Friday, July 15, 2016
Thursday, June 30, 2016
2004 Verdoni Christmas Letter
‘Twas the Week before Christmas
With the Verdoni’s
By Shawn M. Verdoni
Back by popular
demand is the Verdoni Christmas Letter!
To all of you who asked, “Is everyone okay?” Let me assure you, we are as right as
rain. To those of you who wondered, “Why
didn’t they write one last year?” In this day and age where everyone is running
haggard with his or her own family activities, it is very difficult for many of
us to find the time to write a small note and mail it. I hope you understand that is how I felt this
past Christmas. Since we had already
sent a lengthy letter in the summer, I decided that I needed to cut the
Christmas letter out and use that time and energy toward other Christmas
projects I needed to take care of.
Besides, our lifestyle was running smoothly (no major humorous goofs) until the week before Christmas. Let us go back to that time . . .
The Potato and Onion Condo
One of our family
traditions in the Verdoni household is to make on gift for each family
member. The kids usually create
something at school so they get off the hook pretty easily. Rich still takes woodworking class at MATC
each semester and so he can carve out time for a project, and this year’s
project was a doozy! I, on the other
hand, do not have any extracurricular time that I have to create a family
masterpiece. I try to do so between the
hours of 9:00 and 10:00 pm during the week, when Rich is gone to work and the
kids are in bed sleeping.
Jonah made us a
bag of wonderful ornaments for the tree.
Each one had a little story to go with it and he was proud as punch to
share them with us. Erin created a
family tree book where she chronicled her life in photos and short stories in
which she must have written some of the words phonetically. Both gifts will be family treasures for years
to come.
Rich’s gift to the
family came early this month. I was
asked to pick up a pattern for a potato/onion holder, which I did. I was asked to pick out front panels (they
needed to have air flow) so I got to choose between a wire mesh panel and a pie
tin punch panel. I preferred the pie tin
punch panel that is very nice to look at.
I also was told to pick out the hardware, but I apparently didn’t pick
out the right ones. When I came home one
day, I noticed that a very heavy bag was on our kitchen counter. That bag held our new hardware, which included
brass hinges, and what looked like platinum and brass drawer pulls. I asked where my wooden drawer pulls were and
Rich replied, “I needed to pull together the contrast in colors and materials
from the brass hinges and the silver pie tin punch panels.”
Then I asked the
million-dollar question, “What did that all cost?”
Rich smiled,
patted me on the head and replied, “It isn’t the cost that matters, it is that
the project is done right!” That only
means one thing. I didn’t want to know
how much they cost.
A few days later,
I was asked to come down and see the unfinished project for another
opinion. “What do you think of a plate
rail on the top?” Rich asked.
I was puzzled,
“Why would I need a rail for the top? It
is just supposed to hold potatoes and onions.”
“Yes, but it can
do so much more if we put a failing on the top!” Rich’s eyes were now starting to
glimmer. I was getting nervous.
“No, I have
counter space for that.” Round 1 may
have gone to Rich, but I had just won Round 2.
However, the battle had just begun.
I began going up the stairs when . . .
“Where are you
going?” asked Rich.
“Back
upstairs. I thought we were
finished.” I replied, getting a bit
nervous.
“We aren’t
finished. I need you to decide on
molding,” he said with a smirk.
“Molding? This is just a container to hold potatoes and
onions. It doesn’t need molding.” I said.
“Any project
needing to be done should be done right.”
I was afraid, very afraid of what was next. I was not prepared for what was being shown
to me.
“Here it is with
molding. What do you think?”
“It looks fine
without it.”
“But does it look
better with it?”
“But it is to hold
potatoes and onions. They won’t know the
difference if they have molding on their home or not.”
“True, but does it
look better with molding or without?”
“I suppose it
looks nice to have that dark contrasting wood around the bottom of the oak top,
but it doesn’t need it. It is only
holding potatoes and onions.” I am
beginning to whimper now. I feel that my
winning streak is beginning to come to an end.
“Ha! I knew it!
It does look better with molding!
Thank you!” Said Rich the
Conqueror.
As I climbed up
the stairs with my head hung low in defeat, I quietly asked my final question,
“By the way, Rich, what kind of wood is the molding?”
