Meet Ed
If you are joining me for the first time, I am in the midst of a mini-series regarding the sale of a condominium that Patty and I own in California. The previous post was about Patty’s favorite memory after a fantastic 12-year run. This entry is about my favorite memory. It involves the time Ed and I went tuna fishing, out of San Diego.
Before I tell you about the trip itself, a little back ground information is in order. Once you understand my relationship with Ed, I think you will apprecaite why the fishing trip means so much to me. I met Ed when I was 10 years old. He was almost 9. In the picture of two sockless buddies, Ed is wearing the white shirt; It looks like my pants are torn.
I was raised in a family of manly men. There was not much public affection among them, especially man to man. I remember saying when I was a kid "boys don’t hug boys". I don’t know who planted that idea in my mind, but it illustrates the silly barriers that the men in my family kept between themselves.
Even though my father and I loved each other, the only time I remember hugging him was when he was in his casket after suffering a fatal heart attack at age 61. Before that, neither of us ever said I love you to each other. We kind of hinted around at it. We would say things like "We love you guys" In my case, "We" meant Patty and me, and "you guys" meant my dad and my step mother, Bridget. Somehow, dragging the girls into it and making it into "gang love" made all that lovey dovey talk easier to deal with.
Ed’s family was the opposite. They were Italian and very animated. The men hugged everybody including each other. At their family functions they would hug when they entered the room for the first time. After that they would get a glass of wine and start arguing. Wild hand gestures were the norm. They bonded by getting loud and calling each other names. When it was time to go home they would all hug again because the bond mattered more than anything else. They seemed to have their own priorities ln proper order.
When Ed and I grew up together we never did resort to that huggy/kissy/affection stuff but one day, when we were in our 40's, Ed broke the ice. We had just come home from another fishing trip and as he got out of my truck, when I dropped him off at his home, he said, "I love you, man." Even though we had shared several decades, he caught me off guard. I did indeed love him too, but "Boys don’t hug boys" you know, let alone say those 3 particular words that are reserved for the women folk. I couldn’t bring myself to return the verbal affection. I think I grunted something affirmative like, "uh huh." But Ed was not deterred.
Thereafter, Ed stuck with it. He concluded each new meeting and every phone call the same way, "I love you". Before long it just came out. I said it too. It was natural after all. From that moment on, I was Italian, or at least it seemed like it. Ed was like a very dear brother to me. I loved him and I no longer cared who heard me say it. We shared lots of hugs and lots of I love yous after that.
My loving Italian brother taught me that boys do hug boys after all! Affection is normal and so is showing it and saying it. Now I am a chronic hugger. I even hug Patty a lot more. I am especailly glad that my own sons will not have to wait until I am in my casket to hug me or to say I love you. We all have Ed to thank for that priceless gift.
Now that you know how important Ed has been to me, you might understand why a fishing trip with him means so much to me. On the other hand, if you knew how many times Ed and I went fishing together you might wonder why one particular trip can be more important than all the others.
In my next post, I will tell you all about that very special day.
If you are joining me for the first time, I am in the midst of a mini-series regarding the sale of a condominium that Patty and I own in California. The previous post was about Patty’s favorite memory after a fantastic 12-year run. This entry is about my favorite memory. It involves the time Ed and I went tuna fishing, out of San Diego.
Before I tell you about the trip itself, a little back ground information is in order. Once you understand my relationship with Ed, I think you will apprecaite why the fishing trip means so much to me. I met Ed when I was 10 years old. He was almost 9. In the picture of two sockless buddies, Ed is wearing the white shirt; It looks like my pants are torn.
I was raised in a family of manly men. There was not much public affection among them, especially man to man. I remember saying when I was a kid "boys don’t hug boys". I don’t know who planted that idea in my mind, but it illustrates the silly barriers that the men in my family kept between themselves.
Even though my father and I loved each other, the only time I remember hugging him was when he was in his casket after suffering a fatal heart attack at age 61. Before that, neither of us ever said I love you to each other. We kind of hinted around at it. We would say things like "We love you guys" In my case, "We" meant Patty and me, and "you guys" meant my dad and my step mother, Bridget. Somehow, dragging the girls into it and making it into "gang love" made all that lovey dovey talk easier to deal with.
Ed’s family was the opposite. They were Italian and very animated. The men hugged everybody including each other. At their family functions they would hug when they entered the room for the first time. After that they would get a glass of wine and start arguing. Wild hand gestures were the norm. They bonded by getting loud and calling each other names. When it was time to go home they would all hug again because the bond mattered more than anything else. They seemed to have their own priorities ln proper order.
When Ed and I grew up together we never did resort to that huggy/kissy/affection stuff but one day, when we were in our 40's, Ed broke the ice. We had just come home from another fishing trip and as he got out of my truck, when I dropped him off at his home, he said, "I love you, man." Even though we had shared several decades, he caught me off guard. I did indeed love him too, but "Boys don’t hug boys" you know, let alone say those 3 particular words that are reserved for the women folk. I couldn’t bring myself to return the verbal affection. I think I grunted something affirmative like, "uh huh." But Ed was not deterred.
Thereafter, Ed stuck with it. He concluded each new meeting and every phone call the same way, "I love you". Before long it just came out. I said it too. It was natural after all. From that moment on, I was Italian, or at least it seemed like it. Ed was like a very dear brother to me. I loved him and I no longer cared who heard me say it. We shared lots of hugs and lots of I love yous after that.
My loving Italian brother taught me that boys do hug boys after all! Affection is normal and so is showing it and saying it. Now I am a chronic hugger. I even hug Patty a lot more. I am especailly glad that my own sons will not have to wait until I am in my casket to hug me or to say I love you. We all have Ed to thank for that priceless gift.
Now that you know how important Ed has been to me, you might understand why a fishing trip with him means so much to me. On the other hand, if you knew how many times Ed and I went fishing together you might wonder why one particular trip can be more important than all the others.
In my next post, I will tell you all about that very special day.
1 comment:
Some people make such a powerful impact on our lives that it changes us forever. We had a great family but there have been many other people whose presence in my life has shaped me. My best friend's mom was one of those people for me. I will see her while in Denver and I can't wait.
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