looked down upon any of us Polacks and found some of our quirks to be "endearing.") He sired three wonderful and intelligent kids and left a little bit of a mark upon the world... Bert was one of 8 kids in his family. My Uncle Leo couldn't afford to pay for college, so Bert played football, got a scholarship, mowed lawns, pumped gas and did other things to put himself through Purdue School of Engineering. I'm not sure, but I think he was a benchwarmer for most of his 4 years there and probably played in only 1 game... and for only a few moments of the last game of his senior year. In March of 1989, when I had to go up to Los Angeles to take my series 7 (stockbroker) exam, Bert had just moved to L.A. from Pocatello, Idaho (Lori, his wife, was in the process of selling their house). I stayed with Bert that night and, instead of us both studying (he'd just taken a job with Rockwell as Production GM) we spent the night talking and catching up. You see, Bert didn't have many cousins his age when he was growing up. He was the second oldest (his sister being the oldest) and he admitted that night to being jealous of me. My cousins, (in order) Tom, Eric, (myself) and his younger brother, Ken, were all born within 12 months of each other and were actually closer to each other than we were our own siblings. Bert didn't have that relationship... plus, being the oldest boy, he had to be the "icebreaker" in a lot of things. But, driven by borderline poverty, he rose up. I looked up to him, respected him and marveled at him. Had I known he'd moved to Florida, I would have stopped in to check up on him during my trip. It's what we did as family - just like he checked up on my brother, Mike, when he had his accident in California that put him in the hospital for 9 weeks. We were family and that counted for something. But all the patriarchs have died off in the family... First was Ray, then my dad, then Bert's dad, Leo. We are drifting apart... I'll miss you, Bert. You should have been around for a long, long time, not cut down by an excruciatingly painful form of cancer at such a young age. Your dad lived to 80, my dad to 75 and Ray to 70 You were too young... and far to cool to die. 1:40 a.m. - 2006-04-26 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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