“Mahogany, of
course!” And that is how the potato and
onion condo was born! If you are
interested in this prime piece of real estate, I can show you a fabulous room
with a view on the top level of this three-story masterpiece.
I should be proud
to own this beautiful piece of woodworking.
I absolutely am. In my wildest
dreams, I had never imagined owning a potato and onion condo worth (the last
time I checked on EBay) $500 per suite.
The Dyslexic Christmas Gift
As I promised
Rich, I would share with you my handmade Christmas gift for him. I was getting along fairly well this holiday
season. Most of the Christmas shopping
was done and so was the decorating. The
children are at an age where they enjoy helping and can actually do so without
shattering the glass ornaments before they hit the tree. We only had one incident where Jonah was
throwing the handmade ornaments onto the tree as if he was a pitcher in a
baseball game, but we stopped that pretty quickly. Still, I needed to decide on a Christmas gift
to make for each of my family members, and I was having a time of it trying to
figure out what I wanted to do. Then I
had my epiphany. I would make each of
them a shirt with a treasured family photo on it that I would create with our
computer and photos we’ve collected on CD and then I would use a t-shirt
iron-on to create each masterpiece.
It was 9:00 pm and
the kids were particularly squirrelly that night. Rich was running late to work and I was
getting very tired. Still, I needed to
get on with it and get these presents done.
Both Erin and Jonah enjoyed our family vacation to the Dells this
October, so I chose a photo where the whole family was on horseback.
What I didn’t
realize, is that the computer did not read many of our photo CDs yet and I
neglected to write on their envelopes what was on each CD. I began the tedious project of cataloging
each CD. Now my one-hour project has
turned into several. I need to note that
our computer is old and has a tendency to crash if too much graphic work is
being asked of it. So now I am reading
all the CD’s from January 2003 until present and every other CD is making my
computer crash so I need to re-boot every other time. I am truly in the Christmas spirit now.
When I finally got
to the point where I could create the t-shirt transfers, I was in a tragic
state of mind. My eyes were glassed over
and I believe I was mumbling to myself.
Still, I got Erin and Jonah’s shirts done and they looked nice. Now it was time for Rich’s gift.
I found a great
shot of the two kids sitting on the back of an ambulance at the Mukwonago Fire
Department’s Open House. I decided to
tap my creative energy a bit more and add verbiage to my creation. “Papa, You Light Our Fire!” Was chosen and added to the photo. I then added the transfer to the printer and
let it rip. I felt so elated that I had
completed the project and it was only 11:30 pm!
I still had 30 minutes to iron it on the shirt and wrap it!
I took my time and
followed all the directions on the package to make sure I made a quality
present for my love. Then came the
moment of truth. I began peeling off the
backing and pride filled my heart full and my eyes flooded with tears. Not even a corner ripped! The transfer took to the sweatshirt
beautifully and there were no mistakes.
But wait! Did my tear-stained
eyes deceive me? Could it be that I was
mistaken? In my haste, had I accidentally
forgotten one small, simple step? Did I
neglect to hit the button on the computer screen telling me to “Flip” the
graphic? I did. Rich’s shirt now reads,
“!eriF ruO thgiL ouY ,apaP”
Too tired to care,
I wrapped it any way. His real Christmas
gift from me was the present of “MY WIFE SCREWED UP AND I DIDN’T! HAH!”
2004 was a good
year for us and we are looking forward to some much earned family time in
2005. We wish you and your family a
blessed holiday and 2005!
Love,
Shawn, Rich, Erin, and Jonah.
2000 Verdoni Christmas Letter
Hello
Everyone!
Thought
you might enjoy hearing about our Christmas Vacation at the Verdoni House. Just keep this in mind, this has not been
altered to improve its story--this actually happened.
It all
started about a year ago when we had Christmas at my brother, Ken's home. Rich, after a few beers, invited everyone
over to our house for this Christmas.
Afterward, he has no recollection he ever said that. He will deny it to his grave.
