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FOR ELEANOR J. HYNES
7/1/41 – 1/12/23
An obituary:
Eleanor J. Hynes, affectionately known as El, passed away at the age of 81 on Staten Island, NY. She was born the oldest of the 1941 Brooklyn triplets, followed by William and David. They moved with their parents and siblings to the St. George neighborhood of SI at the age of five. Eleanor enjoyed spending time with her family at different events: They were always her center. Another big part of her social life was with her “work family” who she kept in touch with for a long time. Those who knew Eleanor best often saw her fiery personality come through. When she’d see you and want to catch up, she’d ask, “What are the doings?” or “What’s doing?” She never drove or owned a car, it simply wasn't an item for her to do. Many people in the neighborhood knew her from her walking around from store to store, sometimes multiple times a day. She could always be identified by her sunglasses and interesting hat choices. Eleanor worked at the Institute of Basic Research on SI, as a laboratory assistant; her primary role was to make sure that the equipment and instruments were cleaned and ready to use. She held this position for decades until she retired. Eleanor was a devoted parishioner of St. Sylvester's church for a number of years. She practiced her religion regularly throughout her life, and attended community events through the church. She always loved dogs, but became more of a cat person in her later years. She rescued her pets and took them in from others who couldn’t keep them. She never cared for traveling long distances, but she enjoyed trips to Atlantic City. Another pastime of hers was playing the lottery and scratch off tickets. As an avid baseball spectator, she was both a Yankees fan and a Mets fan, and very passionate about the sport. She adored chicken wings and other simple pleasures of life, and Big Band music was often heard on her radio at home. She always rooted for the underdog, and would give you the shirt off her back if she knew you needed it. She will be very much missed by her loved ones. Eleanor is predeceased by Catherine “Margie” Sweeney, Thomas J. Hynes Sr., Mary D. Nulanz, John F. Hynes, Lawrence E. Hynes, David R. Hynes, William M. Hynes Sr., Robert G. Hynes Sr., Walter J. Hynes, and is survived by Gloria Kelly and Margaret Byrne. Family and friends will be received at the Martin Hughes Funeral Home, 530 Narrows Road S in Concord, on January 17th, 2023 from 7-9PM, and January 18th, 2023 from 2-4PM and 7-9PM. There will be a Mass of Christian Burial on January 19th at St. Sylvester’s at 10AM, followed by the committal at the Cemetery of the Resurrection.
FOR JOSEPH PATRICK WUENSCH SR.
An obituary:
Joseph Patrick Wuensch Sr., 80, passed away on November 13th, 2022. He was born and raised in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn with his parents and siblings. Joseph is predeceased by his father Joseph, his mother Marion and his sister Carolyn. He is survived by his wife Sara (née Ennis) of 59 years, his son Joseph Jr., his daughter Elizabeth Halaby and her husband Jack, his sister Patricia and brother Thomas. Joseph prided himself on being a family man. He was a dedicated husband and father who was known as PopPop to his precious granddaughters, Kelsey, Victoria, Gabrielle, Samantha, Grace, and Catherine. Joseph graduated from Brooklyn Prep High School. He went on to college, and received a B.A. in Economics from Fordham University. The next phase of his life included his extraordinary career, where Joseph worked for 58 years for the city of New York. He started in the New York City Department of Social Services. He then became the Assistant Budget Director for the Mayor’s office. In 1987, he was sworn in as the Deputy Commissioner of Management and Budget for the New York City Police Department, and subsequently as the NYPD’s Chief of Staff, until his retirement in 2014. For many years, he was known throughout Staten Island as a premier softball pitcher, most especially for his crafty knuckle ball. He played for the Granite Athletic Club as a part of Staten Island’s ASA Major Modified Fast Pitch Division. He competed in several national tournaments, and earned First Team All American Honors in 1979. It was an ongoing inside joke that he actually had two full time jobs, one as a softball player and the other with the police department, because of his unyielding passion for the sport. He was an avid sportsman overall, and loved his Yankees. He was also an active member of the NYPD’s Holy Name Society, and Emerald Society. Not even retirement could slow Joseph down, for he was always in perpetual motion. He spent a great deal of time with family and friends at his lake house in Culver Lake, making terrific memories. He enjoyed his motorboat, water sports, and sailing on the Catamaran. He took such pride in his home and boat. Joseph doted on his wife, among many sweet gestures, he would bring her a cup of tea every morning: She was his constant steady. In lieu of flowers, the family asks that donations be made at www.answerthecall.org, a cause close to Joseph’s heart. Family and friends will be received at the Martin Hughes Funeral Home, 530 Narrows Road S in Concord, on Tuesday November 15th from 7:00-9:00 PM, and Wednesday November 16th from 2:00-4:00 PM and 7:00-9:00 PM. A mass will be held for Joseph at Our Lady of Angels Church on Thursday November 17th, followed by the committal at the Cemetery of the Resurrection.
FOR FRANK J. TURANO
An obituary:
7/21/1938 - 8/15/2022
Frank J. Turano Sr., 84, crossed over and is finally at peace. He passed away in his sleep in Florida, after a four-year battle with brain cancer. He led a happy and fulfilled life for over eight decades. Frank is survived by his loving wife Barbara, his son Frank, his daughter-in-law Marguerite, his daughter Marianne, five grandchildren: Frankie, Taylor, Alessandra, Jordan and Anthony, his brothers Louis Turano Jr., Michael Turano and his wife Denise, sister Carol Ladone and her husband Bob, and his brothers-in-law Patrick Taranto, his wife Carla, and Danny Taranto and his wife Joanne. Frank is predeceased by his parents Louis and Angelina ‘Lee’. His father was the most influential person in Frank’s life, and he had a tremendous amount of respect for him. Frank was born in Manhattan, and grew up in the Bronx. As a young man he worked for his dad’s businesses. Frank served in the United States army, and was stationed in Germany. He was very proud of his service to his country, and had lots of colorful stories to tell when he returned home. He was above all, a family man: he was a great provider, and he took pride in making a nice home for him and his family. He was especially meticulous about his garden, and his house was always the envy of the neighborhood. Frank was an amateur carpenter, and built many things such as a deck in the back of his home in Massachusetts with his longtime friend, Spencer Hayes; the two men were inseparable. There are happy memories for his son, Frank Jr., during the years when they spent time on their boat, in Locust Point Marina. The father and son duo had a lot of fun with the boat, despite the endless upkeep. Frank settled into a career as a Marketing Manager with a phone company, and he held that position until he retired. In retirement he often played golf with his good friends Hank and Ruth ‘Bunny’ Pratti. During these years, he took the time with Barbara to further enjoy their life together. The two traveled all over to many different places. Frank enjoyed his travels and was fascinated by all the places he’d been to, such as Alaska and different countries in Europe. Frank and Barbara loved to cook together. Frank was a pretty good cook and baker; and even more so, he used to love to eat. As husband and wife, they had a great time entertaining in their beautiful home, and loved to be surrounded by family and friends. Frank loved to dance. He was a loving husband, devoted father, and adoring grandfather, who’ll be missed very much. In lieu of flowers, please make a donation in his name to the Tunnel To Towers Foundation. Family and friends will be received at the Martin Hughes Funeral Home 530 Narrows Road S in Concord on August 21, at 2:00-4:00 & 7:00-9:00 PM. A mass will be held for Frank at Saint Clare's Church, 110 Nelson Avenue, Staten Island, NY 10308 on August 22, 11:00 AM, followed by the committal at the Moravian Cemetery.
