Monday, July 31, 2017

Rest in Peace: Andrew Puglise

Annamaria in mourning



My older brother passed away this past Friday evening.  Here is his official obituary:

Born in Paterson, New Jersey, 20th November 1939 to Samuel F. Puglise and Anna Maria Pisacane Puglise, Andrew Puglise was educated at Our Lady of Lourdes School and Don Bosco Technology Academy.  After high school, he served for six years as a paratrooper in the U.S. Marine Corps, including a tour of duty in Japan aboard the U.S. aircraft carrier Coral Sea.  An early expert in computer technology in the business sector, he was an independent management consultant to clients such as Fidelity Investments, where he installed their first applications of mobile technology.  In Nashville, he consulted with Avo Aerostructures, the Rogers Group, and Service Merchandise, where he became the corporate CIO.

He was an enthusiast of trout fishing and golf, a passionate music lover, and a car aficionado.

He is survived by his beloved wife, Patricia Ball, his son Michael Puglise, daughter Linda Elizabeth Little, dear daughter-friend Robin Banner and her wife Diane Dunn; grandchildren—Christan Odum, Chelan Branham, Austin and Annamarie Puglise; great-grandson Riley Sweat; sister Patricia King and brother-in-law David Clark,  brother Paul Puglise and sister-in-law Kathleen Puglise, brother Mark Puglise, and several nieces and nephews, his sister-in-law Kay Hillyard and her husband Rick.

 

There is of course much, much more to his story than that.  I have been thinking of our early, early days.


Just sixteen months apart, we were raised as a two-kid unit.  “Andy and Patti, wash your hands and come to the table.”  “Andy and Patti, finish your oatmeal.  It’s time to leave for school.”  “Andy and Patti, brush your teeth.  It’s bedtime.”

When I was five and he was six, he took to cutting pictures of snakes out of National Geographic and hanging them over his bed in the room we shared.  I got nightmares.

On the other hand, my treasured wanderlust developed when we two lay on our tummies on the living room floor, turning the pages of the atlas and fantasizing about those faraway places with the strange-sounding names.  His curiosity about them evaporated once he developed his passion for golf.  Mine persists, and I would not have it if it weren’t for him.

We grew up in that lovely bygone era when kids played outside, largely unsupervised.  We swarmed through the neighborhood in packs, jumping backyard fences and stealing under-ripe fruit from other people’s trees, getting many tummy aches and spankings in the process.


On many a Sunday, we went for a ride out in the country in the family’s early-model Ford jalopy.  Our destination was the Dairy Barn—where a farmer had turned his roadside building into a place to get ice cream.  I savored my scoop of chocolate. Andy ate his cone fast and then, with the tippy end of it, stole some of mine.  One Sunday, the following exchanges took place in the car:

(On the way out of town.)

Me:  Mommy, Mommy, Andy is pulling my hair.

Mom:  Stop that.  Sit down and be quiet.

(On the way home.)

Me: Mommy, Mommy, Andy is stealing my ice cream.

Mom: Stop that.  Sit down and be quiet.

(Nearly home, as daddy slowly turns the corner onto our street, Andy leans on the door handle with his elbow.  The door swings open and Andy gently rolls out of the car.)

Me:  Mommy, Mommy, Andy fell out of the car.

Mom: Stop that. Sit down and be quiet.


Our greatest caper took place after our grandfather had died and our grandmother moved in with us.  Each evening before going to bed, Andy and I stood side by side at the bathroom sink, brushing our teeth.  Once grandma moved in, at night she left her false teeth on the shelf under the mirror in a glass of water.  They grossed us out.

When, at the age of six, I lost my front tooth, the tooth fairy left me a nickel.  That evening Andy and I thought what to do.  Neither of us wanted to fish the dentures out of the water with our fingers.  He dumped the glass in the sink.  I took a washcloth from the bathroom closet, picked up the teeth, and hid them in the back of a closet shelf.  We refilled the glass and dropped in the nickel, brushed our teeth, and went to bed.

Shouting awakened us the next morning.  Grandma was running around the apartment, with one hand masking her empty gums, exclaiming, “Where are my teeth?  Where are my teeth?”

It did not take long for mommy and daddy to burst into our room.  “Where did you put them?” Mommy demanded.

“The tooth fairy must have taken them?” we peeped, tentatively.  Our formidable grandmother glared at us over mommy’s shoulder—most seriously displeased.  We fessed up and took our punishment: no dessert for the next three days.

Looking back, I can now imagine our parents’ laughter once they were alone.

We didn't just look like The Little Rascals, we
were the little rascals.
   
And so it went.

And so it goes.  Those precious moments of our childhood that are coming to me now that he is gone.

He died far too soon.  It’s hard for me to imagine that this is the same planet without him on it.  But his death was beautiful.  He breathed his last with us holding hands in a circle—two holding hands with him.  His last days had kept us together long enough to forgive one another our sins.

I am writing this the next day.  This morning, of the 745 songs on my iPad, this below was the first one the shuffle played for me.



I listened to Dylan’s words and thought of Andy and how lucky I was to be with him when we were kids and how glad that, if this tragedy had to happen, at least I was with him when the deal went down.

A bottle of champagne for the first person who writes a
comment identifying what Andy is holding in his hands.

Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,

Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel.

26 comments:

  1. I don't need the champagne, but it looks a lot like the Claret Jug from the PGA Open Championship at Royal Troon, Scotland.

    Very sorry for your loss, AmA. Such a trite saying, and so true.

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    1. EvKa, thank you for your comforting words. Your answer earns you partial credit: 1.5 glasses of champagne.

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  2. May he rest in peace, Cara. Of course, EvK is correct about what the trophy is, BUT definitely not the PGA Open.

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    1. Thank you, Stan. for your kind words and for weighing as referee in the champagne contest. Two glasses to you.