For the
past two weeks or so, he has been determined to cook the turkey himself. A friend of ours owns a deep fryer for
turkeys and has had several occasions to enjoy cooking turkeys with it for her
family with huge success. Rich liked the
fact that he could cook a 20 lbs. bird in 60 minutes. I told him that the bird was his
responsibility and I would take care of everything else. Every day I had heard his stories about how
wonderful this would taste, how much peanut oil he will need to buy, how easy
this is going to be. He even watched a
video to see a pro at work. That's when
it all started...
"We
need to buy another bird,” Rich said to me 48 hours before Christmas Day. "What?
We have a 20 lbs. bird bleeding in the refrigerator?" I told him.
According to the video, the fryer could only handle up to an 18 lbs.
bird. Ours was too big and Rich felt we
needed to buy another bird--and more peanut oil. (Apparently, there is never
enough peanut oil). After a few phone
calls, we found out that someone cooked a 23 lbs. bird without a hitch. Problem solved.
Christmas
Eve Rich was called into work 3 times for a faulty alarm system. Mind you, he had barely slept 2 hours in 24
so he was pretty beat when he finally got to sleep around midnight and had to
get up again at 6 AM to let his crew out of the building.
Getting
ready in the morning went as usual, Jonah not wanting to wear what he picked
out the night before (Momma, I want to wear the fish t-shirt and green socks to
church!) and Rich not getting up until the last possible minute wondering what
I picked out for him to wear. However
humorous our morning was, it was to get better.
We got
home from church around 10 AM. My family
was expecting to eat at noon. Rich
thought they were coming at noon and started to feel the pressure. "Don't park the car in the garage, I'm
going to set up the fryer in there."
He told me. "Rich, you want
to put a propane tank with boiling oil into our garage which has a wood pile,
riding lawnmower, and a snow blower with a full tank of gas in it? Do you realize you could blow up our
house?" "No problem, it will
be safe." he assured me. "By
the way, I'm not sure we have enough peanut oil."
As I am
busy trying to clean the last two bathrooms and help the kids take the many
toys out of their boxes, Rich begins the process of starting to get the turkey
and the fryer ready. Apparently, to keep
the turkey moist, it needs to be injected with a marinade via a hypodermic
needle. Jonah was watching Papa
intently. "This needle is too
small. It is not getting any of the
seasonings into the bird,” says, Rich.
As I am helping Erin with her doll that needs 7 AAA batteries, I hear
screaming. "I'M BLIND! I'M BLIND!" I run to the kitchen to see what's the matter
and that's when I see my husband with brown grease all over his face, hair and
shirt. I helped him to the sink and
began helping him wash off the seasonings off his face. When he calmed down, I was able to see the
rest of the situation. We had brown
grease splattered on the ceiling, Jonah, the floor, all over the counter, the
patio doors and the far wall by the great room.
What had happened is that Rich was fed up with the hypo and decided to
take it apart to get the juices into the bird faster.
After
we cleaned that mess up, Rich thought it was time to get the oil heated. "Where are the long matches?" he
asked. We have been out of them for
several months now. "Why don't you
tell me when we are out of things so I can get them." At this point, I felt it was best to keep
quiet. Then he says to me, "This is
going to be dangerous." I found a
match holder, but he didn't want to use it, so I shut the door. It is best not to see your husband go up into
flames, only to call 911 afterwards.
As I
began the process of making the other 10 dishes for the feast that was to
happen in about 60 minutes, I heard a blood-curdling scream coming from the
garage. I ran as fast as I could afraid
that my husband was doing his impression of baked Alaska, When I opened the
garage door, I saw Rich holding a large plastic container with something that
looked like lard in it--his eyes were glazed over. "ALL THE PEANUT OIL IS FROZEN!!!! I
CAN'T GET IT OUT OF THE CONTAINER!!!"
So I ran back into the kitchen and got a bread knife and told him to cut
the plastic jugs open and scoop out the peanut oil. Prior to putting the fryer in the garage, he
meant to put a tarp down on cement, but forgot.
When the time came to put the turkey in, oil was splattering all over
the place so he yelled at me again--this time to put rags over all the oil
(near the propane tank, near the open flame, in my garage with a wood pile,
lawn tractor, and snow blower.
"There is too much oil! I
need something to bail it out!" says my husband who had told me for two
weeks straight he needed more peanut oil.
