The Eulogy to My Uncle Joe and Aunt Lillian May 19, 2018

Today I speak at the Celebration of Life for a man, my Uncle Joe who was known by those who
loved him as "The Legend." These are a portion of my remarks (if I can get through them). For all of my loyal readers, I hope that you have had Aunts and Uncles like Joe and Lillian Cantone.

Joe and Lillian headed west to California…

My folks, Louie and Tessie followed…

They encouraged Benny and Rosie…

…And thus began “Brooklyn’s Glenmore Avenue Trek” to find the California Dream.

They have all passed now. And their children and their children’s children continue their legacy… following in the footsteps of my Uncle Joe and Aunt Lillian.

With my Uncle Joe’s passing yesterday, it made for a tossing-and-turning night of sleep, as my mind kept trying to find the words to take the measure of a man, as I recalled the memories of the patriarch of the Cantone family.

*          *

Joe Cantone and “his bride” Lillian were no frills, but plenty of thrills, kinda folks. Joe would tell me that he might be the brawn, but Lillian was the brains of the operation. Joe was a talker; Lillian a listener. Both were wise, humble and, most of all, generous. These were qualities passed down to the Fab Five: Joe, Doreen, Joyce, Janet, and Neal.

The Cantone’s are all about family. Inclusion. Love. They follow the lead of their mom and dad: hard working, multi-gifted, and kind. Even though I saw them occasionally, I always sensed that their “second cousin” was blood. They went out of their way to see me speak in schools, and my wife Pam and I were proud to be in their circle of love when Uncle Joe flew past his 85^th birthday in style—even dancing the hula in a grass skirt with coconut shells adorning his chest. He cracked everyone up. I will forever be grateful for their embrace.

Joe was a master of many trades, but his greatest accomplishment was to put five children on his back, make sure they understood that “Christ, ya gotta be smart and work your ass off to make it.” And make it they all did. It was never easy for Joe, but it was never dull, and it was always, always loud in their house. Whether it was singing at Christmas or just a get together on a birthday, you had to adjust the volume on your own headset as your ears would ring—and when you left you always knew that your own voice would be happily strained.

There were special moments between me and my Uncle Joe. One such moment was on the morning my father passed away, Joe came up the steps of their mobile home, and said to me, “Son of a Bitch, Bobby—well, if you ya gotta go, Christ, Louie went the right way.”

One thing you had to understand was Uncle Joe had his own vocabulary and style of speaking to you. He reminded me visually of the actor James Cagney, with that “Listen to me, Kid” style as his shoulders often lifted, and he poised himself to make a point. He always called me “Bobby”—and I liked that. He often started sentences with “Christ”—to Joe, the word “Christ” was a variation of “Okay” or “Well” or just “Geeze”—as in “Christ, Tessie anytime you need me I’m just down the street.” “Jesus Christ” was reserved for when he was mad…but I won’t go there.

All of us “kids” knew that we always saw the best of our uncles and aunts at get togethers. My cousins always thought Aunt Tessie and Uncle Louie were funny and caring. But we also knew that when the party was over, all of the aunts and uncles could face hard times, too. Nevertheless, when we were all together, it brought out the best in all of us.

Uncle Joe was a larger than life character. We all referred to him as “The Legend.” But he was real; his smile wide; his eyes would twinkle behind his wrap-around shades (so Italian); and his laugh so hearty that all those around him were sucked into the laughter, as well. And his dreams, his California dreams of a lasting legacy, were realized by the generations he witnessed with his own two eyes.

No greater accolade can be said of a man than that he made his family’s dreams come true.

That is what I most admire about him.

God Bless,

“Bobby”