Day 1 and
Day 2 of 12
I have
neither a partridge in pear tree nor two turtle doves. And I would not consider either to be a
fabulous gift. In case you had any ideas.
But it is
symbolic of the "counting down" toward Christmas..
If you have
been tracking with me for any time, you know two things. I am motivated by a
set number of days or projects. October - 31 Days to Being a Real Writer.
November - 30 Days of Gratitude. 12 Days of Christmas. I don't always fulfill
each day, but I like the concept.
The other
thing you know is that I have been absent for a time. There have been many
factors. The biggest one is that sometimes my gift is shut down by difficulties.
Sometimes, the
frustration that comes from a 3 year unresolved challenge has been responsible.
And other
times life is just painful beyond words.
Let me tell
you about one of the best men who ever lived...
Giambattista Andreassi and his family moved
from Italy to Brady's Bend, PA when he
was eighteen months old. He lived the rest of his life in a ten mile radius of his
first home. He married Joanne, a woman from the same town.
People
called him Tittino or JB or Greaser or Papa or Dad. I called him Uncle John. He
called me Bessanne.
Every person
who crossed paths with John Andreassi is better for it. I never heard him say a bad word about
anyone. Never. Truly.
And it would
shock me to find anyone who had a negative word about him.
In 1951,
John and Joanne bought a tiny house and three oil wells. They added on to the house, raised seven kids there.
They bought more oil wells. John worked a second job. Joanne was a substitute
rural mail carrier.
They were
never featured in a national magazine or on a reality show.
Not
glamorous by any standards.
He loved
this country and was fond of saying that in the United States a person could be
whatever he or she wanted to be - all it took was hard work. He certainly knew
about that.
In time, the
oil company grew to the point of being able to sustain his family. But that
meant being willing to answer calls and make repairs at all hours and on any
day. No customer went without gas because he was tired or it was a holiday. Not
even the year he was called out on Christmas and his kids sat and waited for
his return before opening gifts.
He was a
devout Catholic. Many times, in the face of tragedy or heartbreak, I heard him
say, "Whatever the Lord wants - that's how my life will be...whatever the
Lord wants." And he lived those words.
Still, if
you ask me the first thing that comes into my head about Uncle John, it is
this: He loved his family so much. You might say, "Of course he loved his
kids- what good man doesn't?" And he did love his kids, and their spouses,
and his grandkids.
But it was
the depth to which he adored Joanne-ee (his name for her) that sticks in my
mind.
My Aunt
Joanne was a wonderful lady. I spent at least one week every summer at the
Andreassi home, and she treated me like one of her own. I loved her dearly.
She had an
abundance of gifts and graces. Being easy wasn't one of them.
But John
thought she was the best ever. For him, there was no one like Joanne-ee. It was evident to all who knew him.
Five years
ago, after she passed very suddenly, I stood beside her casket with my arm
through his, and he said, "Look at her, Bessanne - isn't she
beautiful!" Others have told me he said the same to them on different occasions.
Her passing
hit him hard, took a bite out of his spirit. But he never complained, never
bemoaned his fate, never cursed fate.
He went on
living.
He had a family
he loved.
His
integrity and kind spirit had fostered a great and wide circle of friends and
business acquaintances. He had obligations at the Sons of Italy club in Brady's
Bend.
He went on
living.
Last summer
his garden had 103 tomato plants. He had learned to make homemade pasta noodles
and sauce - that had always been Joanne-ee's job. When he entered the hospital
in late October, there was one batch of sauce left to make.
Instead, on
November 26, he went to be with Joanne-ee, with his parents and brother.
He left a
giant hole.
It has been
hard to write. Impossible.
I knew this
had to be the first blog I wrote, but the words were hidden under grief and
tears. Not just mine, but the grief I see on the faces of my beloved cousins,
the sadness I hear in their voices.
But we are
counting down to Christmas...and he would want us to go on living.
We know he
is where he wants to be. With Joanne-ee. With the others he has missed so much.
With the Savior whose birth we celebrate.
Our hearts
are torn open...but he would remind us that our lives are in the Lord's hands.
And he would
urge us to go on living.
Ten days
left in the countdown.
Finally I am
able to write again.
Thanks, Uncle
John. Give Aunt Joanne a kiss for me.
We'll see
you both later.
Time to go
on living.
Day 3 brings
French hens - no idea what to do with them!
We will talk
tomorrow...
BP