I just shut the door. After Rich
got the turkey in, he had another beer and called his mom. "Mommy . . ." and then he proceeded
to tell her how difficult it is to cook a turkey. Like she has no clue. Apparently, she was laughing on the other
end.
At this
point, guests started to arrive. I was
flitting around the kitchen like a Japanese chef, slicing and dicing everything
I could find in my refrigerator to make sure these people had something to eat
until the turkey was done. 70 minutes
later, the side dishes were ready and Rich went to get the turkey out of the
fryer. When he brought it in to carve
it, it reminded me of those mummies I've seen on PBS. He placed it onto the carving board and began
to cut the legs away from the rest of the bird.
With a trembling voice and his eyes popping out of his head he says,
"Where's the meat? Shawn, does this
look right to you?????" I looked
down to see crispy strings of meat and skin--almost crystallized. He kept cutting and asking, "Where's the
meat?????" Then, my mother looks at
the situation and says softly, "Rich, dear, isn't the turkey upside
down? The meat's on the other
side." He looked up at her with
wide eyes and turned the bird over.
There was meat. As if praising
God, he says to my mom, "Thank You!" and began carving the turkey
that was supposed to be the easiest thing to cook on Christmas Day.
Does
the story end here???
NO.
At the
dinner table, Rich leans over to me and says, "Next time, we want to try
something new we should test it out before we have guests, don't you
think?" He has a college
diploma.
Does
the story end here???? Almost.
As I am
in the kitchen cleaning dishes and putting things away, Rich (having had 2
glasses of wine and a 6 pack of beer) decided it was time to bring out the
camcorder and take candid moments of me in the kitchen. I was telling him that I didn't want him near
me with the camera, when the phone rang.
Pam was on the line checking in to see how everything went. Grandma June also walked into the room and
heard me telling Rich I wanted him to just put the camera away. Then she makes this amazing revelation,
" JUST SHOW HIM YOUR BOOBIES!"
My eyes popped out of my head as Rich is trying not to drop the phone or
the camera. He had to leave the room to
keep his composure--I heard him laughing all the way up the stairs. My mom, trying to take control of the
situation, says to grandma, "Mom, you shouldn't say that." Then grandma proceeds to tell my mother and
me how "boobies" isn't a naughty word, and that it's okay to show
them even in the water . . .." Mom
said, "Mom, that's enough wine."
The
end.
Wednesday, January 13, 2016
2016 Verdoni Christmas Letter
The 2015 Verdoni Christmas
Letter
Dear Friends and Family,
This
year was an amazing year filled with so many changes and opportunities for the
Verdoni Family. Rich left Walmart after
19 years to start a new career with Meijer.
I took a big step and went back to school for my MBA. Erin graduated high school and is now a
freshman at Montana State University @ Bozeman.
Jonah just finished his final year as an MHS varsity football
player. They didn’t make the playoffs
but finished the season with a win. Now
he is focusing his efforts on applying to colleges to play football. Oh yeah, and we got a new puppy! It’s a good thing she is adorable because as
of this morning, I was ready to send her packing after she ate the crotch out
of my favorite sweatpants . . . but hey, I always tell everyone that my letters
aren’t about all the great things going on or complaining about all the
difficulties, they are stories about real life; the humorous side of life. With that said . . . on to the silly stories!!
I See London, I See France
Jonah’s
first job was working as a cook for Culver’s, here in Mukwonago. He worked his tail off and made some great
friends and some money. What he didn’t
realize, at the time, was that his experience would land him as a star in this
year’s Christmas letter. Erin, her
friend and one of my adopted daughters, Allison, and I were driving back from
our Christmas concert/dinner in Whitewater.
We were already laughing about silly things that I can’t remember. What I do remember is that Erin was laughing
so hard that she had to pee badly. So
bad that she couldn’t even make it home.
There was literally no public restroom open on the drive home until she
remembered that there was a port-a-toilet off the high school parking lot. As we were waiting for Erin to take care of
business, I got a phone call from Jonah.
“Hello?”
“Hey,
Mom. Can you come and pick me up now?”
“Yeah,
no problem. We have to wait until Erin
is done in the port-a-potty.”
“Thanks,
mom. Hey, wait a second, who’s ‘we?’”
