Friday, July 10 Minneapolis was a planned two day break from the road. I checked my voicemail on the first day. My sister-in-law left a message that my cousin in Chicago had died of a heart attack while he slept. Heart racing, I dialed relatives and my cousin's home. No one answered. I didn't know the schedule for the funeral. I stood there in disbelief, and relived happy childhood times. Our summer vacations started earlier than we ever had to get up in the summer. Packing ham, potato salad and other goodies, we drove the old '55 Chevy down the interstate from just outside Pittsburgh to Chicago for our annual ritual. Even though Tony was four years younger than me, we played as cousins play. We sprayed each other in the plastic pool while my uncle took 8mm movies. We bicycled all over the suburb, sneaking up to the train tracks to flatten coins. I watched my two cousins practice accordion - they were both state champs with so many trophies that, after the shelves were filled, they started to line the basement. We went to museums and gawked at dinosauers and watched wide-eyed as huge fish streaked the glass. It was always an adventure. The excitement of the big city, playing with my cousins, eating vast amounts of German cooking. I could see him peeking out from under my uncle's hat. Feel him on my back. Smell my aunt's roulades. Hear the clicking of the bass keys as his fingers danced on both ends of the squeeze box. At Tony's wedding we mugged for the photographer with Tux's and no pants. The memories came in a torrent.
Tony was accomplished as an adult, too. He practiced internal medicine at a Catholic hospital in Chicago. 3,000 people attended his wake, some waiting two hours to view him in the casket. I'll always remember him during those wonderful hot summers, rambuncious fun in two week doses, year after seemingly endless year. Rest well, cousin.
A disarming and emboldening recollection. Thanks for sharing it, Rob.
Posted by: robert | July 11, 2004 at 10:50 AM