FOR BERNADETTE RUGGERIO
An Obituary:
November 16, 1924 - July 18, 2022
Bernadette A. Ruggiero, of Staten Island, NY, passed peacefully in her sleep at the marvelous age of 97. It is a blessing to pass on from natural causes, and to live such a long and happy life. Bernadette was born and raised in the Flatbush neighborhood of Brooklyn, NY. Growing up in a large family during the Great Depression was not without its challenges, but there was so much love in the home. Bernadette had five sisters and one brother who she was very close with. Throughout her childhood, she attended Catholic school, she made excellent grades and was a great student who loved to learn. In 1940, at age 16, she volunteered in a factory during WWII to make goods for American soldiers: she, like so many of her generation, did her part for the war effort and believed in the cause. She met her future husband during this time. Moving out to Long Island in 1956, was a highlight in her life: she enjoyed those years and raising her children. After being a mother and homemaker, she worked for Metropolitan Life Insurance for 32 years, in the World Trade Center. She found it very exciting to work in the city. After retirement Bernadette enjoyed time with her family, who vacationed in Cape Cod, Block Island, Martha’s Vineyard, Virginia, and Canada. She delighted in taking trips and traveling: she was the reader of the map, a fantastic copilot for countless adventures. Throughout her life, Bernadette enjoyed being a homebody in her own element. She was an avid gardener of plants and vegetables. She enjoyed playing games on the computer such as FreeCell and Monopoly. She lived by the simple things in life. She read countless books over the years, and truly appreciated reading, especially books by John Grisham. Bernadette is survived by her son, Gregory, six grandchildren, and six great grandchildren. She was predeceased by her daughter Margaret and her son Gene. Her committed and loving son Gregory took care of her for many years, until the very end, and was her solace. This sense of devotion is such a rare gem. She’ll hear the infamous, “Hey Ma” from heaven. Few people are so complacent in life, and so extraordinarily pleasant: Bernadette was forever a positive person, accepting of and helpful to others, she was the epitome of peace and happiness. She possessed the quality of shyness but was also gregarious and full of life. She made for excellent company for family and friends. Bernadette loved to laugh and laughed often: this is one factor that led to her living just a few years shy of a century. Family and friends will be received at the Martin Hughes Funeral Home, 530 Narrows Road S in Concord, on Saturday 9-9:30 AM. A mass will then be held for Bernadette at Saint Ann's Roman Catholic Church in Dongan Hills, followed by the committal at the Moravian Cemetery.
FOR THURLAND JOHNSTON
A eulogy:
Good morning, my name is Scott Johnston, and I’m TJ’s fourth child. I’m speaking on behalf of my siblings, Tim, Rick, his favorite daughter Jill, and our little brother, Mike: The five people that owe everything we are today to our loving and dedicated father.
I’d like to thank everyone for joining us here this morning to celebrate and reflect on my father’s life. Each one of you made a sacrifice to be here to pay respects to our father and provide us with support. Your support is so incredibly appreciated because if there’s an effective remedy for grief, it’s your presence here with us, today. Thank you from the bottom of our broken hearts.
Thurland Lowell Johnston was born on December 5th, 1938. His parents were Oscar and Sigrid Johnston, and he grew up on Detroit's East Side with his sister Marilyn. The four of them enjoyed trips to Oscoda before our national highway system was built. As dad’s telling went, it was an all-day trip to get there using side streets, and having to make several stops to prevent the car from overheating.
Dad didn't suffer from a lack of relatives. My grandmother was the eldest of 14 siblings, 13 girls and one boy. From the 14 siblings came an army of cousins for dad and Aunt Marilyn to run around with. He would tell stories about spending the day at Boblo Island with his extended family. You could almost smell my grandmother’s famous fried chicken as he told the story. Dad was close to his cousins until the very end. He kept in touch with everyone, from all walks of his very full life. Every year, he’d call his entire family, plus close friends, and sing, ‘Happy Birthday’. It was painful to listen to, because he’d sing the entire song. But it was something that we eventually looked forward to, just not at the crack of dawn. He said once, “You always say to people, give me a call, it just becomes an unspoken thing, but without meaning.” Actually doing this instead of just saying it was very important to him. This he stood by his whole life.
Dad was accepted to Cass Tech high school with an exceptional grade point average, which would eventually lead him into a lifetime career in machine tool sales. There is still a Cass Tech sweatshirt in his dresser. What he learned at this stage, he carried with him through his career.
He met my mother, Gail Shields, in 1958. He unsuccessfully attempted courting her several times. It wasn’t until he escorted a girl with a physical disability to a dance, that mom finally took notice. Mom was impressed enough by his compassion for this other girl that she agreed to go out with him. She took his hand in marriage on August 19th,1961. He proposed twice before she said yes, but as promised he waited 50 years to give her that diamond ring. The rest, as they say, is history.
Dad was always very good at quickly sizing people up without necessarily judging them based on first impressions. He claimed that this ability helped his success in sales, and I don't doubt that he was correct about that. It gave him the ability to determine who the decision makers were, and who, of his colleagues, would become future decision makers. Dad invited me to play golf with a customer of his when I was about 12 years old. After the round, when we were having lunch, his customer turned to me and whispered, “your dad is the best salesman I have ever known”. I have no idea what made him say this at that particular moment, and to be honest, although I knew it was a compliment, it didn’t mean too much to me at the time. It wasn’t until 20 years later that I got the full picture of that statement. When I was in my 30’s I had the opportunity to work for one of dad’s largest clients, so I saw first hand what that man meant all those years earlier. Machine tool sales isn’t like retail sales because there isn’t just one party that has to be sold on a product. There are multiple departments of people in big corporations that need to agree that your product is the best for them. This is where dad thrived because he had the ability to convince many people of the same thing: that he represents a professional company that can help others to succeed. He gave this impression by building a reputation of having pride in what and who he stood for: hard work, professionalism, and great ethics. Although it’s possible that some people didn’t care for him, I don’t know of anyone who’d disagree that he carried those qualities with him every single day.
Dad took networking to the extreme. The web of people he knew was impressive. We all got accustomed to dad running into someone he knew from work while out running errands, going to dinner, a sporting event, or even stopping at a gas station in the Upper Peninsula. It didn’t matter where we were or even what city we found ourselves in, if there was going to be a crowd, the odds were that at one point during the outing we heard someone yelling, “Hey, TJ!”. It wasn’t something we yearned for as children because it meant 30 minutes of politely listening to adult small talk, which felt like an eternity as a child. But to do anything other than being quiet and polite…well, we were always quiet and polite.
We joke about it now, but it was never a joking matter to dad. He loved people. He loved to go to restaurants, but the food was secondary. Dad was there not to eat but to dine. He loved the whole dining experience, first drinks and an appetizer, then another drink and finally ordering the food. Then came desert and finally espresso, or coffee if espresso was not available. Everything mom hated. In his younger years, a “drink for the road” was part of the norm. He enjoyed the people he was with, family, friends, or the many customers he entertained. He loved the “entertaining” part of sales. Honesty and integrity were very important to him, but his long-term biggest quality was his love for socializing. He loved parties and family gatherings. I’m reminded of Jessica’s wedding: It was a venue with two different ballrooms. Dad dropped the wedding envelope in the envelope box and proceeded to join the party, but in the wrong reception room. He dug out the envelope and rejoined the right wedding with our family about 45 minutes later.
