Memorial for my friends' dad
It's weird that I've hit the point in life where my friends' parents have started passing away. It's too soon. There are still graduations and kids' weddings and things like that to look forward to, especially when the family in question is close-knit.
Dan and Brian and I were close friends back in college. Between our commuter group shenanigans and band, we had a lot in common and spent a lot of time together. They were also good people overall, albeit with a bit of mischief (especially Brian), so you know they likely came from good parents. And they did. They hosted a few parties back in the day so I got to meet them and I came away with positive feelings.
Fast-forward a bit; we lost touch after college and had gone our separate ways, and then I found myself joining a band. And who should be seated directly behind me but Brian, and who should be in the row behind him but Dan. It was nice to get reacquainted with them, and by that time they'd each been married for a few years and had their children. Dan's youngest was just born when I started.
This is how you know you're dealing with a close-knit family: Their parents continued to come to all their concerts. I'd look up in the balcony for indoor concerts and see them, and during the summer, I'd look down the center aisle and there they were, just off center, several rows back. Usually there would be a few grandkids next to them as well. I cannot tell you how much it warmed my heart to see them out there, rain or shine, because not everybody has that. That's just how much they love their boys. And, when Brian was playing the contrabass clarinet, which is a very long instrument, he'd either have to sit on a stool, which got uncomfortable over time, or double-stack chairs, which was unsafe because the chairs would slide. Eventually their dad made him blocks of wood to raise up one single chair, making it safe and stable to sit on while playing, and he connected them with a rope for easy transporting. It could be like a puzzle trying to untwist the rope at times, but it was a great solution to the problem. It wasn't until I read the obituary that I realized he'd been a woodworker, so it was no big deal for him to do that for his son.
I learned a lot about their dad today. Their mom is the oldest of 11, and pretty much all her siblings stayed at their house at one point or another. They called it "Hotel B" (their last name). They had all sorts of funny stories, ranging from construction projects to teaching the youngest aunt how to burp the alphabet to an unfortunate tubing incident that left Mr. B nearly without his swim trunks. So much laughter. That's the legacy you want to leave behind, numerous stories that your family enjoys sharing. That, and the fact that every one of Mrs. B's siblings shared that he welcomed all of them in, to the point where they didn't consider him a brother-in-law, they considered him a brother. That's lovely.
I got to give Mrs. B a hug and tell her how I loved seeing her and her husband at our concerts, and I'll miss not seeing him, and another band member had said they'll be looking for her at the concerts still. I also mentioned the infamous party held at their house where the cops got called. She went, you were at that party?! Oh, yeah. She said that when Dan opened the door and saw it was a cop, he immediately closed it and one of the group had to go, you need to let him in! I mean, I guess that's a sign of how much the boys didn't get into trouble, that they didn't know what to do when a cop showed up on the front porch. This was how "wild" the party was: We were playing a game that is inherently quiet. The boys had to wake their parents up to go talk to the cop. Brian had been standing there when I got up to his mom, as I was behind a bunch of his coworkers, but I'd seen him and Dan right when I got there as they were standing in the doorway by the guestbook.
I'd sat toward the back during the service part, which lasted over an hour as nearly all of Mrs. B's siblings got up to speak, as did a brother of Mr. B's and at least one close friend. I saw someone whom I thought I recognized, so when it was over, I went over and said hi. Sure enough, it was their good friend Carrie (good Carrie, not the other Carrie). She comes into town in the summer and she's been to some of our concerts. The gal in the row in front of her was one of Dan's coworkers, and unfortunately she was about the only one of those to show up for him, which upset her and Dan. But we did get to talk for a little bit and I mentioned the party story; he remembered it was a Christmas potluck but because there were people who'd graduated with me at that party, it must have been in 1998, before Carrie went to school with us. Alas, she was not part of that party. But she became so close to the family that she helped build the koi pond in their parents' backyard a few years later. She's basically "Aunt Carrie" to their kids, and her daughter is close in age to them as well. She lives out of state, so it was really nice of her to make the effort and be there for the boys. I know they appreciated it.
