Sunday, March 25, 2007
A consummate gentleman, lover of the women of the world and friend to many, Cav Trambler merged with the infinite on (date). He was prededed into death by his beloved Corgi, Melanie. Melanie went lookin' for a bone in Death's Cave, and she ain't come back yet! Ha ha!
Survived by his mother Elveena ("Mommy") and father Cavendish ("Two") II, we are all the more at a loss due to his passing. He loved good food (and hated bad! Ha ha!), good women and alcohol of all kinds. As a Kara-oke Jockey and Open Mike performer, he warmed the hearts of many crowds here in the Tri-County area. He preferred the Classics.
"The apples of the valley hold the seeds of happiness
the ground is rich from tender care
repay, do not forget; no no..."
-from "The Battle of Evermore", Led Zeppelin
Even as his ungrateful brothers and sisters were selfishly hogging all the family business and moneys (sp?), Cav spent a lot of his time being a loving son to his "Mommy", and often accompanies her to church. A proud son to his father, and a son his father no doubt is proud of, he love(d) life, and often asked no more than he was rightfully to be given.
As a happy young boy, he played often with neighbors and toys. All the adults were happy as pie to watch young Cav walking down the street, knowing full well that the pets would be treated with honest respect, and that tantrums weren't to be thrown. That is, unless he was treated unfairly, which of course sometimes would happen, since these are your average people we are talking about here.
Adult Cav roamed far and wide, devoting himself to Service (Comic Relief[tm]), and the helping of Others. One time, he gave this guy a whole pack of cigarettes who had lost his foot in Viet Nam. On another, this one time this lady with a whole car full of grandkids who had lost her food stamps card needed a ride fifteen miles (!) to the next town, and laughingly turned down the "favors" he was offered at that time. See what I mean? He just loved people!
After a long battle with (alcoholism and addiction to perfectly legal pharmaceuticals-Adm. Wheeler), he gladly and faithfully entered a realm where his art was of no consequence. God awaited His faithful son, Cav, and set aside a pretty place for him at the table, no doubt.
On March 23, 2007, Sandy Quinto passed into the arms of the Lord, at age 77, finally escaping from all the pain and harsh disappointments that her life held.
More commonly known as Mrs. Benjamin Quinto,
Benjamin Quinto, husband, survives his wife.
Services will be held at
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
For many years we'd been pulling for Steve, due to his obvious malfunctions, and knowing well that God had a plan for Steve. It turns out what God actually had planned was now cruelly unclear.
"Steve" was born on the same day he passed, in 1968. The Days of Rage, and protest, assassinations and the like, largely unaffected the toddler, who spent his days playing around with his action figurines of The Monkees. His first words were "Monkee!", and we all laughed and were proud.
He attended Steve Martin (not affiliated with the popular movie star and comedian) high school, where he met his best friend (and worst bad influence), Guillermo "Steve" Reyes, a bad seed if we ever saw one. He introduced Steve to 'dope', and the two spent many hours sketching "album covers" on their notebooks. One of his best, a graphic rendering of a rather busty young woman in chain mail with her arms suggestively clasped around the neck of a large serpent, hangs in his grandmother's living room to this day, framed and signed, "Love you G-Ma! I'm gonna make you proud!" We've often asked her to take the d___ thing down, but she won't listen.
After his primary education, he elected to not attend any secondary. He worked in some d___ store somewhere, selling something I guess, and generally disappointed all of us. I met one of his "girlfriends" one time, and that "Tami" didn't impress me at all. She kept falling to sleep at the dinner table. The one thing she had to say to us was that Steve was "really, really cool", which caused this guy here, anyway, to snort.
Anyway, we kept talking to Steve about his interests, and reminded him that God was watching. That didn't seem to cut any ice with him. He kept talking about how we were all fooling ourselves with that stuff, and how maybe we ought to get out a little more. Well Steve, what do you think now, that your probably in H___? Maybe you should've "got out" and went to some d___ church every now and again, and spent a little less time doing batik or whatever it was people like you do.
