The Baron, Part III



As Etta got older, Jack liked getting away from home more and more. It was a mixed bag because he worried about his mother, but on the other hand, neither one of them drove, and Etta didn’t have the same appetite for recreational activities as she used to. Jack was very high energy, and let’s face it, Etta had her circle of friends in the condo complex, and her daughter Ruth close by (Rita and Jacks’ sister), but there wasn’t much in the way of activities for Jack.

I lived by the beach, as did Rita and my siblings, so there were a host of people to entertain Jack and places to take him out and about……Mr. High Society.

Jack came down to the beach one particular weekend in October. We had just learned that my paternal grandmother Margaret, had geriatric leukemia. She was in the hospital getting transfusions. From what I remember that was basically the way that type of leukemia was treated. She never got chemotherapy, just transfusions every few months, and lived a pretty normal life for about 3 more years, dying at 93.

Jack always referred to my paternal grandparents as Mr. & Mrs. ___, and loved them to death. They loved him too, and used to invite Jack to their farm in Massachusetts when they were younger. I told Jack, that we could go see my grandfather, Joseph, after dinner and visit for a while. Remember, Jack loves to socialize. It doesn’t matter what the circumstances are.

It was a Friday night, Jack helped me make dinner, and one of his favorite things in the whole wide world was coffee…real coffee….with caffeine. And if he could sit around and chit chat with a bunch of women, all the better. Etta didn’t drink coffee so Jack had one cup of instant decaf every morning. That was it. But, when Jack came to my house, he knew we had the real deal.

That evening we had a serious issue. Do you remember the old perculators? And do you remember the Maxwell House commercial that showed the glass knob on top, and the music would go “blup blup blub” as the coffee bubbled up(with rhythm of course)? Jack loved it, and because I loved Jack, I usually used my Corning ware perculator just for him. God how he loved watching that coffee perk! Oh, and it was caffeinated coffee….Etta be damned!

Did you notice I said “I usually use my Corning ware perculator”? That’s because that particular night I couldn’t find the glass knob that fits in the lid. I made the coffee in my Mr. Coffeemaker instead. Jack was ok with that, but asked if we could go to Sav-On’s after visiting my grandfather, and see if they have the replacement part.
I said yes, if he promised to say “no thank you” to any offers of refreshments from my grandfather, we could stop and pick up a Marie Calendar pie to take home, and have with some freshly perked coffee. I didn’t want my grandfather waiting on us. We weren’t staying long, but I knew he’d offer, and Jack is not above jumping at the chance to have a little snack….even though we just had dinner.

Everything was settled. My husband gave the four kids their baths and got them ready for bed while Jack and I went over my Grandfather’s house.

As we were walking up the sidewalk, Jack said “Poor Mrs. _____”.

I said, “I know, Jack, but let’s not talk about it in front of Mr._____ because he’s not taking it well.”

As I rang the door bell, you won’t believe what Jack said! He looks at me and said. “I wonder if he knows she’s a goner?”

We didn’t stay long, thank God! Joseph was doing OK. He talked to Margaret on the phone, and she was in good spirits. All was well.

I was proud of Jack keeping his zipper shut and not saying anything to upset Joseph. He wouldn’t intentionally hurt him, it’s just that Jack thrived on that kind of thing, and loved to talk about sickness, funerals, and hospitals.

As a side note, we had a code that we used to get Jack to put a plug in it, or zip it. We would look at him and say, “ PRESSURE COOKER”. Use your imagination….and I won’t have to tell you about the time Jack was at Rita’s and Rita was cooking corned beef in her pressure cooker, and that there was a malfunction, and the lid to the pressure cooker ended up stuck in the ceiling. Nope, I can’t tell you that story. Because Jack’s already told the whole world. And when it’s time to shut up…we remind him by saying PRESSURE COOKER.

We went to Sav-On’s and got a glass knob for the perculator, and then we stopped off at Marie Calendars and got a nice French Apple pie.

When we got home, the kids are all upstairs in bed. My husband was asleep on the couch with the TV on. I started to make the coffee, and Jack asked me if he should wake up my husband, who for the sake of this story is named Fred. I told Jack to let Fred sleep until the coffee was done. Well, Jack wasn’t very patient….he paced back and forth between the kitchen and the family room. Finally, I told him he could wake Fred up.

