Sunday, November 17, 2019
There aren't many people in your life who fundamentally shape who you are. But that's what Uncle John did for my brother, Bret, and me.
He showed us what culture was through travel, food, and other experiences, like when he gave us $100 to go play minigolf in Montreal after he ate a bad hot dog and wanted us out of the hotel room for awhile.
It was like Bret and I had won the lottery. And, in truth, we did: So many of our funniest—and best and happiest—memories are because of Uncle John.
He taught us the phrase "my dogs are barking" to describe feeling tired after walking around. He forced Bret to read Ragtime in a day when he was in high school. He told the Canadian border guard that he was our father, then our uncle, then our father, then our uncle. He'd get out of his car and walk parallel parkers through the steps if they were struggling. He made roast beef sandwiches for Yankee games, and when people stood in front of our seats, he'd yell out, "Nice to see ya!" When we were leaving Paris after a family trip there, he said, wistfully, "Ah, Paris ... fuck it." In Dusseldorf, Germany, he lathered up and shaved in a public bathroom with his undershirt on.
He always sent us the first care packages at camp, signing his letters to me, "Unks," and, to Bret, "UJ." He'd take us to the fanciest French restaurants in the city, and we'd be the youngest people in the restaurant by decades saying things like "boeuf bourguignon." We did an annual lobsterfest after grade school was over. He sent us money at college and told us to go have fun.
Mostly, though, we'll remember Uncle John because he was there. At our bar mitzvahs, our graduations, my wedding, and a thousand inconsequential moments in between. Sitting in his lap, singing "He's Got The Whole World In His Hands," and songs from the Sound of Music. We were the beneficiaries of his time, patience, immense generosity, intelligence, and love, and we want to thank his family for sharing him with us. We weren't technically his nephews, but he was every bit an uncle to us.
We love him, and we will miss him.
Bret and Ethan Begun
