Celebrating Jack

This, my dear followers, is an invitation I am extending to you all to celebrate the life of my dear brother, Jack.

The Spaight clan, here in America, is having a celebration of sorts for Jack Spaight. It is at a local establishment called Romanelli's Funeral Services located at 89-01 Rockaway Blvd. on February 26 from 1 to 5.

If you are unable to come, please share your memories of my brother on the Romanelli website.

Please help ease our pain

 

Memories of My Brother

Ever since we were young boys growing up in our house on 121 Street, my brother Jack and I were thick as thieves. We played together and went to the same schools together. We were rarely seen apart. Our parents would often dress us up similarly. It's no wonder my aunt Paula always got our names mixed up. 

One of our childhood games was called "Johnny Rebel". It was a take on Hide & Seek. However, our version involved the entire neighborhood and many of the people who lived there. Jack was a "Union" officer and I was an escaped "Rebel" soldier who he needed to find. I hid anywhere on our block, you name it and I hid there—in garages, under cars, or in our neighbor's basement. But he always found me.

Jack was also a cop. And thanks to our next door neighbor, Mrs. Dillon, he dressed the part. She sewed an entire policeman's uniform from scratch which he wore as he rode the police cart our grandfather got him.

He could do no wrong as fas as she was concerned. She never complained when he tossed a basketball that inadvertently bounced into her yard and snapped a branch off hew prized rose bushes. Nope. He got off completely. Instead, our mom put the blame on me.

Sure, the years passed and as they did we turned into adults and we each got married. Although we moved away from one another we always made it a point to get together and make more memories.

I remember the promise I made to him while he was in a rehabilitation place for cancer patients. He was frail and weak and I visited him each week, oftentimes I saw him twice in one week. Sunday and Tuesday.

I said that I was going to continue to visit him each week after he got home.

That never happened, cause my dear baby brother developed Covid, then pneumonia, finally leaving him in septic shock.  He left us peacefully last Tuesday.

But don't be sad and wipe your tears. Death is only temporary. I have to believe that. I must. I'm convinced  he is with our mom and dad, making some new memories of their own. 

Dear Aunt Paula,


I'm sure you know the story of the Prodigal Son.  Heck, who am I kidding, you probably can recite that story word for word.  Well right now I feel like that son who was lost and returns to his father for fogiveness.  Only in my particular case, I'm not returning for forgiveness but to ask a favor.

Let me explain further.  Someone we both know and love is in a bit of a pickle.  I don't want to tell you his name right now.  I know you used to worry about the least little thing.  Besides, if I gave you his name, like always you would get it mixed up with me L.O.L. (that's Laugh Out Loud in computer talk.)  What I can do is give you a hint.  He is someone I looked up to most of my life (he's taller.)

I figured that you have some great connections where you are right now and maybe you could ask  the person who's in charge to pull some strings.

Crap (excuse my French), who am I kidding, you know as well as I that keeping secrets is not one of my strong points. The person who is in a jam is Jackie.  And it's more than a jam or a pickle; it's a serious health problem.

He told me about it two days ago, and I have been walking around with my stomach in knots, not knowing how to help.  Billie is great with moral support and helping me to understand medical jargon.  She spent hours and hours crying for her favorite brother-in-law.  What a gal.

I thought I was going to keep Jackie's name out of this request but I can't.  He's too important to all of us to be referred as just "someone."

So, please do whatever you can for Jackie.  And please help Joanne, Danny, Stephanie and the rest of his family during this time.  I will be forever in your debt.  Before I end this, give my love to my mom and dad and Uncle Eddie.

Tell them I'll give them a big hug in about 35 or so years.


Love,
Jimmy

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