Dad was very generous. He helped people and never asked for something in return. He gave selflessly, and gave generously to many, but quietly. When you’d thank him for something, he never said ‘you’re welcome’, when a simple ‘okay’ would do. He was very organized in some respects and very disorganized in others. He was known to lose things constantly, especially credit cards, and at the most inopportune moments. He enjoyed using his ‘murse’ in the last several years, and carried his entire identity around, including several different currencies. This attempt to keep his things all in one place didn’t always end well, as he constantly misplaced the murse.
Dad could be intimidating and stubborn. He did have a soft spot for his granddaughters, Thurland’s gals, who’re all his favorites. And he never forgot to tell all his grandchildren that he loved them. In other times, you’d get him telling a story that he couldn’t finish because he’d be crying so hard and couldn’t get the words out. It was such a production to tell a story. That roaring laughter was heard around the dinner table from when I was growing up. He’d take his glasses off and wipe his eyes from reflexive tears, and try to continue on. He circled around in his stories–a lot–and sometimes for an hour. But he managed to bring it back to the original idea: for instance, the great pistachio story of 2019.
I couldn’t begin to name the endless memories at the “cottage”. Summers on the lake for 20 years, with 16 grandchildren: the mishaps with wave runners and playing Tonk after dinner. Dad never had a boat up north for reasons we all can attest to. We’d rather not have the Coastguard called out. Dad was better on paper with mechanical engineering, but not so much in practice.
Dad was very much a Catholic: He was baptized later in life, and found a new sense of faith. He fulfilled his greatest life goals of putting his kids through college, retiring on his own terms, and never being too rich or too skinny. He traveled all over the world including Russia, India, Canada, Mexico, and several places in Europe. His favorite place to visit was Paris. He was the best dressed man of 83: He was dapper, even while in the garden and impeccably dressed at all times. He could never say the word documentary. Dad could be rather secretive. Perhaps one of life’s greatest mysteries will be what's hidden in the closet, along with the baskets of coins.
Family was everything to him. Dad said he has had many proud moments in his life. The proudest moment was on Christmas Eve of 2019. He rented out Packard Proving Grounds for our family picture. Our entire family was there. He said he was so proud of everyone, proud that we were all so successful. These successes are a reflection on him as a role model. He said only recently, “I’m so happy and thankful that we (the whole family) are such a close and loving and caring family.” He was the true patriarch of the family, and held the whole family together: He was the pillar, the center, and the nucleus. Dad left an extraordinary legacy of three generations, and an unbelievable void. He’ll be missed more than we could ever say.
FOR STEVEN THORSEN
An obituary:
November 20, 1956 - Jun 19, 2022
Steven Thorsen, 65, of Staten Island, NY, crossed over and is now at peace. He was predeceased by his father Roy Thorsen and his mother Helen Claire. Steven was the beloved husband of Toni Ann, stepfather of Danielle, Alanna, Anthony, and Tory, and grandfather to two grandchildren. Debonair and chivalrous with a remarkable sense of humor, Steven was an all around likable man. Steven was an only child, and loved spending time with his grandparents who owned an inn on the Upper West Side. Though his parents resided in Brooklyn after his father immigrated from Oslo, in his heart Steven was an Italian living on the UWS. He always admired his father for his own successes in his career in engineering to design some of the most renowned structures in NYC, including the Verrazano Bridge.
With such a magnetic personality, Steven’s words and expressions seemed bigger than life when he spoke to you. He was very social and helped to organize events for his battalion even after retiring in 2018. He was proud to be an EMT and to wear his uniform. He was a fighter, who beat the odds throughout his career. From a young age, Steven was a gifted artist; he amazed himself with his ability throughout his lifetime. In order to perfect his techniques, Steven attended numerous art schools. As a licenced master faux artist, Steven was very specific about his art, and over the years he refined his process to marbleize wood. He was renowned for his abilities, and consulted many in the community. Two of Steven’s proudest moments were when the NYC Fire Department commissioned him to paint works of art for Engine 168 and EMS Battalion 123. Steven’s lasting legacy can be seen by others for years to come, and his pieces are displayed in numerous locations.
During his 27 years as an EMT, Steven received many honors and awards for his bravery, sacrifices, and selflessness. He responded to the 9/11 attacks as an ambulance driver, and following that tragedy, he spent countless days at the Fresh Kills landfill to sustain the rescue and recovery efforts. Among his many talents and interests, Steven taught himself to speak Italian in his spare time. He loved fishing, horseback riding, and the beach. His greatest passions were his wife Toni, his art, and of course his treasured cat, Moe. Steven was a true romantic and adored sending Toni cards and flowers: and luckily, she wouldn’t let him get rid of his Picasso. Steven battled his 9/11 related cancer like the hero he was. Family and friends will be received at the Martin Hughes Funeral Home 530 Narrows Road S in Concord on Friday 2-4 & 7-9 PM. A mass will be held for Steven at Our Lady Star of the Sea on Saturday, June 25, 2022 at 10 AM, followed by the committal at the Cemetery of the Resurrection.
https://www.legacy.com/us/obituaries/siadvance/name/steven-thorsen-obituary?n=steven-thorsen&pid=202245479&fhid=30520
FOR MICHAEL HYNES
An obituary:
Michael J. Hynes Sr., 45, of Staten Island, NY, passed away surrounded by family and love. There aren't enough praises to sing for Michael, as we remember the impact he had on others in this world. The youngest of four siblings, Michael was a good man, and he stayed close to a lot of friends that he had since childhood. He loved his neighborhood and was a big-little brother to many families. In his twenties, he acquired a love of traveling and photography. The best part of his life and his greatest achievement was being a father; his children were his world. He enjoyed watching them grow and achieve even the smallest things. He was always present and made that his priority. To the many who loved Michael, he's described as a role model, a positive influence, and as being helpful and inspirational. He is survived by his mother, Veronica Hynes (ne Clifford), his two sons Michael J. Hynes Jr., Dylan J. Hynes, and Brianna Vento, his loving partner Maria Salerno and her daughter Amanda Nunez, his sister Kelly Hynes Barrios and brother-in-law Wayne Barrios, his brother William Hynes and sister-in-law Tanya, his brother Shawn Hynes and sister-in-law Nichol, and five nieces and three nephews. Michael took pride in his work. He was very skilled, and was in facilities management for several years. Michael was a thinker; he was interested in conspiracy theories and sharing his thoughts with others. He also found a good challenge in putting gadgets together, despite how long they took or how difficult they were to finish. Michael became ill five years ago and battled for his health due a few simultaneous ailments. He always remained positive despite all obstacles, and found the right options to get him through the next steps. Many people feel this tragedy, "for the simple fact" that Michael was so easy to love and adore. Family and friends will be received at the Martin Hughes Funeral Home 530 Narrows Road S in Concord Thurs & Fri 2-4 & 7-9 pm. A chapel service will be held for Michael at Martin Hughes on Saturday, June 4, 2022 at 9:30 AM, prior to the burial at the Cemetery of the Resurrection. Martin Hughes Funeral Home 530 Narrows Road S Concord, Staten Island NY 10304 (718) 447-0873
https://www.legacy.com/us/obituaries/siadvance/name/michael-hynes-obituary?id=34989816
For Elaina Marie rose
A Eulogy:
My family and I would like to thank all of you here with us today, and to those tuning in from across the States and from different countries around the world, for your love and support and for honoring Elaina’s memory.