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  3. I am so sorry for your loss and I will keep him and your whole family in my prayers. I feel I know you and your fellow bloggers as its one of the first things I do when I get to work. I hope you can take comfort from the wonderful memories you and he shared. Our siblings are the only ones who will have known us all our lives and it is very hard to lose them; they are all very precious. Laura


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  4. No need for champagne here either. Correct on the Claret Jug and that it was contested that year at Royal Troon. However, the tournament is The Open Championships or, as we Americans call it, the British Open. It is the 3rd leg of the Grand Slam (Masters, US Open, British Open, PGA). The year was 2004. Todd Hamilton was the winner and he lived near Andy in Texas. Todd went to play at Andy's club and brought the Jug with him for the members to see. Andy couldn't resist the chance to take the picture.

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    1. PJ, thank you for filling in the details, my brother.

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  5. Laura, you understand so well. He was the only one who shared those memories with me. I guess that why I needed to write them down. Thank you so much for your kind words.

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  6. Barbara just pointed out to me that the comment I'd written right after EvKa's had not posted :(. I'd said it was my honor to be your spiritual brother, but in terms of what's shaped your indomitable spirit I must yield the floor to the Puglise boys...and the fine job they did in raising you. I wish I'd had the opportunity of meeting Andy, but your tribute and the thoughts of your family make him come alive, and it's those memories they will keep him that way in the hearts of all who knew and loved him. God rest his soul and bless all of his Family. Much love, Sis.

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    1. I'm going to need you more than ever to be my "big brother." In actuality, Andy contributed the most to my growing up. For the other two, I was the assistant mother. Andy had the love of many friends, and that has been such a comfort to meet them and hear their glowing words about him. Message to Barbara: I return to NYC tomorrow. Please call me when you arrive.

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  7. Loosing a sibling is very difficult..... and for a sister to loose a brother is a hard loss. Michael and I were not close when he died, but we were when we were younger. He never came out of the coma he went into the week before he died, but we also "forgave each other of our sins" before he left for heaven. It is with that peace I can "talk" to him on my morning commutes; I hope you have similar conversations with Andy (as I knew you brother). My dad also sends his love and condolences. {{{HUGS}}}, Judi

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    1. My dearest goddaughter, thank you for your words. I know you lost your brother far far too young. And I am happy to know you have found peace with that. Please give Joe big love and hugs from me.

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  8. Such wonderful memories, Patricia. Thanks for sharing them.

    Your story of the car journey reminded me of long ago when our friends' children were young at Ingwelala. You know the bungalow. The boys had been sent for an afternoon nap and complained they were not tired and so on and on. Eventually their mother warned them that one more peep out of them and they would be in big trouble. A few minutes later the younger boy called out: 'Ma, there's a snake on the ceiling.' Furious with them now, their mother went in to give them a strong dressing down. Moments later the bungalow was shaking with her screams!

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    1. Thank you, Michael for the other mother story. Knowing the place I can picture it vividly.

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  9. You wrote so beautifully of your friendship with your brother. What a gift to grow up together. Thank you for sharing his memory in your time of loss.

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  10. Sujata, I spoke in my eulogy of him as a gift giver. He was brave, and he engendered in me my sense of adventure. What better gift could I have gotten?

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  11. My thoughts are with you and your family. Andy was a dental patient of mine for many years. ( I helped give him that beautiful smile) He always told me he didn't need pretty teeth with a face like his but I think he quit liked his smile when we were all done . He was one of my favorite patients, always a story to tell or a book to share. He olds a piece of my heart and will be truly missed. Always, Mona Brezina

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    1. Dr. Brezina, thank you for your kind words. Stories to tell and books to share are what my brothers and I are all about. I was lucky to grow up that way with Andy.

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  12. Just arrived home from our trip to Tn.to bid my dear cousin a last farewell off this mortal coil.Sooo glad to have been included in the family's celebration of his life.I have so many fond memories of my cousin Andy that it would take volumes to recount. Andy was like my little brother ( I was born 5 months before him) and when my parents moved us to north Jersey the first thing he did was to get me to join Our Lady of Lourdes drum and bugle corps. Even though I couldn't play a note ,He said "just hold the horn to your lips and pretend you're playing" no one will know.And so I did. We both went into the Marine Corps. aound the same time and we raised our children together and played golf together in the early years.I visited Andy and Pat when they lived in Plano and we played several rounds of golf and just before he went into the hospital this last time we were on the phone discussing plans for a reciprocal trip to my home in NC..My cousin Andy was a kind,generous and beautiful man and I know I'm not alone in saying I will miss him terribly.But he left a legacy in his children and his grandchildren and his spirit will always be with us..Rest in peace my friend...

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    1. Thanks for your words, Tunny. You are the Patriarch now. Please stay in touch. Love to you and Irene.

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  13. So sorry that you lost your brother, but thank you for sharing those wonderful memories. You two must have had quite a childhood running all around and having fun.

    And you have your sense of adventure as a legacy to him.

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    1. Thank you, Kathy. Like all families, we've had our ups and downs, but Andy and I learned how to have fun together when we were children. And that talent never deserted us. I appreciate your kind words so much.

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  14. That was a beautiful tribute to your brother and I can see you both cheering each other on. May he rest in peace.

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    1. Thank you so much, Dru. Having someone to cheer you on is such a blessing. I feel the loss of my brother in that way. The comfort of friends has been so important to me please. Thank you so much for yours.

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  15. While it conceivably could be a golf trophy or the like, I believe it is actually "The Patricia Puglise Trophy for The Best Brother a Kid Sister Could Have."

    Peter Leavy

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    1. What a lovely thought, Peter. Andy deserved a big shiny trophy for many of the roles he played. Thank you for your kind words.

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