The next thing I heard was Fred scream….he came staggering into the kitchen in a haze. I asked him ”what happened?”

He said Jack put his face right up against his, and whispered, “Freddie, Freddie” and as he started to open his eyes, Jack yelled ”PIE!”

Tomorrow is Vintage Thingy Thursday. Stop by and see one more of my prize possessions. If you ask me if you can have it when I die, you get nothing. Just saying.

The Baron, Part II

Jack always lived with his parents, Bill and Etta. My grandfather, Bill, passed away in the late 60’s and Jack officially became the man of the house. Etta ruled with a firm hand….she had to. Be that as it may, Jack adored his mother. He had this 11 x 14 picture of Etta, circa early 50’s, hanging in his bedroom. My replica is 3 x 5.

On occasion someone in the family would insist that Jack wouldn’t even know the picture of Etta was missing if someone took it down. Do not even go there! If truth be told, and we could peek in on Jack as he knelt for his bedtime prayers…..he would be in front of a crucifix and that picture of Etta.

I went to visit Jack and my grandmother one day in the early 80’s. Etta was ninety something, and was in the process of laying a brick sidewalk. Jack had just had some medical procedure the week before… which put him in his glory. By glory, I mean he loved that kind of stuff, it gave Jack something fresh to talk about. He had a memory for details. In this particular instance it was medical terminology. He loved throwing around medical terms. It gave him a whole new topic to talk someone’s ear off over.

After some chit chat with my grandmother, she asked me if I wanted to go with Jack to Thrifty Drugs store, across the street to pick up a few prescriptions. Jack often went alone, and everyone knew him. They also knew about him. Etta laid down the rules…don’t encourage his silliness, and discouraged them from giving him any ammunition to go on and on about. It had nothing to do with squelching Jack’s social life, but it was to protect him from any public ridicule, and protect the kind clerks from the never-ending ramblings that Jack was famous for.

Jack and I were heading out the door, with Etta firmly reminding both of us to behave. She poked me with her cane, that had a range of ten feet, and let me know we were to stay out of the toiletries aisle, and no ice cream. Jack had high blood pressure and the poor guy didn’t get special treats very often. Etta knew I was a sneak….just like Rita, and she didn't trust either of us. She knew we had a soft spot for Jack.

Off we go, across the street. Entering Thrifty’s with Jack was like being on the red carpet with a rock star.

‘Hi Jack”…….the clerks would call out.

“Hey Jack, whats up”?

We head towards the pharmacy, all the while Jack is very aloof and courteous…not stopping, but nodding, kind of like royalty, like a baron. He was on a mission. He was about to have a one-on-one with the pharmacist.

The pharmacist goes over everything with Jack, then looks at me and says, “He may need a stool softener”.

BINGO! One of Jack’s favorite topics……poop, gas, movements, enemas, laxatives, stools. It takes a whole lot of talking, but I convince Jack that his mother has plenty of stool softeners already. If not we will come back. I mean really, a 90 year old woman without stool softeners? Besides, if we take time to check out the stool softeners, we won’t have time to check out the after shaves, and colognes. Maybe if we hurry, we can also get a single scoop ice cream. Those were magic words that Jack loved to hear.

We buy an ice cream cone first, and then go check out the fufu smelling stuff. It’s a time saving thing. Jack likes to milk his ice cream for as long as possible. We smell every cologne in the store, careful not to spray any on us, because Etta will have a fit. It’s not like she trusts me, and she will look for evidence. Jack still has the last of his cone to eat, and I tell him to throw it in his mouth because we have to get back before Etta suspects something. I check out his face, and wipe any trace of ice cream……everything’s kosher!

Jack is happy as a lark as we start back across the street. Etta asks Jack if the pharmacy was “busy”, he says, “not too bad”. He then goes on to tell her about the pharmacists concerns, and that he needs stool softeners. Etta, who’s been putting two and two together, and Etta who probably called the pharmacy, looked at Jack and asked him if he had an ice cream cone. Jack said no. Etta dropped the subject, and asked me if I’d help get lunch out while Jack set the table. Thank you, Baby Jesus…..we dodged the bullet!