I’ll begin this eulogy with fitting song lyrics for Elaina’s mindset in the end: “He's been trying to tell me to hold tight. But I've been waiting this whole night. And I've been down, across a road or two. But now I've found the velvet sun, that shines on me and you.”
Today we celebrate the life of the wonderfully vivacious person I’m so proud to be able to call my sister. From when she was born, I loved her and wanted to be with her. She was incredible even as a baby. I can remember like it was yesterday, mom, Cristina and I were trying to make Elaina smile for her first birthday photos. She was our perfect baby. A lovely, smiley precious baby.
As a little girl, Elaina was tiny with big beautiful Tweety Bird eyes, which she eventually grew into. She was rather quiet and shy in her early life, which may be hard for some of you to believe. She was our doll, our little girl. I did her hair, and picked out her clothes, and Cristina and I helped take care of her.
I was lucky to have two sisters who I loved equally, though Elaina required much more attention. They shared me well, and we were all so close. What an enchanted childhood we had, with the three of us playing and going for long walks and bike rides, and the girls climbing trees or falling in the pond, and me watching from the side, our summers in Montauk, Connecticut, and the Jersey shore, especially Long Beach Island. Spending holidays and birthdays with our grandparents, aunts, uncles, and all our cousins. The beautiful slow summers. Elaina and I used aliases on vacation, Sebastian and Cecile, and loved to tell tall tales about our lives to people we met. We were blessed to have such nice family time, with dad driving us all over in the camper because mom wouldn’t fly.
Elaina and I had our own language, a sort of gibberish. She’s the only one that knew about my clairvoyant side, having premonitions of the future from such a young age. She encouraged me with it. She knew all my secrets but told me far much less of her own. The irony is that I had a repeated vision of this day as recently as a few weeks before she died. She understood me from the start, and loved me for me. She knew I wanted to play with her toys and not mine, and we played for hours in a world of our own. She said I shaped her imagination with fun and games, dressing up, putting on plays, taking on different personas. In a poem she wrote to me for my 25th birthday, she said how I molded her from a lump of clay. Starting from a young age, wherever we went, she wanted to explore; she’d take my hand and off we went. Life was a perpetual study to her. She was so small up until seven years old that Cristina and I fit her the laundry chute—which was only a three-foot drop. I can remember all the play dates she had with some of you here, when you were all kids. She always had such nice friends.
When we were little kids, mom went to class on Wednesday nights, so dad had the three of us. We called these nights wacky Wednesdays. Elaina of course didn’t like that dinner was not how mom usually did things, and had a good reason in her five-year-old mind as to why. We called her, Miss Know-It-All, and had a song to go with it…this she did not like either. Dad called her the Wiley Coyote Genus. Elaina was truly gifted from such a young age. Her intellect, her charm, her wit. And as we know, she became more outspoken as she grew.
At 10 years old, Elaina started her horseback riding lessons and rode English and Western: she always loved horses and had the opportunity to ride in the most picturesque places in South America, Asia, and Europe. She always felt calm around horses, and riding was one of her favorite pastimes. Once I saw her get thrown from her favorite horse, and luckily she wasn’t hurt and got right back on. As a child and into middle school, Elaina played basketball, Cristina kept score and I was in charge of the clock. Elaina was also a talented artist and loved to draw. Her pictures captured such thought-provoking details.
I don’t think she ever knocked before coming into my room. Especially not when she woke me up with a flashlight in my face to tell me she had a bad dream, and wanted me to tuck her back in bed, or when she thought I’d been napping for long enough and she had to tell me something important. Or when she’d burst in with her little radio and play songs like Sean Paul’s ‘Get Busy’ and she’d say, “time to dance, girlie.” And she’d sneak up and take the most random photos of Cristina and me, which I’m now so glad we have. Elaina loved reading, especially murder mysteries, crime dramas, and of course all the Harry Potter books. Each time we’d see one of the movies she insisted on telling me what was left out from the book…as if I’d know what she was talking about. We’d watch our favorite movies over and over again to be able to recite the lines in haphazard places. She always sat next to me when we went to a restaurant with family or friends, to make sure I didn’t eat anything with nuts, and because most of the time we shared a meal. She’d tell the server ever so nicely, ‘my brother can’t eat tree nuts, so please don’t kill him, thanks.’ Once the meal was safe to eat, she loved to see what shenanigans we could get away with, it was her mischievous playful side. She was such a picky eater back then, and would be horrified to see the eyeballs of a lobster staring back at us from the plate, or the way a mound of Jell-O cubes just didn’t sit right. Such enthralling chatter. As we got older it was arguing over which of us a cute server was flirting with.
One of the happiest moments of Elaina’s life was when she gave her middle school graduation speech as class president. Then we were back in the same school. High School was spent at drama club rehearsals, club meetings, and what seemed to be endless sweet sixteens, proms, and parties for us. With our friend as dates or guests Elaina and I attended seven of the same proms, the first was my senior prom, the last was her junior prom. And then I turned 21 and that was that. We had so much fun driving all over in my car, except for when she’d tell me to avoid bumps so she could finish putting on her makeup. When we were at venues with multiple ballrooms for an event, Elaina would be off seeing what was going on in the other rooms…the ultimate wedding crasher, in the middle of the dancefloor. Before we left, mom would say to me, watch out for your sister, and I thought oh crap I lost her again. She made even the smallest moments so special. There was always an occasion. Everything I did she wanted to do too, and she did most things better than me; except she couldn’t be ambidextrous, have naturally curly hair, or set a proper table. But all-in-all I’d say she surpassed me in many ways. What amazes me is how we thought so much alike, which is evident in our writing and especially in our poetry.
As teens I remember my sisters and me tanning on the trampoline with our big radio and not a care in the world. Bike rides all over our neighborhood and at the shore, roller blading, sledding each winter. Elaina would share my sled when she was little, I was way too nervous that she’d fall off. Sitting on the roof outside my bedroom window; making up dances to songs; Elaina filming music videos with sadly only me as the star; figuring out how to get Cristina or Elaina out of trouble for sneaking out. The girls ending up in my room during some sort of squabble; battling their endless long hair in the shower drain; fighting over using the house phone; getting ready for school every morning when they always hogged the bathroom. It was rather tempestuous at times, but there was so much love. It was always the girls and me, that’s how I liked it. We spent a lot of time as a family, with our two adorable dogs. Our family, us five. Sitting down every night to dinners that mom made, and Sunday and Wednesday dinners with RoRo and PopPop, summers with Gram and PaPa. The golden years of big family holidays and occasions, which Elaina often drifted back to in the end. The last messages she sent me indicated that her mind went to this happy place more often than we thought.
Elaina was a fabulous actress in middle school and high school. That radiant smile. We had such fun doing plays together and I loved to see her on stage after I graduated. She needed to sparkle and shine, that one. She also enjoyed doing the sound board and lighting. She said of these years, that acting “seemed like a natural choice because I have always believed that the stage represents an inspirational world in which anything is possible.” She thoroughly enjoyed being a part of the advanced drama workshop creative ensemble, where she showcased her talent for playwriting and directing.