“Allison
is with us. She came to the concert and
dinner so I have to bring her home.”
“Oh
God. Um, Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“Um,
this is going to be awkward.”
“Why?”
“You
promise you won’t get mad?”
“What’s
wrong?”
“I… um… ripped my pants.”
“Okay,
that can happen. “
“You
don’t understand, mom. I - ripped – my -
pants.”
“I
got it, Jonah. Just untuck your shirt.
That should cover it.”
“Um,
that’s not gonna work.”
“Why? I don’t understand. What’s the big deal? Anyhow, I told you when you bought them they
looked too tight.”
“Yeah,
well. I’m not wearing them anymore.”
“I
know. Will get new ones tomorrow.”
No, Mom. I literally am not wearing them anymore.”
“WHAT??”
Apparently,
Jonah was working the grill like usual, when something fell onto the
floor. This was early in his shift so he
was expecting a large crowd any time.
When he bent down, “RIIIP!” His
crotch just let go. Good news! He has to wear an apron so it covered most of
the affected area. However, as the night
went on, the rip just kept getting bigger.
As the night continued, the pants kept ripping and shredding. At one
point, a girl he worked with saw his dilemma and thought she could be
supportive by singing, “I see London, I see France, I see Jonah’s underpants!”
By closing time, there
was really nothing left. At the end of
his shift, when all the customers were gone, he asked permission to just finish
his chores in his underwear because the pants weren’t event pants anymore. By
the time Erin, Allison and I got there, he was outside in his compression
shorts and his pants??? Well, have you
seen the Hulk shred out of his clothes when he changes form? Jonah’s pants looked exactly like that.
Erin and the Dating Game
Allison
is getting dual notice! This story
happened about the same time, perhaps a week or so earlier. Erin had asked me if we could take Allison
ice skating. She was having a bad day and Erin wanted to cheer her up. Erin asked if I could drive them to downtown
Milwaukee so they could skate at Red Arrow Park. Erin is terrified of driving downtown but
loves outdoor skating so I was the designated driver, which is fine because
even though I don’t feel safe skating anymore, I do enjoy watching others and
walking around the rink. It was really a
perfect winter night. The stars were
out, the Christmas tree was lit brightly with red velvet bows decorating its
branches, and Starbucks played Christmas music outside so you can skate to
it. It was a magical night.
At
one of their breaks, I stopped by to check on them. At this time, Erin pointed out two really
cute guys skating. Both Erin and Allison
agreed that it seemed like the guys would look in their direction once in a
while. I realized that as the Mom, I
need to keep my cool and my distance incase these guys want to meet my
girls. So I started walking again,
trying to keep from embarrassing them. A
little while later, it was clear that Allison was done skating, so I took the
opportunity to go inside to warm up and try to get something to drink before it
was time to go. Then Erin and Allison
come into the building and here is where the story begins. . .
I
found a table and some seats for the girls to sit at while they took off their
skates so I waved them over. Just as I
was ready to move over to get my own drink, I noticed the two cute guys in line
to get something from Starbucks. The
line began right behind Erin and Allison at the table. So I motioned to the girls to let them know
the guys are right behind me. I can’t
remember if it was a wink, or a head nod, or what, but Allison got it right
away. Erin, however, said this in her
quiet princess voice,”MAAH! WHAT TIME IS
IT?”
I
answered in a quieter voice.
“WHAT? I CAN’T HEAR YOU, MAAH!”
I
responded, “shhh! The guys are right
behind me.”
“WHAT? MAAH, WHAT DID YOU SAY? WHO’S RIGHT BEHIND YOU? WHERE?”
At this point, the guys may or may not have realized they were the focus
point of the discussion. However, Erin
was using her Grandma Engaas voice (sorry, Mom, but it’s true) where volume
just keeps getting louder the more she talked.
“MAAH! WHAT TIME IS IT?”
So
I replied calmly and
quietly, “It’s quarter after,” forgetting that Erin never really understood
telling time on a rotary clock.
“WHAT???
YOU KNOW I DON’T KNOW HOW TO TELL TIME LIKE THAT! TALK TO ME IN NUMBERS!” At this point, the guys were staring at Erin
but not in an “hmm, I’d like to get to know her,” way. It was more like, “hmm, who’s the weird girl talking
so loud and can’t tell time??” way.
