Saturday, August 10, 2019
Cousin Richie,you only saw me once in the last 57 years of your life on earth,at Uncle Johnnies in early September of 1993.But I was a big part of your childhood, especially at family gatherings.In the Summer of 1956 you began your fishing career basically as a sucker fisherman, using dough balls and corn meal as bait.You bragged about the big suckers you were catching,while I was just catching little sunfish and minnies.I even saw some of them.They had an odd human shape, and seemed to grow larger as you told your fishing stories.As a hunter, you proudly displayed a mounted squirrel in your father's living room in Orchard Ave Hopewell for many years as your most prized big game trophy.At that same time I was catching stray cats, turtles, frogs, and salamanders with my bare hands and trying to raise them alive at home.They were my pets.You had a beagle hound at that time that I used to greet by singing Elvis Presley's hit song.You are gone,now but never forgotten.When I see you in the afterlife I know you won't hang up the phone on me like you did in September of 1995.