Dan and Brian and I were close friends back in college. Between our commuter group shenanigans and band, we had a lot in common and spent a lot of time together. They were also good people overall, albeit with a bit of mischief (especially Brian), so you know they likely came from good parents. And they did. They hosted a few parties back in the day so I got to meet them and I came away with positive feelings.
Fast-forward a bit; we lost touch after college and had gone our separate ways, and then I found myself joining a band. And who should be seated directly behind me but Brian, and who should be in the row behind him but Dan. It was nice to get reacquainted with them, and by that time they'd each been married for a few years and had their children. Dan's youngest was just born when I started.
This is how you know you're dealing with a close-knit family: Their parents continued to come to all their concerts. I'd look up in the balcony for indoor concerts and see them, and during the summer, I'd look down the center aisle and there they were, just off center, several rows back. Usually there would be a few grandkids next to them as well. I cannot tell you how much it warmed my heart to see them out there, rain or shine, because not everybody has that. That's just how much they love their boys. And, when Brian was playing the contrabass clarinet, which is a very long instrument, he'd either have to sit on a stool, which got uncomfortable over time, or double-stack chairs, which was unsafe because the chairs would slide. Eventually their dad made him blocks of wood to raise up one single chair, making it safe and stable to sit on while playing, and he connected them with a rope for easy transporting. It could be like a puzzle trying to untwist the rope at times, but it was a great solution to the problem. It wasn't until I read the obituary that I realized he'd been a woodworker, so it was no big deal for him to do that for his son.
I learned a lot about their dad today. Their mom is the oldest of 11, and pretty much all her siblings stayed at their house at one point or another. They called it "Hotel B" (their last name). They had all sorts of funny stories, ranging from construction projects to teaching the youngest aunt how to burp the alphabet to an unfortunate tubing incident that left Mr. B nearly without his swim trunks. So much laughter. That's the legacy you want to leave behind, numerous stories that your family enjoys sharing. That, and the fact that every one of Mrs. B's siblings shared that he welcomed all of them in, to the point where they didn't consider him a brother-in-law, they considered him a brother. That's lovely.
I got to give Mrs. B a hug and tell her how I loved seeing her and her husband at our concerts, and I'll miss not seeing him, and another band member had said they'll be looking for her at the concerts still. I also mentioned the infamous party held at their house where the cops got called. She went, you were at that party?! Oh, yeah. She said that when Dan opened the door and saw it was a cop, he immediately closed it and one of the group had to go, you need to let him in! I mean, I guess that's a sign of how much the boys didn't get into trouble, that they didn't know what to do when a cop showed up on the front porch. This was how "wild" the party was: We were playing a game that is inherently quiet. The boys had to wake their parents up to go talk to the cop. Brian had been standing there when I got up to his mom, as I was behind a bunch of his coworkers, but I'd seen him and Dan right when I got there as they were standing in the doorway by the guestbook.
I'd sat toward the back during the service part, which lasted over an hour as nearly all of Mrs. B's siblings got up to speak, as did a brother of Mr. B's and at least one close friend. I saw someone whom I thought I recognized, so when it was over, I went over and said hi. Sure enough, it was their good friend Carrie (good Carrie, not the other Carrie). She comes into town in the summer and she's been to some of our concerts. The gal in the row in front of her was one of Dan's coworkers, and unfortunately she was about the only one of those to show up for him, which upset her and Dan. But we did get to talk for a little bit and I mentioned the party story; he remembered it was a Christmas potluck but because there were people who'd graduated with me at that party, it must have been in 1998, before Carrie went to school with us. Alas, she was not part of that party. But she became so close to the family that she helped build the koi pond in their parents' backyard a few years later. She's basically "Aunt Carrie" to their kids, and her daughter is close in age to them as well. She lives out of state, so it was really nice of her to make the effort and be there for the boys. I know they appreciated it.