A while ago I wrote a blog called, "The Miracle of John Leary." On February 28, 2009, John's 57 year old brother Butch collapsed at his friend's daughter's first birthday party. He had gone out to his car to get something and he fell. His friends found him on the ground. He never regained consciousness. That was John's birthday.
Butch had just spent a year and a half in and out of the the cardiac unit of the hospital. He had lost 100 pounds.He was a biker. He was pretty cool. He had John's eyes, those big blue tear drop endless eyes,but he was huge.
Emily Liu, along with her sister Erica, and brothers Christopher and Matthew were my charges for years in Honolulu. Butch was their Uncle and Emily's Godfather.
Emily was two when I started nannying her. She is now a senior in high school. She just got accepted to Northeastern and is waiting to hear from Harvard. She is obsessed with New England. She is especially obsessed with New England sports. She would come to Providence to stay with us for a couple of weeks during the Summer while she was in high school.
We would bring her to see her Uncle Butch in Connecticut.
She would stay there for a few days. I would have loved to have seen the looks that those two would get. They made quite a pair. They ate every meal out. It was hard for Uncle Butch to get around but he drove. He drove Emily to Foxoboro,Mass from Vernon,Conn so that she could go to Patriots Training Camp. He hated the Patriots with a passion. He wouldn't go into the stadium. He set up a lawn chair just outside the gates and read a book-but he got her there. Uncle Butch was a great guy. He would do everything that he could to accomodate.
Two weeks ago we went to Butch's Memorial service.
I knew it was going to be big. He was larger than life. His biker family was enormous. As we filed into church we were surrounded by (I am not kidding) hundreds of bikers. I asked Fabio if he could discreetly take a picture of the boys and me. I thought it was understood that I wanted to document the scene and not just get some random close up of the family. I didn't see the picture until after the service. I wanted to swat him. I cracked up. It really catches all the buzz around us doesn't it?
When we got into the service I saw how extended and colorful Butch's biker family was. We sat in Catholic Mass with about 200 bikers. It was a sight to behold. The church had been condemned. We met in the parish hall that had been converted into a make shift chapel.
There were two altars in the middle and lots and lots of chairs set up on either side. I dressed the boys in their fancy Indian kurtas with their fancy Nehru jackets,and jeans. I was in a black pantsuit. Fabio was in dress slacks and a dark top. We sat with Rosemary and the kids.
We sat across from the most ecclectic group that I had ever seen. There was a little girl in a bright pink hello kitty halter top with a jean skirt.Her mother, in a cleavage showing V-neck with an eagle tattoo taking up her entire chest, was sitting next to her husband. He was in his mechanics uniform. There was a beautiful gal in a red bandana and sunglasses in biker leather. All kinds of hair. Every seat was filled with a fully clad biker. One seat after another, row after row. It kind of looked like a movie set. It was amazing. I wanted to take a picture so badly but I was nervous and I wasn't sure if it would be appropriate.
Before Mass began the priest asked everyone to turn off their cell phones.EVERY SINGLE PERSON in that room- all 200 hundred of us- pulled out our phones. There were all kinds of tones and "goodbyes". It was hilarious! We all laughed. It took a minute to regain composure. It is a moment that I will never forget. Enzo wasn't feeling well. He sat on my lap for the entire service with his head on my shoulder.
In the middle of the altar sat Uncle Butch. His ashes had been placed in the gas tank of his Harley per his request. I noticed that the tank had been draped by a cloth.It wasn't until later, at the Italian American Club, did it become clear. The gas tank had been uncovered and was sitting on a table with the words "White Whore" emblazoned on the side.
We made our way to the buffet table
A really tough looking girl was standing with her tough looking boyfriend and their tough looking friends. Tough is the word. It is the look that they are going for. It just is. They look tough. As we walked by, the tough girl said, "How are you doing little guy?" to Enzo as she touched his head, "I saw your mommy feeling your forehead at church." Enzo told her that he felt better. She suggested that he drink some ginger ale, then the whole lot of them oohed and aahed over their Indian suits.
Later, the boys got their hands on a photo album that was being passed around. A sweet old lady with long yellow hair held back with a leather cap and wearing a big old Harley jacket(you can't make this stuff up) gently took it from them. "There is nothing in here for you dears."
Posts
