MY BROTHER

This is a tribute to my brother.

MY BROTHER

My brother died on August 23, 2003. At his gravesite, I gave the following eulogy:

“I loved my brother dearly. It is an honor to have this opportunity to share with you some of my fond recollections of him. He was the cornerstone upon which my life was built.

During his lifetime, he played many roles. He was a loving son of James and Bridget Finnerty, a brother to Helen and Joe, husband of Virginia Mooney, father of Sharon and James, and grandfather of Patricia, John and Stacie Wynne, James (JB) and Connor Finnerty, uncle, nephew, cousin, godfather, and friend to many.

Born in New York City on January 18, 1914, he grew up in Hoboken. He began his married life in Hackensack before settling down for good in Danbury. I was his best man when he married, and he was mine when I wed.

Jim was a student at Our Lady of Grace grade school and St. Peter’s Preparatory School. His academic training culminated when he graduated from St. Peter’s College in 1936.

He served in the U.S. Army from 1942 until 1946, attaining the rank of Staff Sergeant at the time of his honorable discharge.

After the war, he tried his hand at many jobs and occupations, but was most successful as a salesman. His smile and warm personality suited him for this endeavor.

Jim played the piano, sang in a tenor voice, and danced like Fred Astaire. He could dance on ice skates perhaps better than Fred could.

He was an avid reader and always had his nose in a book. He was philosophical by nature, questioning everything.

Jim was 13-1/2 years my senior. He decided early in life to take on the role of being my mentor, teacher and best friend. He taught me how to swim and dive, how to ride a bike, and how to box. He took me to all the major attractions in New York City, including the aquarium, the planetarium, many museums, and to see the Ringling Circus, a Wild West Rodeo, and the grand opening of Snow White at the RCA Music Hall.

He quizzed my knowledge of catechism, and persuaded my parents to send me to public high school in hopes that I might win a scholarship to attend Stevens Institute of Technology. Due to his personal effort, Stevens awarded me a partial one. He paid the difference between it and the total tuition.

We did not see each other often after I moved west in 1954, first to California, later to Arizona. Jim visited me in Scottsdale once. My visits east were rare. This never diminished my love and affection for him. He wrote many letters to me, which I treasure. I phoned him almost every week for the last ten years of his life, and relished our conversations.

   I could never thank him enough for being such a wonderful person to me. Yes, he was a curmudgeon and yes, he had frailties and many human faults that angered and frustrated me, but I always returned him to his accustomed spot in my heart. There he will remain a holy, innocent, naïve, endearing and precious man.

He played the cards of his life as best he could. He died peacefully but not without putting up a superhuman fight. God kept calling him, but Jim was negotiating for a better deal. My guess is that is at right hand of the Father, no more than two seats away, enjoying the view and relishing the words:

“Come in dear son, a life well done. Arise, dear James, my precious one.”

Good night, sweet Prince.

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