Elaina was very much a Capricorn. Her favorite color was green. She was an avid bowler, chess player, and pool player. When my parents took us skiing, Cristina and I were arm and arm down the bunny hill, and fearless Elaina went right for the bigger slope. She was a leader, an optimist, and a dreamer. She loved classic rock, all kinds of Latin music, and anything we could dance to. She despised social niceties and disingenuous people, which of course made her stand out, but she felt it was important to connect with people based on what was far beneath the surface.
She had her own concept of time. She was an hour late to her own sweet 16, and almost missed the game tables that my parents had brought up from Atlantic City. I used to tell her that she took 10 years off my life by making me late to school every day, to rehearsals, our ballroom dancing lessons, parties, everything really. When leaving the house, it became a commonality in our family to just ask, where’s Elaina? The irony of course is that I’d give those 10 years to her in an instant if I could. She had nicknames for most people—a form of your name she liked best. She delighted in talking to anyone she met, and was so eloquent. When I was too shy to dance at parties, she’d come grab my hand and take me to the dancefloor and say, “it’s all in the hips, kid.” I always felt too tall and gangly, where she could just disappear into the crowd. We had countless game nights, move nights, and chats until dawn with our amazing groups of friends.
Her passion for wanting to make the world a better place was fostered in the Law and Public Service Learning Center in Colts Neck High School. She ran track and had leadership roles in the national honor society, student council, students for a progressively peaceful America, just to name a few. She also did a great amount of charity work and humanitarian efforts to help the Latino community.
She continued this course at Seton Hall University with a double major in Diplomacy and Foreign Relations, and Latino Studies, plus a minor in Spanish. Right before graduating from the Whitehead School, she reflected on her experiences, and said “we now hope to see beyond our individual needs, and help move our generation forward, ultimately contributing to a stronger, more united and peaceful global community.” In College, Elaina thrived as a student ambassador and as a member of the student leadership council. One of her internships was with MADRE: a nonprofit organization dedicated to helping women in conflict across the world through diplomacy. She had a blog during this time to reflect on her experiences. I loved going to her events at Seton Hall and seeing her efforts in the name of international relations. She gained so much insight and knowledge on ethno-political landscapes, and international human rights.
Elaina’s zest for seeing the world started with studying abroad in college. She spent four semesters away, as she wanted a diverse and unique undergraduate experience. She attended the University of Belgrano in Buenos Aires in 2010, and at the University Del Pacifico in Lima in 2011. These were perhaps her happiest times, traveling all over, doing volunteer work, and meeting the most fabulous people. Each time I helped her pack, she’d say, “you’re fitting in my suitcase, girlie.” And every time we had a bon voyage party for her, and then a welcome home party. I loved her embrace when we’d meet at the airport, as if she hadn’t seen me in decades. That magnificent hug. Billy and Rosie used to love making an appearance at these parties before bedtime. After weeks of rehearsal, Ro surprised everyone by singing ‘Don’t Cry for Me Argentina’, before Elaina left for Buenos Aires. She graduated as a member of The National Society of Collegiate Scholars, with Sigma Delta Pi Honors.
Elaina was brilliant: when we lived together for her last year of college and my last year of grad school, she could write a term paper in one night and get an A on it, with feedback saying ‘grad level work’, meanwhile I was on my 9th draft after two weeks of writing. She was never really good at hosting a party…she counted on me for that. As we all sat around the table, her subtle hint for telling me I talked too much was, “always keepem’ wantin more, girlie.” Whoever came to visit our apartment got to participate in the fun and games, when she’d make you run around to all the connecting rooms in a conga line, rotate seats at dinner after each course, or she’d pop out of closets when all was quiet, wearing something ridiculous from my wardrobe, and other such nonsense. She had the advantage of being able to fit pretty much anywhere, and she loved that I scared so easily. During this time we made dishes that she learned from her travels, things I’d never eaten before. If I cooked she washed up, and vice versa. She loved cooking and became very skilled at using one pot or pan to make an entire meal, and was rather annoyed when I used four or five. She’d say, “Bubsie, people outside of America work with and use much less, and they do just fine.”
Along with writing her undergrad thesis, Elaina also obtained a TEFL certification. After graduation in 2013, she went to teach English at the Isaac Newton Institute in Madrid. Her students adored her, we loved finding the cards and letters they wrote to her. Here she met her husband Rolf at a dinner party for a mutual friend and they had many great travels together all over the world. At this time Elaina was awarded a Fulbright Scholarship: one of 850 people out of 7.2 billion from around the world. She went to conduct research in her field, and to teach in Columbia at great risk to her safety. Luckily, Rolf was with her for this journey and made sure she got out safely. It was in Columbia that Elaina further pursued the social and literary genre of Magical Realism, with her studies of human rights violations, and social injustices. I’ve never met another person so driven, or anyone who was truly brave like her.
She was an explorer, an adventurer, and a scholar. Having left her unforgettable mark on South and Central America, Elaina went back to Europe. She and Rolf rode camels in Morocco and Elephants in Thailand where they had their honeymoon. Upon her marriage she was technically styled as a German Baroness. Rolf was Elaina’s rock…a title that only I previously held. He was her steady, her most delightful comrade, her Twinflame. They had such a unique relationship and spent so much time together just the two of them, as they traveled here and there visiting friends and family, and living in various places. Rolf was an incredible support system for Elaina, and my family will be forever grateful to him.
While they lived on the border of Austria and Germany, she learned German in about a month and passed the citizenship test with flying colors. She spoke four Languages. Elaina and Rolf did a double master’s program together, half in Konstanz, Germany and half in Barcelona, Spain. She fell in love with the vibrant Barcelona.
Elaina lived in Argentina, Bavaria, Germany, Columbia, Spain and Peru. She toured around parts of Italy, Turkey, England, Vietnam, Canada, Morocco, Bolivia, France, Mexico, Brazil, Cambodia, The Check Republic, Paraguay, Ireland, Uruguay, Bolivia, Chile, Switzerland, Belgium, Portugal, and Austria. She went to Patagonia, known as the End of the world, then took a ship ride to see the shores of Antarctica and the melting glaciers. She zip lined through the Amazon Rainforest, and climbed the Andes Mountains. She loved anything Bohemian, and collected the most fascinating artifacts from her adventures. I loved her calls from all over when she’d say, “guess where I am, girlie?”
In her extensive travels, she saw every continent except for Australia, though she would have loved the landscape there. She embraced all cultures and customs and was intrigued by how other people lived outside of America. In her last message to me a week before she died, she reminded me that she went to England in my honor, knowing that I’m terrified to travel across the sea. She wasn’t afraid of anything, except for being alone. She wanted me to travel the world with her, but she knew I wouldn’t go. I was perfectly happy right here. I always told her, be my wings and fly away, I’ll be waiting here when you come home. And how my parents and I loved hearing her stories and seeing her photos, and reading the long messages she sent from the most remote and enchanted places. When Billy and Ro were little, I used to show them on the map and say this is where Aunt Lainie is. They were in awe of her and the exotic places she went. She enjoyed spending time with Tommy and Annie as well during her last visit with the family in 2018.
My sister and I have the same laugh. The energy she brought to a room was unparalleled, and I adored her for it. She was dazzling, thrilling, and took up so much space for one with such a small stature. Soulmates come in many forms, and she was one of mine. She was such a gift, but it was a tease, for she was taken too soon. Perhaps that's the price you pay for loving someone too much. How fickle the universe can be.