We sit down to lunch, and yakked about nothing in particular.....we usually get around to silly talk. Jack loves it, and I encourage it. I get a thrill out of Jack naming all the puppies his childhood dog Trixie had...all three litters. That's the kind of stuff that gets us all laughing, really laughing!

All of a sudden Etta looks at Jack and asks, “Jack what’s that on your tongue?”
Jack goes……"AHHHHHHH" to reveal A huge piece of cone on his tongue…

Ice Cream Cone!

BUSTED!

Next: Jack scares the bee geesus out of a grown man...

The Baron

That’s what we called my Uncle Jack. Jack was born in 1922, and he was Rita’s younger brother.

Jack was mentally retarded. I realize in today’s world of political correctness, some people are offended by that term. The reality is, that’s the correct term, a term our family understood and never saw as inflammatory. Nor were we ashamed of it just as we weren’t ashamed of Jack…God forbid! Now, I find it unacceptable to call someone a retard.

We all loved Jack; we all knew from the day we were born, that Jack was special. Special meant, he was a flashy dresser, he always smelled like Aqua Velva, Old Spice, Brut or Hai Karate, he always got to sit in the front seat and he could say the rosary in six minutes flat!

Before I get to the meat of this post….no, we aren’t there yet, which will be one of many posts that will convince you that Jack and Rita fell from the same tree. I want to give a little background about Jack and the way things were in the 1920s. Jack was raised by strict but loving parents in a large Irish Catholic family. Young preschool Jack was very active, and quite the handful for my grandmother, Henrietta. Like the time he got stuck under the stove. Or the time he was riding on the back of the Ice Truck naked as a jaybird.

Call it denial, or just unaware, but Jack was sent to regular public school for kindergarten. That was the beginning and end of his public schooling. The professionals tried to convince my grandparents that Jack belonged in a “State School” as in institution. My grandparents bravely keep Jack at home. He did go to a special school, but I think most of what he learned was from his family. This decision wasn’t a popular one at that time. Rita told about friends not being allowed to come over to their house because of Jack, and she wasn’t invited to their homes either.

The Baron: Part I
or “gee your dad seems awfully nice….”

Jack, who was fortyish, was staying for the weekend. He loved his sister Rita; she wasn’t as strict as his mother Henrietta, who, for future reference will be known as Etta. Rita didn’t care if he was silly. It was a trade off because no one could simonize your car like Jack, or clean your windows like Jack. Now don’t get me wrong, no one took advantage of Jack’s talents. He prided himself as a perfectionist, and that he was. He was also in demand, and he went with the highest bid. It didn’t have to be money. Maybe it was a trip to Baskin Robbins, or Bob’s, Home of the Big Boy. Or some pie from Marie Calendars. There were times Jack had a better offer from Shirl the girl in Palm Springs, and he would "cancel" on Rita, it was just too bad. But mostly he loved working, and he took pride in everything he did. It also made him feel important.

I was a junior in high school, and just starting to date. My parents set a very early curfew, which disappeared entirely when my younger sisters started dating….I think my parents ran out of energy by then, and also knew it was futile.

I had a date with a boy from a boy’s Catholic high school that I had met through a classmate of his. A cute boy and I was both nervous and excited. My father was out of town on business, and my mother decided I could stay out later than usual.

Now my siblings were in the family room watching TV, Rita was across the street visiting with the neighbor, and Jack….Jack was sitting in the living room where he could listen to his Tommy Dorsey albums and stare out the living room window that looked directly at the neighbor’s living room window where Rita was. That leaves me. I was getting ready for my date.

I didn’t hear the doorbell, but as I started down the hall towards the living room I heard Jack talking up a storm. Low and behold Jack was deep in conversation with my date. About car stuff. Jack had a memory like no one on the planet. He knew every model car that was ever made, and every detail about them. He asked my date how often he simonized his car, and what he used blah blah….Of course the conversation was pretty much one-sided, as my date sat there desperately waiting to be rescued.

I quickly gave Jack a peck on the check and we said good-bye. With authority in his voice he said “OK, you guys have fun, and don’t keep her out too late.” major eye roll here...We headed out to dinner then to a party with some friends. My date seemed a bit distant and deep in thought all night. When he took me home he said....

“Gee your dad seemed awfully nice. Is your whole family that interesting?”

Next: Etta asks the all important question, “Jack, what's that on your tongue”?