Love's a funny thing, and it ain't for free. His sister Lissa (who he is survived by) always said things like, "but he's your son!", like that meant anything. No Lissa, my son is named Loyalty, and I haven't seen that kid since he started hanging out with M____cans.
Memorial services to be held at Steve's Place (Tavern) on Long Road. We ask that you please bring a covered dish and please no more g_______ed phone calls to our house.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Lifelong Shell Rock resident, enthusiastic Irishwoman, and ardent devotee to the Cause, Laura Jean "Bitsy" Hooker, 96, passed away early Sunday after a long, ultimately unsuccessful battle against pyelonephritis.
Bitsy graduated from Shell Rock High School in 1928 and was set to marry her sweetheart, Rodney Zombrowski, until he was killed in the Black Tuesday stock market crash. During World War II, Bitsy and her sisters formed the regionally popular girl singing group The Hooker Triplets, in an effort to buoy the soldiers' spirits, as well as educate their fellow Shell Rockers on the importance of not wearing hosiery ("Make-Believe Stockings") and forgoing meat ("Boogie Woogie Tuna Boy"). But after the Armistice, rural Iowans largely forgot about this one-time singing sensation, leaving Bitsy's sisters to wed and Bitsy to focus on her chosen career in library etiquette.
The next stage of Bitsy's life was filled largely with watching birds from her childhood bedroom (which remained her home until the day she passed), shopping at Discount Heaven Mall Barn, writing long letters to her far-flung nieces and nephews, and collecting. Over the years, Bitsy forged friendships with many patient library-goers who appeared to share her interests in bits of paper, old boxes, string, scribble, reminiscing, fearing change, talking about the old times, looking outside, and, in later years, bridge.
Bitsy is survived by her sister Ruby Eldridge, nieces Jennifer Baeret, Deborah Lilley, and Theresa Seebrusker, and nephews Allen Eldridge, Irvin Lancaster, and Oliver Lancaster. We'll miss you, Aunty!
A memorial service will be held next weekend at the Hobby Shack, on Larkspur Road in between Kitty! A Place for Cats and the Old Meatball Mill. Friends are encouraged to bring remembrances and share stories of Bitsy. Punch and cookies will be made available after.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
"Charlie" was born on January 29th,1922 in Western Park, Illinois. He lived a happy life of a small boy with grandparents and uncles. As a child, he was sickly, and almost perished many times of diseases and complaints of the day. Thank The Lord that He spared Our Charlie for the good things to come to us all!
When The War broke out, "Charlie" signed up to be a mid-shipman, second class. Since most of his ship-mates could not pronounce his name, they called him "Romanian Charlie", a name which stuck! His own children called him Charlie, as "Father" seemed too familiar, besides which he disapproved of.
After The War, he started his own business (mattresses) and wooed his high-school sweetheart/tutor, Marjean Jenks of Western Park. They were married in The Chapel of the Chimes, with words of love from Pasztor Rzjkka of the Eastern Orthodox faith.
He is survived by loving son Chuck Junior, daughter-in-law Lupina of Cherry Oaks (divorced), daughters Barbra (Kettleson) of Misty Acres and Oletta (Farnsworth-al-Hajjii) of U.A.E., and grandsons Tyler, Dylan, Joshua, Emir and Ali.
Charlie is best remembered for his no-nonsense attitude: "Get the lead out!" was something he often could be heard saying loudly to the children around the house, and of the neighborhood. The kids remember "Romanian Charlie" as a loving taskmaster, who spoke of almost nothing but their need to join team sports and defeat 'our enemies', the kids from Eastern Park.
Interests he shared with his family and friends were golfing, philately and 'going to town'. His love of potluck buffets warmed the hearts of many. The automobiles he shared and loved with his grandsons.
He is less remembered for how he touched me one time when he thought no one was looking, and his unrelentingly cruel ways in dealing with the very young. Whenever we said anything about it, he'd lapse back into Rumanian and we knew that discussion time was over. He described himself proudly as "the bane of my children's existence", and so did we.
His long-suffering wife Marjean preceded him to the grave in 1972, after a long, strange illness.
Memorial thoughts and notions are directed to be thrown out to sea, regardless of what they are. We cremated him.