I've been wearing one of Greg's old sweatshirts lately. We're coming up on the one year anniversary (Thanksgiving) of his sudden illness. I think there is a special ritual in Zimbabwe (I spend lots of time learning music from zimbabweans) where the family comes together to release (or something of the sort) the spirit of the newly passed so that he/she may join the ancestral spirits. Just thinking about you Greg, we had a nice final month together.
To Uncle Don, Cousins Rick, Karen, Susie and families--On behalf of myself and my family, I'd like to extend our condolences. We will be thinking of you and remembering Greg.
I love this story, Brianne! I wasn't there at Tahoe, but know that often we parents indoors are oblivious to something wonderful happening with kids outside -- so it's great to read this.
Greg never really seemed like one of the 'mean grown ups' to me. He was always the one that would play with us kids and never grew tired of our jokes (most of which were directed at him). As young kids, Greg was often the highlight of our family get-togethers because, if you asked nicely, he would share his Cheetos puffs with you, and watch us play outside.
When the family gathered at Lake Tahoe, one of my favorite memories, all of the cousins were playing in the snow. And with Greg's help we built a snowman with a dog bowl as a hat. Later during that trip, Greg took all the kids climbing on the rocks on the shore, an adventure that I'll never forget. That's how I'd like to remember my uncle; outdoors, laughing, hanging out and playing with the kids. Uncle Greg will definitely be missed by many.
I am so grateful that within the past couple of years, an opportunity arose to have Greg with me on a fishing trip to Pyramid Lake near Reno; Don was with us as well.
We fish from the shore on short ladders which enable us to get out from the sandy beach to the area where the water depth drops off. This was a new experience for Greg, and one objective I had was to introduce him to a unique manner of fishing where he could go annually and "know the ropes" if he wished.
The fishing was slow, but he finally tied into a nice Cutthroat, got off his ladder and began walking it into shore for easier landing. He got about 15 feet from shore and holding the rod high with the fish running back and forth on the end of his line, Greg fell in, cold water rushing up into his waders. He struggled up, still holding the running fish high and it appeared to be nice sized. He slipped and fell down in again as he labored toward shore. His clothes under the waders were soaking cold wet by then and he was not at all comfortable.
Don and I were ashore near the truck and the event struck me as so funny I was laughing and yelling for Don to go get the camera. Greg was of course a bit out of sorts and shouting some language not fit for gentlemen such as Don and me. The fish finally got off the lure and Greg made it the remaining few feet to the beach.
I think at my suggestion an extra set of clothes had been brought along as this is not an unusual thing to happen with this type of fishing. My recollection is that we called it a day and went back to the Atlantis where we had our room and settled for a bit of gaming before returning home.
I will sadly miss the opportunity to do this all with Greg again, as one thing we had in common was the enjoyment of fishing. He was good company always with a positive attitude about the potential for successful results. Yes, I will surely miss him.
Yep -- add to the little critter list the buckets of polly wogs he hauled to the Maple Ave home from whatever creek ran through the golf course... Those polly wogs remained until all had turned into baby frogs, at which point, maybe he returned them to the river?? I remember those jack rabbits, they were cute, helpless, and most certainly would have grown up to eat Dad's grapes.
From my earliest memories of Greg, he was the pokey little puppy - when I was a first-grader and he was in kindergarden, I walked him to school every day - we were almost always late because he stopped to poke at every little bug and pick up every little rock he came upon. He almost always had a bucket or field box with some critter or another that he had found and wanted to keep. Once he brought a field box up from the vineyard, that had baby jackrabbits in it - Dad put the kabosh on those...the other time he brought up baby rattle snakes that he had found at the base of a grapevine - Mom screamed, which had the same effect as Dad's kabosh! Being a lover of small critters made him a natural favorite with his nieces and nephews.
Light a Candle
Comments
Greg never really seemed like one of the 'mean grown ups' to me. He was always the one that would play with us kids and never grew tired of our jokes (most of which were directed at him). As young kids, Greg was often the highlight of our family get-togethers because, if you asked nicely, he would share his Cheetos puffs with you, and watch us play outside.
When the family gathered at Lake Tahoe, one of my favorite memories, all of the cousins were playing in the snow. And with Greg's help we built a snowman with a dog bowl as a hat. Later during that trip, Greg took all the kids climbing on the rocks on the shore, an adventure that I'll never forget. That's how I'd like to remember my uncle; outdoors, laughing, hanging out and playing with the kids. Uncle Greg will definitely be missed by many.
I am so grateful that within the past couple of years, an opportunity arose to have Greg with me on a fishing trip to Pyramid Lake near Reno; Don was with us as well.
We fish from the shore on short ladders which enable us to get out from the sandy beach to the area where the water depth drops off. This was a new experience for Greg, and one objective I had was to introduce him to a unique manner of fishing where he could go annually and "know the ropes" if he wished.
The fishing was slow, but he finally tied into a nice Cutthroat, got off his ladder and began walking it into shore for easier landing. He got about 15 feet from shore and holding the rod high with the fish running back and forth on the end of his line, Greg fell in, cold water rushing up into his waders. He struggled up, still holding the running fish high and it appeared to be nice sized. He slipped and fell down in again as he labored toward shore. His clothes under the waders were soaking cold wet by then and he was not at all comfortable.
Don and I were ashore near the truck and the event struck me as so funny I was laughing and yelling for Don to go get the camera. Greg was of course a bit out of sorts and shouting some language not fit for gentlemen such as Don and me. The fish finally got off the lure and Greg made it the remaining few feet to the beach.
I think at my suggestion an extra set of clothes had been brought along as this is not an unusual thing to happen with this type of fishing. My recollection is that we called it a day and went back to the Atlantis where we had our room and settled for a bit of gaming before returning home.
I will sadly miss the opportunity to do this all with Greg again, as one thing we had in common was the enjoyment of fishing. He was good company always with a positive attitude about the potential for successful results. Yes, I will surely miss him.
Uncle Chuck