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Just finished writing my obituary. It was brief. "He lived. He died."
At 84, finally coming to terms with the inevitable. The experience started me thinking about the people, family, friends and furry creatures who have passed away. While each had an impact, some, whose deaths I categorized as tragic or a blessing, have had lasting effects. For me, grieving was layered, and their passing was on top.
The tragic category includes my mother-in-law Lorraine Crouse who was runover by an idiot plowing out Arby's without a beeper. She was on her way to do volunteer work at the Herkimer Salvation Army. Dec. 27, 2000.
It also includes Kris Cagwin from my hometown of Little Falls who died in a housefire along with his brother and sister in 1989. He was one of my favorite students at HCCC, a good-looking blue-eyed blond kid full of piss and vinegar and smart as hell. One day, I walked into my office and noticed written in big block letters of the blackboard was "God thinks he's R.J." Author? Alexander the Great-my nickname for him. In his memory, I named our community action organization the Kris Cagwin Volunteers.
And the 6 McCleod children from the Falls who perished in another housefire in 1991 three days before Christmas. My youngest daughter Jennifer was one of their lifeguards at Monroe Street pool and sang Amazing Grace at their funeral. I think about them every October during fire safety month. In their memories, the Hunger Coalition has done something to promote fire safety. This year we donated Ollie the Fire Safety Owl magnets to 2,100 K-2 students attending Herkimer County schools.
Eddie Juteau Jr.'s death was both tragic and blessed. The Airman returned from Vietnam, married Kay, fathered Robbie and went to war again. This time against his own government. As a member of Agent Orange Victims International, he helped lead the fight to get Uncle Sam, Dow and Monsanto to admit that each was well aware of the toxicity of the dioxin-laced herbicide dumped on the countryside to the tune of millions of gallons resultingly killing thousands of his compatriots and their offspring.
He always began his talks by saying, "I was killed in Vietnam, only it took 10 years for me to die." HCCC prof Gary Ruff and 'Nam combat vet Den Thorp carried Ed to his final gig at Utica College. His body riddled by cancer, he was too weak to walk. Blessedly and tragically, he died two weeks later. Ed Jr. was the bravest, noblest man I ever knew. He took with him a piece of my heart.
I still grieve for the tragic losses of Terry and Gary. The former was my brother-in-law and we bonded from the time we met. T., his wife Joanne, their six kids and Kay and I spent a memorable week together at Willis Lodges on 7th Lake for over a decade. Every morning at 6, he'd head down to the Donut Shop and pick up a couple of dozen of the best danged cinnamon donuts in this world. I got six (one for Kay). Then it was kayaking, swimming, hiking around Moss Lake and card playing for the rest of the day. Lord, he loved those kids.
Each evening he'd tend to the campfire where the bunch of us shared stories, laughing and marveling at the starlit Adirondack light. Can't forget the rounds of golf at Inlet G.C. with Ruffer, Lyuu
Aney and Kelly "Dawg" Brown, followed by everyone gathering for some cocktails and dinner at the Big Moose. When Terry was murdered in 2017, I lost one of my "adopted" brothers.
The other was G.W. Ruff. I hired "Coach" (we both coached during the early days) at HCCC. He taught Sociology, American Minorities and Social Problems. During our interview session, the Hartwick grad correctly answered two questions-do you enjoy a grog or two and do you play slo-pitch softball?
We hit it off immediately. Mutual interests, academic (plight of American Indians) and social (Agent Orange and veterans' rights) sealed the deal. He proved to be a great teacher whose devotion to his students extended far beyond the classroom. Like Terry, his children came first.
And, of course, how can I forget our experiences in Herkimer's Over-30 Slo-Pitch Softball League? He batted 2nd and myself 3rd for the iconic Herkimer Bowling Center managed by the Green Unit, owner Donnie Miller. Softball aside, we made lifelong friends, members of the community-at-large, including Roy "Cordoon2" Henry, Tommy Rich, Chucks Tolman and Sullivan, the late, great Duane Ricci, Joe Madison, Eddie Lindsay, "Meter" Millington, and so many others. They made a couple of profs from up on the hill always feel welcome. Especially after we bought. And the golf leagues and skins games at Newport G.C. with Billy Eberlein and the late, great College basketball coach Jack "Streuk" Alofs.
COVID took the redhead down in 2020. Friend Rob Palmieri said it best- "There'll never be another like him." Terry and Gary took two more pieces of my heart.
Finally, last month the world was robbed of the presence of the unforgettable, indefatigable Angie Wiliczka. Blessedly, her suffering was over. She was 90. Like Eddie J., she valiantly battled an illness which broke her body but not that indominable spirit. Helen Reddy's "I Am Woman" could easily have been written for her. As could Sinatra's "My Way."
Yeah, she was loud, often combative and always stood her ground. She was never intimidated by the opposite sex, playing second fiddle only to her beloved "Quiet Man" husband Bill. We went way back. I first met her when she was a volunteer at the Red Cross. They say opposites attract, but not in our case. We're both alphas, at least on the surface. But those who really knew her recognized that beneath that surface beat a loving heart where empathy found a welcome place to dwell.
I'll share a very personal example of the real Angie. Several years ago, my youngest daughter Jennifer, suffering from a brain tumor, was being treated with chemo when she received a beautifully knitted "prayer shawl" from an Angie Wiliczka. Jen didn't know her. Ang had heard about Jen's plight and thought the gift appropriate. It sure as hell was. She told me that Angie was her personal angel who helped her through the worst days. Prayers answered-she remains cancer free.
Finally, one of my fondest memories of Angelina. Years ago, Kay and I invited Angie and her truly mother's son Pete (and wife Lynn and daughter Lauren) to the annual Crouse Family Christmas. Besides us, she didn't know anyone. She left knowing everybody. They all loved her. Her vivacious personality drew them to her like the proverbial magnet.
And so, "mouth of the south," (I was mouth of the north), Kay and I are going to miss those visits and will treasure the memories of one of the finest, most admirable women we've had the honor of knowing. Another piece of heart gone.
Death is final. But memories aren't. I'm grateful as hell for them, along with the photographs which keep so many people alive in my mind. At any given moment, I conjure up images of Gram Lenarcic, all of my pet dogs and cats (top layer), mom and dad, the Furnace St. Gang, Colonial Inn, Eddie J., Ruffer, Terry and Angie and so many more. They bring great comfort while preparing me for my fate.
Ray Lenarcic is a 1965 State University of New York at Fredonia graduate and is a resident of Herkimer.