Out of the many traits my sister and I shared, one was never losing our childlike sense of joy, curiosity, and wonder, for the smallest of things. I promise to do this for her for the rest of my life, and to carry out her fascination for cultures around the world.
At the beach, Elaina found her center. Our forever love is of the beach. There’s hardly anything that can’t be sorted out while hearing the crashing waves. This was her solace in the end. Out of all the beaches that she saw around the world, her favorite was in Barcelona. A piece of my soul died in Barcelona. One day, I’ll make the trip there and sit on her favorite beach, and feel a connection to her.
I’ve never known anyone quite so phenomenal. And I’ll never love anyone in quite the same way, ever again. She electrified my life. She was a blessing, and I thank God for the years we had her. She was the only person living who could read me better than I can read myself, and the only person who thought that I had a sweet voice. We didn’t even have to speak, mostly because we had a telepathic vibe from childhood. It’s truly remarkable how she just knew. I could spend years talking about our countless inside jokes, nicknames, and memories that died with her. These I will hope to hear in my mind, and cherish for years to come.
The loss that my parents have had, the unbelievable loss for our family. Out of everyone I’ve loved and lost, both old and too young, this is the hardest cross to bear. The void can never be filled. For the first time in 30 years, I’m no longer in the middle of two sisters. I imagine I’ll never quite be the same, until I can hear her sweet voice again. That voice that’s imprinted in my memory and in my soul. She was called for a greater purpose, to the next world, and that is marvelous in our eyes. I pray that she watches over and guides us.
My sister discovered her spirituality and mysticism, and became even more philosophical in the last few years to try and find a sense of inner peace. She went holistic and did yoga, meditation, and self-reflection. She became a minimalist and shed unnecessary material goods in order to know her true self. She discovered a big part of the reason why she preferred to live abroad: In America, we’re asked, what do you do? This means how do you earn a living. Elaina was far more interested in beyond the generic, soul-sucking question of what we do, and rather wanted to know, who are we as people? She started a talk show to have people discuss their greatest passions in order to promote self-discovery, as she found that so many people cannot answer simple questions about what they love. So much of her writing and projects had to do with the importance of self-care and self-love. She encouraged others to think about their driving forces for creativity and self-expression. She also found catharsis in her poetry club. No matter where she went, she found people who she connected with. She always liked my poetry, but she was much more of a skilled writer and poet, everything came to naturally to her. And she was so in touch with her feelings when it came to her written work from a very young age. I’ll miss her wisdom, advice, depth of feeling, being truly understood by her, and her exceptional view of the world. Cristina and I won’t have her in our twilight years, but we’ll have each other.
They called Elaina mentally ill, but in reality, she was just too extraordinary for this world. Her mind was too unique and complex, for a world with labels and boxes. She couldn’t explain where her mind took her. After a lifetime of remembering so many of life’s small details, her mind grew tired and she was pulled to another place. She’s finally free of the demons.
I should have known that someone so bright would come to embody a Neutron Star collision. We were lucky in that we had enough enjoyment for three lifetimes. Precious memories. I’ll remember her infectious laugh, her handwriting, holding her hand, the smile that only she could bring out in me, how she beamed while being spun around the dancefloor. The only thing we can say is that Elaina is at peace, with herself, and is in the place of light where there is no pain. I’ll see you there in many years, kid. This time, those wings took you to a place where you won’t come back. Just always remember, “there’s no one in the universe as magical and wondrous as you.” A few days before she died, she sent me such amazing messages, one of which said: “I think about you all the time and I miss you mucho. Remember our favorite line from the ‘Wizard of Oz,’ when our Dorothy cried to our favorite scarecrow? I think I’ll miss you most of all.” How telling this is now.
My beloved sister, to say we’ll miss you wouldn’t do it justice. Now you truly are Divine. What would you look like if you grew to be old? What would you sound like? Come visit me in my dreams until we meet again, I hope you recognize me. Goodbye my most darling girl. Maybe I’ll look this young when I can see your face again, one fine day.
A Dedication Piece:
Don't be afraid, I'm always here,
I'll look for a sign of when you'll appear.
I couldn't protect you in the end,
But you'll always be my very best friend.
I wish I could hold your hand,
To give you such a big hug.
The way we always did,
Two bugs in a rug.
You left me for a better place,
You're in the city of light.
You're eternal across time and space,
But please don't be out of sight.
I'll say goodbye only for now,
Dear sister of mine.
I'll go on for years without you, but how?
I'll be your big brother until the end of time.
A Dedication Piece:
Six
Six stories up from where you looked down, time was irrelevant.
Six seconds it took to fall: you had to fall to become an eternal light.
Six moments at least, I think of you each day: I’m starting to laugh at our silliness.
Six hours behind in time from where you met your end: I woke up from a dream of falling.
Six days until your birthday: thirty-one in this realm.
Six months since you’ve crossed over: a fraction of time, the waiting goes on.
Six decades too soon for you to go away: how I wish you’d come back.
Six lifetimes I’d give to have you living in this one with me: goodbye, my darling.
For Stephanie Hallowell
A Dedication Piece:
We shine on, through your grace;
Your heart, boundless, is in every place.
You needed more light, so I give you the sun;
With that smile, brighter than everyone’s.
I give you the light, the strength, the clarity;
Comfort, hope, fullness and gravity.
I need you to shine again;
You come to me in dreams every now and then.
You sail through my daydreams and visions—through time and space;
For who could ever forget such an enchanting face.
Smile for us again, laugh, sing, cry, feel…love;
We can only imagine what you can do from above.
I still feel your hugs, tight as can be;
Your laughter is ubiquitous, the wind in the trees.
We’re laughing again, driving into the night;
All the countless hours, glorious, no matter the plight.
Hold my hand and walk with me;
See all the beauty in all we can be.
Forget the pain, the anguish and the sorrow;
Come back to me for one day—any tomorrow.
Make the tragic seem silly, make reality fade away;
Be the music we love, be the pun of the day.
Tell us a story that makes no sense, for no reason;
Bring us the moon and stars throughout the seasons.
Tell us why;
Try not to cry;
Let out the pain inside;
Please don’t say goodbye.
You’re forever ephemeral, flying in the sky;
Be the love of home, the ride or die.
You’re the flowers of spring, the scent of joy;
The brazen, the bold, the shy and the coy.
Don’t feel alone, you’re never alone;
The brightest star, you’ll never grow old.
Keep us young, unattached and free;
Remember to show us how wondrous life can be.
You’re the thorn bird who becomes a martyr for a single song;
You’re the root of the journey to where we belong.
It seems impossible to think you’re not here;
Life is far less colorful without you, my dear.
Watch over us now, use your power and will;
For you have so much life inside you still.
I imagine you reborn—fanciful and wild;
For you have the glimmer of hope that we see in a child.
Our last image of you was a lie, so cold and true;
It wasn’t, it couldn’t be you.
We remember you as you were from the start;
Too much for this world, with too much heart.
Never stop shining, please don’t fade away;
For we will all be together again, one very fine day.
Let us live on;
You’re all but gone;
Our light, our unforgettable song;
We’ve always loved you, all along.
