Eulogy for Pop-pop

Pop-pop was my hero.

I say "Pop-pop" because that's the only name I've ever known him by. But I call him my hero, because of all the people I've met in all my life, the one more than any other, whom I can point to and say, "Wow. I would love to be just like him someday." - that's Pop-pop.

People who knew him would see him and say, "Gus, how do you do it? You're into your nineties, but you've got more pep and vigor than plenty of people a quarter century your junior. What's your secret?"

I knew. He told me. He told everyone he met. Many times.

"Be happy... every, every day."


When I think of the my grandfather, some of my favourite memories start with exploring his basement as a very young child. The cellar of a machinist, its walls were lined with shelves of strange tools and objects, filled with furniture being repaired, jars of nuts and bolts, and all sorts of wonderful things to discover.

I remember the clubhouse he and my father built from scratch in our backyard, which we played in for years as children.

I remember the catapult he built, which I used for my seventh grade physics class at Springton Lake. That was after my cousin Susan had used it for her... seventh grade physics class at Springton Lake. Just before my sister Dana... used it for her seventh grade physics class at Springton Lake. Last I heard it was bouncing around between the neighborhood kids. I wouldn't be surprised if someone handed it in again this year.

I remember after I was able to drive, spending summer days mowing his lawn. The lawn would only take half an hour, but I'd spend the next three at his kitchen table, listening to stories of the old days. How he ended up with his tattoo - instead of the one he wanted. His first job at a barbershop. How my grandmother quit her job two weeks after they got married, and about a burnt meatloaf.

I remember him taking off his jacket, getting out on that dance floor, and radiating pure joy at his 90th birthday party.

And Pop-pop was smooth. He could get a hug and a kiss from any girl in the room and make her feel twice as good as him for giving it.

But most of all I remember his smile, and the laugh, which we saw and heard so often.


I tell these stories because sharing them makes me feel good. So if any of you find yourself having a hard time today, getting a bit caught up, or are feeling down, come and find me. Tell me your stories. The ones you remember about him, or the ones he might have told you. We'll both end up feeling better.

The only thing truly sad about today is how much he would have wanted to be here. To see you all, the people who touched his life, and whose lives he touched.

But he wouldn't have wanted anyone to be sad today. He would have wanted everyone to be happy... every, every day.