Funny Guy Friday... Rest in peace, Mrs. Smith...

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
     On our third day of vacationing in Hawaii, I received a text message from my best friend, PJ, advising that his mother was not doing well and that the end was near. This was followed up by a text a day later advising that she had passed away.
     Obviously, the news was upsetting, but her health had been failing and her passing was not so surprising. Mrs. Smith left behind nine children, the youngest of which, I spent nearly every day of my childhood with. As a result, I spent much of my childhood at the Smith house. In fact, when I received the text, I was concerned that I would not make it back in time to attend her funeral in Florida. PJ said he would understand if I could not make it and I should not worry about it.
     I told him that I had to make it because, beside my mother, she made me more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches than any other human being! 
     Fortunately, I was able to make it Florida along with two other friends.
     One of them knew PJ very well, but had never met his family. I was telling her that we grew up across the street from each other and I spent part of nearly every day at the Smith house. She asked me if the Smith children had been nice to me. This brought a smile to my face. I wanted to say yes, but I couldn't.
     In fact, to be honest, there were times when they scared me. I wouldn't jump right to the word nice, unless comments like... Are you here again! Do you have a home? Are you still here? Hey Moo Moo (my stupid nickname that only my brothers and the Smiths ever used) GO HOME! 
    They didn't really mean it... at least I think that they didn't mean it. I am pretty sure they didn't mean it. Tough love. That's what it was... tough love.
     In fact, tough is a pretty good word to describe all of the kids. Barry, one of the brothers, gave a eulogy, and he talked about the games we played as kids. And as he started to describe the games, I smiled and mouthed the words Get Tough! 
     I think the Smiths invented the game of Get Tough! If they didn't invent it, they perfected it.
     Get Tough was a football game of sorts. One guy had the ball on offense and the ball was placed near the goal line. Every other kid was on defense!
     Once the offensive guy moved the ball, the other defensive players tackled him, beat him, pounded him, crushed every fiber of his being! The dude had to Get Tough!
     Occasionally, the games would lead to tears. But Barry noted that his mother rarely reacted. He was wrong about that... she never reacted. I never saw her lose her cool. I never saw her yell. I never saw her upset or irritated.
     Personally, one of my most vivid memories of Mrs. Smith has her sitting in a chair reading a book and occasionally looking up to find PJ crying as one of his brothers was swinging him around by head. She would calmly call out... Kerry, Barry, Terry, Timmy, Mike (it could have been any one of them and occasionally two of them) put your brother down!
     Barry commented that often times, other mothers might call the Smith home to complain that their child was sent home from a day with the Smiths in tears. The call typically would end with Mrs. Smith telling the other mother... in a very kind voice... Maybe your child shouldn't play with my kids. 
    Even the girls were tough; although, I have to admit, I remember them being bigger than they really are. Perhaps it was just their personas. I was a bit shocked when I saw them at the funeral... they are tiny little things.
     I am sure they were bigger when I was a kid!
     I was also asked if any of my siblings were good friends with PJ's siblings. Initially, I said not really but then I started to think about it. Almost all six of the Palumbo children were within one year of at least one of the Smith children... and sometimes a Palumbo fell right between two Smiths. And every one of his brothers and sisters asked about my siblings.
     When I first saw PJ's sister Sandy outside of the church, she held out her arms and went to greet me by calling me by my brother's name. Joey! she started, but quickly realized I was the much younger more handsome brother and the Joey was quickly changed to Moo Moo! God you look like Joey! 
     I don't think that any of them were as close as PJ and I, but their lives were always intertwined with ours. Of course, PJ and I were both the youngest in our families, so we may have missed a great friendship or two along the way.
     After the funeral, we went to lunch where we viewed a slide show. A very small part of that slide show was pictures of my mother and father. My mother took great glee when I called and reported that she made the cut... not once, but three times. Heck, I was over their house all the time and I only got in there once!
     We ended the evening over to PJ's sister Shelia's home. I then had more of an opportunity to visit with all of PJ's siblings. Each appreciated that I was able to make it to the funeral, and each thanked me for being there. Quite a contrast to Hey Moo Moo... GO HOME.
     There had been no question that I was going to attend.
     In fact, I should have thanked them.
     I should have thanked them for the hundreds of meals that I ate at their house, for the number of sleepovers that I spent in their home, or for the thousands of times I was allowed to hang out in their home. I mean, where else was I going to see PJ getting swung around by the head. I should have thanked them for all of that but I only thanked them for the great hospitality that they showed throughout the weekend.
     I have always believed that the greatest legacy that a person leaves is their children. Mr. Smith, who passed away several years ago, and Mrs. Smith have quite a legacy. Every one of their children has been successful in their professional lives, and they have all produced beautiful, smart Smith grandchildren... kids that are more than capable of carrying on a decent conversation with some guy who grew up with their uncle and that they either just met or met a time or two when they were younger.
    Mrs. Smith, I am sure, was proud of each and every one of her kids... even if they occasionally scared Moo Moo!
     May she rest in peace!