For OLGA
A Eulogy:
Olga, affectionately known as Auntie, was raised in the port city of Murmansk, Russia. In this fanciful world, she saw the Aurora Borealis, puffins, reindeer, and other such marvels unknown to us. Olga studied classical ballet from a young age at a boarding school. She then spent a year or so in Sicily, and was practically betrothed to a young man who was to inherit a vast vineyard estate. On to America she went, briefly as a southern belle, and then to Philadelphia to study dance and kinesiology at the University of the Arts. Olga was gifted; completely marvelous. Dancing all throughout college, she even had a semester of Flamenco studies in Spain, and then went on to two professional ballet companies.
There was hardly an issue that Auntie couldn't solve. She was always helping people navigate through life. At 25, Olga had lived more life than most people four times her age. So very wise. And a true Gemini, through and through.
I have Olga to thank for helping me explore my spiritual and mystical abilities. As each full moon approached, I'd hear her bellowing out Swedish chants on the roof, and I knew it was time. Olga’s faith was remarkable. She loved going to mass at her favorite Russian Orthodox church, especially for the holidays. She was an egalitarian snob; one of the most cultured and sophisticated people I've had the pleasure to know. She spoke four languages, and visited multiple countries. She was an avid listener of world news, and always kept informed.
She had no fear in the world. Except for people who eat raw celery. That fearlessness counteracted me and others in so many ways. She made many of us push through our fears. Olga's favorite color was ultramarine, her favorite flower was poppies. She was brilliant at baking, doing makeup, and loved to crochet and sing scores from musicals. A true gypsy at heart, with flowy drapey attire and always a headscarf.
I'll miss our witty banter, and arguments about politics and social issues. She challenged my moderate but narrow view of the world, in a way I could understand it. I'm forever grateful for that.
Olga hardly ever knew the month, or even the day of the week. She said she'd get married on Groundhog Day, so as not to forget her anniversary and to have a true winter wedding. Because Olga could hardly remember anyone’s names, she often used nicknames: Lena is Hot Pants, Scott is Twink-teacher, Ashley is Grace, Brandon is the Archduke, Kevin is the Color Haired Boy, and so on.
Olga loved to cook: life in the kitchen was always turbulent as one single meal could take over a day to prepare, and of course I was the one to clean up after. She'd come home randomly with strange items that she foraged along the way and claim them to be food. Whenever I cooked dinner she’d stand over my shoulder and judge along the way. After tasting a meal that didn’t take hours and hours to prepare, she’d say, “call this food?”
Olga was my protector, my right hand, and harshest critic. When I think of all the effort it took to even get me to leave the house for the events we attended. And how little of a filter she had in public compared to me. Even in the silent moment of the ending of Swan Lake we saw at a ballet charity event, she blurted out the most inappropriate critique in front of 500 people. As much of a private person as I try to be, I couldn't hide from Olga. She would half listen to whatever the issue of the day was, and then when I'd ask if she was listening, she'd usually come out with an obscure question like, "do you think Hitler tied his shoes in knotsies?"
I still don't believe you're gone. I feel your presence constantly. Perhaps it's the childlike sensibility I have when it comes to facing the truth. You'd say it's bloody stupid not to look death in the face and deal with it directly. You'd say how foolish I am, and that no one is going to fix this one. No one can make it better and bring you back. You'd say no tears, stop being a silly little fool. Life has to go on and we have to face it. We won't have the decades together like we planned. If I call you, no one will answer. No more putting on our makeup and lovely accessories and jewelry to go out to events and shows, and dance the night away. No more bickering about sharing shoes and purses. No more talks until dawn. No more sitting down to tea, with vodka.
That phone call on New Year's Eve changed my life indefinitely. I saw you in a coffin on January 4th, but the truth still eludes me. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to move on. Part of me is glad that you’re not here to see so much of our beautiful world fading away, piece by piece. But you’ll be happy to know that I’m doing a full year of court mourning: in black. I left a big piece of my heart in North Carolina. Luckily, I have a fanciful mind and can replace that horrific image with us waltzing in the ballroom in Virginia two weeks before. With your perfect posture wearing this skirt and my Zara Tindall pumps. I’m just so grateful that we had that final week together.
I assume you’ve found the starman, waiting in the sky. Dancing on forward to the sun, your new chapter has just begun. As you dance along, always remember, vous le vous dancer avec mua?
"Vous êtes jamais seuls. Vous savez ce qu'il faut faire. Ne laissez pas tomber votre nation. La disco a besoin de vous"
Out of all the people, everywhere, in my life who’ve come and gone, I’m quite sure It’s you I’ll miss the most. Olga truly was the most delightful comrade, and the most divine waltz partner. I'll think of you often, until we meet again, my darling. Olga was the epitome of stoicism and grace. Tight-laced into a corset, with cheekbones for days, and kaleidoscope eyes. Few people have such a presence or leave such an impression.
For ROSEMARIE Geradri
A Dedication Piece:
There are several things that I hope I do for many years to come, small things that I got from my grandma RoRo. One of them is that when you hear a word, you think of a song that has that word in it, and then sing the song. We did that for years, mommy, RoRo and me.
One of the best qualities about grandma RoRo was her childlike sensibility. Always so silly and fun, which I’m glad I got as well. The occasions that were made lighthearted because of her outlook on life, and remembering the simple joys.
We called ourselves the trio, and we spent countless hours together over the years, shopping, cooking, baking, laughing, singing preposterous songs. I loved our random outings hither and thither, and how RoRo would wander off in places like the mall to satisfy her never-ending curiosity. With her little purse and headscarf, off she went. I love her curiosity, and wanting to know as much as she can about things. Another thing I can thank her for.
When she was tasked with stalling for time when the girls and I were little, RoRo would have us all stand side by side and hold hands, then she’d hum out this silly tune and we’d all walk three steps up, and four steps back, hardly getting anywhere. One year we were getting ready for a birthday party, and mommy left to go to the store: RoRo was blowing up the balloons with us, and then showed us that if you rub a balloon against your hair, it will then stick to the wall. Mommy came home to dozens of balloons against the wall, and us laughing with RoRo.
RoRo was at many of my birthday parties, holiday parties, dinner parties. I loved having her live at mommy’s house all those years. She loved chatting with my friends and getting to know everyone. She loved having an occasion to go to, even if it was at home. We enjoyed setting the table together, and decorating for parties. She attended every school play, concert, graduation, and special occasion.
She loved that I was an English major, and often read my books when I was finished reading them, getting through the obstacle of countless post its, margin notes and highlights. We would watch so many Turner Classic movies and talk about old Hollywood actors and films. Her favorite color was powder blue, which she told me about after I asked her what color her bridesmaids dresses were. She said she never saw her wedding photographs as black and white, and thought it was remarkable to remember small details like that, and share them with someone who wasn’t there to see all the colors that day.
She said one of her ambitions was to go to the Four Corners. She was fascinated by the fact that four states met in one place. She hardly traveled, but loved to know about different places around the world, mostly for how people dressed and how they spoke. Randomly she’d say something like, “we should sit on the floor and eat like they do in Japan.” On this day or that, she’d greet you with a bow, or a head nod. She also had secret handshakes with different people, and secret passwords for inside jokes, or random things to say following a catchphrase. In the family, we all had a nickname, some hybrid of Italian and English that she made up. She also made up words for everyday things in the same style. You really had to speak RoRo. If you passed by a home you once lived in, she’d say, “bow your head”, just things like that were so wonderful.
