Uncle Jerry has been looking forward to this day for a long time.
He was always talking about the cut-off date. But, he also had a lot of other famous expressions. I want this tribute to be different from his obituary so he doesn’t call me out on a repeat.
Another one of his common expressions was "I don't want a high mass!" He'd shout it about the most simple of plans:
Making dinner arrangements at a restaurant
Or, the menu for Sunday dinner
Or, going to a Red Sox game.
I'm still not really sure what a High Mass is but, I feel like he deserved one for this occasion. He didn't want a high mass or, to over complicate anything but, he loved a party which was obvious as he was always the first one to arrive. Sometimes we’d see him and Gram sitting in his car outside of the house waiting until it was time to come in.
He was not a regular at church. He had his share of reasons. Like a lot of his arguments, he'd blame the liberals. “LIBERAL THEOLOGY!" he'd rant. And, he'd always wrap it up by proclaiming, "I follow the Ten Commandments!". This makes sense. Uncle Jerry was a list-maker and kept things in his own very specific order. "I'm getting meticulous in my old age", he once told me. He was a creature of habit. His version of the Ten Commandments carried over to his way of living every day life.
Whether it was stealing the high quality paper towels from his gym.
Where and how we stacked the chairs in the patio after Sunday dinner - certain chairs went into the closet and others stayed on the patio. Only he knew…
His Dewars on the rocks had to have splash of water.
And of course he insisted on a half cup of black coffee after Sunday dinner.
Towards the end he wasn't really drinking either but, he liked to have the scotch and coffee close by. He liked having people close by too. “See you next Sunday?” He'd say after dinner every week. He was asking but, he was really telling you to be there.
When Uncle Jerry died, I received a lot of sympathy cards, more than I ever would've expected. A lot of my friends and co-workers had met Uncle Jerry, read some of his emails or heard some stories. These cards reminded me of how unusual it is to have an Uncle Jerry. Not many people get to know their Grandmother’s brother so well. Turns out, it is unique set-up to have a Great Uncle live next door to your Grandmother and visit every Sunday. I think people were intrigued by the whole arrangement. But, to us, it was a logical layout. For my cousins and me and it was historically drinks and appetizers - always nuts - at Uncle Jerry's. The game or golf was on the TV in his living room. Then we’d go next door to Gram's for dinner, coffee & dessert. When the weather was good, we were outside.
One thing I noticed in the sympathy cards cards and comments on the obituary, people wrote "sorry for the loss of Uncle Jerry". They didn't write sorry for the loss of “YOUR” Uncle Jerry. Even Uncle Jerry referred to himself as Uncle Jerry!
He was the only Uncle Jerry and he was ours. And we got it all.
We all have our memories. Stories that cover the full range. From caring to crazy. From generous to hilarious. I don't think we'd have it any other way.
Shrimp cocktail on Christmas Eve, antipasto plates on Easter. He was the leader - and he was the fastest - of the after dinner walk on Thanksgiving. He was in charge of Sunday's cocktail hour. The first thing he'd say when you walked into his kitchen "make yourself a drink!”.
We all know he loved family parties, sports, reading, music and restaurants. He also loved to debate and loved to be right. Pick a topic. It was usually politics and sports. But it was also driving and directions. Driving with Uncle Jerry was quite a ride. There was a tape deck with loud show-tunes, quick and crazy lane changes. Lots of swearing and also encouraging words of self affirmation. "Good job Jerry baby!" he'd say after making a turn. If he ever let you drive him anywhere - he would be standing in his driveway waiting for you when you got to his house, tell you the way to go and then continue to scream directions at you throughout the trip.
You might know this story but, it covers the characteristics of the Uncle we all knew. I had asked Uncle Jerry for a ride from my condo in Watertown to the Museum of Science where I was working. I lost my keys and my car was in the Museum's garage. He was always telling me the best way to drive there. It was a similar commute that he had from Murphy Court to his drug store in East Cambridge so, I figured I'd let him show me the way. He was in a cranky mood that day…"Why did you call me?!” He screamed. We were in the car for maybe 2 minutes and he got pulled over by the Police. "What's this guy doing?" Uncle Jerry asked me -"He's pulling you over", I told him. He wasn't happy.
He was going too fast - if I remember correctly 45 in a 30. He got a ticket and angrily drove me to the Museum. He was always looking out for himself and he was determined to fight this in court. He came up with a strategy. His defense would be that he was "going with the flow of traffic" and he would tell the court he was "on a fixed income and couldn't afford the ticket and the insurance surcharge". His plan was to wear old clothes and not shave.
We all know Uncle Jerry loved clothes, he loved to shop and he took pride in his appearance. But he told me, If he "dressed like a homeless bum" (his words), he'd have a more believable case and he'd have a better chance of winning. I was to join him as his "witness". As it turns out, Watertown Traffic Court is an old building and the sound echoed everywhere. Uncle Jerry was wearing his hearing aid but, they never seemed to work right. He couldn't hear anything the judge was saying to him. He basically kept talking over the judge repeating that he “was going with the flow of traffic.”
It got comical, everyone in the court was very entertained. Lots of people laughing. He broke up the boredom of every day traffic court. At 5 foot 3, Uncle Jerry always had an extra large presence in any room he was in. The judge was frustrated but, also a good sport about it.
It was as if he was getting to know Uncle Jerry. He finally gave up. It was December, and the judge said "Mr. Lombardi slow down and have a Merry Christmas”. He dismissed the ticket.
This called for a celebration. Uncle Jerry got us tickets to see the Holiday Boston Pops at Symphony Hall. Might not have been my first choice but, this was his victory. We went to Frank's Steak house in Cambridge before the show. For some reason I remember him washing his hands in the men's room and he told me with excitement "I think I'm going to get a mixed drink". It was martinis and filets that day (a break from his usual scotch. This was Uncle Jerry. He's not paying the speeding ticket but he’s happy to buy concert tickets and dinner. “I'm not cheap, I just don't like to get screwed", he often said.
He's been gone for just over 2 months. It’s a noticeable absence. No one is sneaking food onto my plate anymore.
As we were going through the house over the last few weeks it was hard not to be be captivated by his old photo albums.
Looking through these pictures reminded me that Gerard Thomas Lombardi was more than Uncle Jerry. In black and white and in color - its a snap shot of 100 years.
The youngest of seven. A portrait of mischievous school boy - straight out of the little rascals
A uniformed navy officer seen laughing with his pals
A druggist compounding medication
A young pharmacist wearing a shirt, tie, and white lab coat and with a perfectly groomed and full head of hair
His pictures of his drug store, Lombardi Apothecary stand out. Uncle Jerry would often refer to himself as the proletariat, that he worked 7 days a week. This was him for over 30 years. Serving his neighborhood in East Cambridge. A happy store owner that loved his employees. The photos of his store, like the Wizard of Oz, take us from black-and-white to color. Lombardi Apothecary went through renovations, there new workers, new items like razor blades, cigars, or greeting cards on display. But, just one consistent and recognizable Uncle Jerry. The photo albums go from the Drug Store to Murphy Court.
His commute home.
There’s pictures of Aunt Mary and Aunt Josie. Pictures of Gram. Pictures of all of us. Everyone is a lot younger. Both sides of the house. The backyard, the patio. This was Uncle Jerry's home for 100 years. The boy, the bachelor, the brother, Uncle, neighbor, and friend. They'll never be another.
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