Losing Giants

I learned earlier this week that “Uncle Manuel” had passed away. I knew he had been ill, and Mom and I had actually been speaking of him earlier in the day. Coincidence, I suppose. A friend (his nephew) posted this picture of Manuel and his siblings saying, “Today they are all together again. God bless them all.”

That image and the notion that they were ALL gone hit me hard. This is how I remember them – at the height of the late 70’s/early 80’s. The Greek community in my hometown was small but mighty. Greeks are a passionate people. They work hard and play harder. They are generous and loving to an embarrassing degree. They were a significant part of my childhood and my young adulthood. They were part of my big, fat Greek wedding.

I have very specific memories of each of them.

Thea Cia always seemed so glamorous to me. She was tall and had a million dollar smile. She was also a talented artist. Her wedding gift to us was a hand-painted enhancement of our invitation. She framed it for us. It is still on display in our living room.

Uncle Lacky was my brother’s Godfather, which is a pretty big deal in the Greek church. I remember him as a fast-walker and always having a smile on his face. We had many good times with he and Thea Helene in their home on Academy Circle.

Uncle Jimmy was dapper. He was always well-dressed and looked quite “Hollywood” to me. When I was working at a family restaurant in Fenwick Island one summer, he came in for breakfast early one morning. I was thrilled to see him. He left me a $20 tip on an order of pancakes.

And then, Uncle Manuel…he was very special. He was a character. He was Santa. He had a crushing handshake. He would shake your hand vigorously until your arm looked like a rubber band. Many times, I would run and hide because I didn’t want to shake his hand!

He was an imposing figure – literally a giant in my 10-year old eyes. He was tall and broad and had a booming, yet smooth voice. His laugh was hearty. And his heart was pure gold. I wouldn’t realize his pure genuineness until I was much older.

Just like all of his siblings, Uncle Manuel was a kind and generous man. He visited my father (another Greek giant), who is severely infirmed, weekly and played a penny game with him until he could no longer do it. He brought the priest to give my Dad communion. Beyond the church, he was a successful restaurateur and a mindful, serving citizen of the community. And he was a proud family man, raising five very wonderful kids with his wife, Thea Florine, and now many grandchildren.

It’s always hard to say goodbye, even if it has been a long and well-lived life. The loss of this “Greatest Generation” is significant, and I don’t know that we’ll ever see another one quite like it. I like to think I’ve learned well from these giants – how to work hard, the value of a dollar, the importance of family and integrity, and doing things the right way, not necessarily the easy way.

I sat in my hometown church and reflected on Uncle Manuel and others who have passed. I saw more giants (some of whom I hadn’t seen in 20 years) and they embraced me warmly. I heard the familiar hymns and chants, and smelled the incense. I was comforted by the ceremony and tradition of the service, and I smiled. I thought of how much my church has made me the person I am today. How the people of that church impacted me. And how maybe I could be a giant in someone’s eyes someday, too. I should be so lucky.