Dad's Gaming Addiction

I didn’t know him as John.  I didn’t know him as Jack, as he preferred to be called.  I knew him as “Pap”…always have, always will.  I said goodbye to my other grandfather in 2012 (Victor) and it’s with regret that I have to say goodbye again now.

I’ve been a bit remiss.  Both of my grandmothers have passed as well and yet I didn’t see fit to write about them at the time…most likely because I’m a bit of a recluse when it comes to sharing my feelings.  No one typically knows what I’m feeling and oddly enough I prefer it that way.

Not tonight.  With the recent passing of Tara (one of my ferrets) and the realization that the other four fur-kids are not far behind (they are all in their old age), I’ve been thinking a lot lately about life, death, and what this whole thing means.  Is there a life after death?  I can’t be the only one to do the kind of self-reflecting that I’m doing right now…perhaps that’s why Religion is so comforting to some people.

I’ve always believed that all we have is what we know.

To that end, this is what I know about “Pap.”

He worked hard.  He was a patient man.  I can only remember one time to where I cheesed him off royally to the point where he verbally lashed out…but trust me, I deserved it.  My spoiled little brat pre-teen self didn’t know any better back then.  He was passionate about his dogs…at least, the ones I remember: Tuffy, Spunky, and Skippy.  The latter was Aunt Karen’s dog, if I remember correctly, and was the most temperamental of the bunch.  Spunky was the most chill and Tuffy…well, he had spunk for lack of better term.  Ironic.

He liked Jazz.  Like, a lot.  He’d play it on the television constantly.  Pre-teen me hated it at the time.  That said, part of me wishes I could go back in time to that porch-patio and eat grandma’s spaghetti and meatballs like we always would every Sunday afternoon.  It wasn’t a meal unless the plate was covered in freshly grated parmesan cheese.  The Paone men (Great Grandpa “Ernie”, “Pap”, and my Dad) would then proceed to pass out on the couches in the living room in some sort of strange Italian ritual…it was probably “carb crash” but what did I know back then?

I knew that Pap was part of some sort of club…”The Lions Club”, to which I had no idea what that meant.  “The Lion King” wasn’t a thing back then so my imagination had trouble visualizing what it is they actually did at these meetings.  We didn’t have Google back then, kids.  Come later I find out that the Lion’s Club is, and I quote, “an international non-political service organization established originally in 1917 in Chicago, Illinois” whose goal is “to Create and foster a spirit of understanding among the peoples of the world. To Promote the principles of good government and good citizenship. To Take an active interest in the civic, cultural, social and moral welfare of the community.” Good on you, Pap.

He also worked at Wyman’s Pharmacy.  I didn’t know who Wyman was nor did I question it at the time.  I remember sitting in the back, playing on my Dad’s TRS-DOS computer (text adventures, mostly) while Pap and Dad worked to fill prescriptions using an old electric pill counter and a VERY loud dot matrix printer that could shatter glass from down the street.  Pap would, on occasion, come to the back where I was to sit down and we’d talk a little…but mostly he wanted me to rub his shoulders, LOL.  Like the good grandson I was, I obliged.

There was also that one time we took him to Pitch and Putt at Scally’s Golf Course.  He didn’t swing an iron so as much as he “putted at Mach-5” with it, but he sometimes made the green in one shot.  Whether he made the green or overshot it by 300 yards, he laughed.  One can say that he did it “His Way”…”Ol’ Blue Eyes” fans will get the reference, I’m sure.

I didn’t see him much after I entered high school.  In fact, I didn’t really keep in touch with my family once I entered college.  I still don’t.  I’m not sure why, honestly.  That’s part of that whole “self-reflecting” thing.

Pap, at least, got to meet his grandson (Vinnie Jr. is now twenty and has graduated from high school) a couple of times.  I may not have yet figured out what keeps me from reaching out to family, but at the very least I can tell you in the here and now that Pap was a good man.  In today’s COVID world, it’s fortunate that he passed away peacefully in his sleep as opposed to, well…any other way.

My Great Grandfather, “Ernie” (my Pap’s Dad), used to tell so many stories.  We’d gather around the kitchen table and listen to him retell the same Mack Truck stories over and over.  He’d tell us stories of Misty, the tiny lick-monster of a dog who I loved to visit as a child, after she passed.  Looking back, I can tell now that Great Grandpa lived a fulfilling life.  Recalling my own memories of Pap, I know that he too lived a fulfilling life helping others any way he could.  They both carved out a niche for themselves in their own ways. I hope that someday I’ll be able to find the inner peace that they were able to find.  Perhaps something like that simply comes with time and experience.  Perhaps living a fulfilling life, no matter where it leads thereafter, is what truly matters.

Having just had surgery a few weeks ago and being high risk for COVID, it’s with sad regret that I more than likely won’t be at his funeral.  Still, I’ll be thinking of him.

This one’s for you, Pap.