She adored collecting small items, things like creamer pitchers for coffee, items that just looked cute when smaller. Some even made it into her purse when we were out and about eating lunch over the years. She’d say, “only during lunch.” She was so fun to have in the car, reading all sorts of signs and playing games to pass the time. Growing up we always played games, she taught us Mahjong and many card games, though I found out later that she made up her own rules. We walked all over in Brooklyn, and she took us to Coney Island. For years, she would find pictures of a Westie, our favorite dog, and put them with my birthday cards, and she always said when I get one, I should name him Fala like President Roosevelt. The cards would read, ‘”Love, RoRo and Fala.”
I loved going into her apartment at mommy’s house, and just sitting with her and chatting each day. She’d tell me about the time in her life before she got married, and how much fun she had going to dances and shopping for a new dress or hat. She was so very beautiful. She really liked talking about history, and would always tell me when she saw something about the English royals in the news. She said she’d love to get lost in Scotland with me, in the hills of green.
She loved to wander around the house and see what everyone was up to. You’d hear a high-pitched, “yoo-hoo!” when she’d call. She always called me her buddy. She’d say, “buddy ol’ pal,” and we’d be doing this or that, like sewing or decorating the Christmas trees each year. She was the perfect person to do that with, she’d hand me the ornaments as I was up on a ladder. She helped me to sew my ridiculous costumes each year for Halloween or a themed party. She loved how over the top I was with fashion.
Going on the journey with her caused by her dementia was absolutely extraordinary. We went back decades together, to a time when she was young and so full of hope, when there was no pain, and she was getting ready for a dance or a party. What a life-altering experience that was. I’m just glad I got to bring her some joy in the end. There’s no more pain now. A few months shy of 90, she lived a long and rather full life.
We had a lot of good years together, and I’m thankful for the relationship we shared. For our bond. For all the laughter. We laughed so much, even in the end. The last thing I heard her say when she said goodbye to my niece, also RoseMarie, her great-granddaughter, was, “It’s amazing how the older you get, the more love you have.” I hope I always remember the sound of her voice.
I hope you’re up there dancing to ‘Strangers in the Night,’ kiddo. I’ll miss her very much, and think of her often. We’ll keep her memory alive with the kids, especially Billy and Ro and keep being our silly selves.
I love you, RoRo, thank you for being so exceptionally you.
For adrienne Montagnino
A Eulogy:
Adrienne Negro-Montagnino was born on June 9th, 1926, in Manhattan. She detested nicknames, but was affectionately known as Dolly her entire life. Her favorite color was blue, inspired by her love of the sea. Her favorite Saint was Ignatius mostly because she was fascinated by his name; and also, Rachel, the Patron Saint of the Unborn, because a very patriarchal church considered women in grief. She had such fascinating interpretations of many biblical aspects and chose to believe in the ones she liked the most, or the ones that could be seen as beautiful.
As a child I revered her and was truly fascinated by her. She held such power and influence over others and had the respect of so many.
Adrienne was very progressive for her time and thought she would never get married or have children. She wanted a career, she wanted to be a surgeon. Societal norms and familial pressure prevailed, and she agreed to marry Peter in 1945, who had asked her repeatedly over the course of a year. She then agreed to have her first child because her mother-in-law was dying of cancer in 1950. Admittedly, she much more enjoyed being a grandmother, and was warm and loving to her grandchildren. I’m happy for the years we had together and how much joy your grandchildren gave you.
She was very skilled at sewing and knitting, and made everything down to the tablecloths and napkins she used at her fabulous dinner parties. She had a soft spot for me which is why I got to learn so much—the art of setting the perfect table (measuring each setting, of course), how not to insult someone when you want to change a topic of conversation, how one should never be seen without lipstick, how to throw an unforgettable party. It’s all in the details. She was a brilliant cook and baker and was rather strict with following the rules of any recipe or process. She enjoyed oil painting and had a particular fondness for still-life.
While surrounded by plants and flowers she felt mostly herself; she loved to garden. She finally had her dream garden after moving from New York to Florida in 1972. Her favorite flower was a Tigerlily. I planted five large pots of flowers in my city garden just the other day, like we used to do, and I dedicated the garden to you. When all is quiet I can still hear the sound of your voice, especially your laugh, obnoxious like mine, and I see your radiant smile. Small bits of memories I’ll keep as they float in and out over time—our evening walks to the lilypond after supper; all the books we read; when you told me you saw Brokeback Mountain and how moving it was for you; how God created me in the way he envisioned me—that I was born the way I am and nothing can be more true and beautiful than that. God knew how wonderful and special I am, and how you were lucky to have me.
Adrienne was a fashionista and was always dressed for the occasion. She dazzled a room with her ballroom talents. She always made me feel so special and gave me the confidence I needed. When I was too shy to dance at parties, she told me how only the best people dance in this world. Once I came out of my shell, I danced at every party. When I said I was a slow reader, she sat with me and listened to me get through my summer reading—she said I wasn’t slow, I just took the time to appreciate the finer details that most people don’t.
Though she stood at just under five-feet tall (not that she was ever seen in anything less than a four-inch heel, even to mow her lawn) she was a giant among men; fiercely independent, very domineering, and rather stubborn. She was known to rearrange the cabinets and drawers as a house guest. Her favorite cocktail was a rum and coke, and she enjoyed being a woman who didn’t sip on a dainty drink, surrounded by the company of men steering the conversation as she pleased.
Golf, bingo, and bocci ball were her other favorite pastimes, all of which I used to love playing with her. Later in life she taught the children of migrant workers how to read and write in English, and provided counsel and life skills to single mothers and victims of domestic violence. She always spoke up for those who were afraid to have a voice. She was an avid reader and loved to learn something new every day; this I thank her for passing on.
Thank you for being so incredible, and leaving me with such wonderful memories, like when you chased me around the house for hugs and kisses when I was little. And how happy I was when you caught me.
Timeless, elegant, and always proper—a truly great lady. Thank you for loving me.
For NICHOLAS Gerardi
One third of a three-part eulogy:
Nature’s first green is gold; Her harvest hue to hold; Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour; Then leaf subsides to leaf; So Eden sank to grief; Then dawn goes down to day; Nothing gold can stay.
My favorite poem by Robert Frost explains the suffering that we feel after the death of our PopPop. The cycle of life as it goes must ultimately end with a loss. We will miss having you in the house and seeing you every day. We are grateful to have learned your family values and appreciate and admire you for your generous ways. You were just a door away, and how you’re a world away, but you’ll always be close to our hearts.
We have so many wonderful memories over the years, watching old movies and the Mets, you teaching us how to play poker, listening to Sinatra, sitting on the terrace on Cropsey Avenue looking out for your car when you came home from work. Cristina recalls all these memories and has enjoyed giving you such happiness in sharing in her children, who love you so much. Elaina is especially grateful for living with you these past few years. She loved hearing your stories from when you were in the navy during WWII. It was so remarkable to see the photos from your time in Japan, and on the USS Perkins. How brave you were to enlist at only 17. We loved sitting down to coffee and dessert and hearing stories about your Doo Wop group, and how you supported your mother from a young age.
I loved that we are both Scorpios and celebrated our birthdays together. I loved how you said my name; how you made such an entrance into a room; how much people adored you for being so kind.
And what we will all miss hearing from you, PopPop, was your concern for everyone else beside yourself. Making sure we all got home safely. I can see your smile and expression peering over your glasses as you waved goodbye from the doorway each time we left the house.
Resti con gli angeli, noi manciamo e tiamo tu sempre.