Needless to say, it was pretty clear they were no longer
interested. I just shook my head and
looked down. Allison started to laugh
hysterically.
The
whole way to the car and the whole way home, we laughed until we couldn’t
breathe. I was terrified of driving on
the expressway because I was laughing so hard I was crying and couldn’t see
through the tears. I may not have caught
the true hysterics in this rendition of our evening together, but I can tell
you this, I was very worried about Allison when we picked her up. When we dropped her off, she thanked Erin and
me for one of the best night of her life.
I wasn’t so worried anymore.
Funeral Etiquette
What
would a Verdoni Christmas letter be without a story that included my beloved
husband, Rich? Last December, we lost
our very dear friend, Harry Marshall. He
put up a hell of a fight against cancer—almost made it a year after
diagnosis. In January, his family
arranged for his funeral to be held up in Minocqua, Wisconsin. We drove up with Rich’s mom and his godmother
in our van. Jon came with his family separately. Sometime between the times we went to bed and
the continental breakfast before the early funeral service, Jon, Rich and Jonah
had a conversation about Jon’s drive up north.
Apparently,
the car in front of Jon hit a deer and left it off the side of the road. Jon was talking about how it was such a waste
and they should go and get it because it was a meaty deer. Now for those of you who don’t hunt or are
not familiar with Wisconsin laws, it is legal to harvest a deer that had been
hit by a car. You just need to call the
cops and the DNR and you get to take your roadkill deer home with you. Crazy, right?
Well, I guess it isn’t uncommon for people to see that you’ve hit a deer
and then stop—not necessarily to see if you are okay, but to ask if you are
going to keep the deer. If not, then
they will ask to take it home. Yes, my
friends, roadkill venison is a real thing in Wisconsin. Now, on with the story.
Jon
got Rich and Jonah so jazzed about this deer, Rich came up with the brilliant
idea (I’m sure Jon had nothing to do with it . . .) that they started planning
how they were going to go get it. Then
they came into the breakfast area to let me know what was going on (by the way
we are about 2 hours from the visitation/funeral).
“Let
me get this straight,” I started, “You want to go with Jon to find a dead deer
that has been on the side of the road for almost 12 hours now, to harvest
it. And neither of you hit this
deer. Correct?”
Rich
was very excited at this time.
Practically giddy with anticipation of this adventure. “Yes! But it’s below freezing out there so the meat
will still be fresh. And Jon says . . .”
Let me just add that anytime Rich begins a sentence with “Jon says,” it means
that Jon has instigated something that will likely end with Rich getting into
trouble.
“Rich,
the funeral is in 2 hours. We didn’t hit
the deer. Jon didn’t hit the deer. It’s likely that wild animals have gotten to
it already. Besides, we have to be
suited up very soon. Your mom, Aunt
Joyce, and all of us have to drive in the van back home. I’m NOT driving with a dead deer on the roof
of my car.”
“Not
a problem. Jon says the deer is nearby
and that he knows exactly where it is.
If the wild animals got to it, we’ll let it go. But the butcher shop is open today and we can
get it butchered right here so we won’t need to take it all the way home with
us.”
“No,
Rich. You aren’t doing this. We came up here to be here for Harry’s
family, not to get roadkill.” At this
point, I’m feeling like I am still in control.
Surely his family would be upset that Rich was going to leave to do this
so close to the funeral. I’ve got this.
“Absolutely! A dead deer is a dead deer no matter how you
kill it. Go for it,” encourages Harry
Jr. Shit.
“Rich,
you are NOT using the van to get the deer.
I will not have its blood and guts all over it,” I warn.
“You
can use my van!” Says Harry’s daughter, Kim.
Double shit. How can I be losing
this argument?? Am I in a different
world? Am I having a nightmare?
“Rich,
DON’T go. We are here for the funeral; NOT
to pick up roadkill.” I was now using my
Mom voice and look. Unfortunately, it
was up against Rich’s euphoric vision of ample amounts of venison in his
freezer. It was now a lost cause. Jon, Jonah and Rich ran off to their
adventure.
As
you might expect, I was livid. Erin was
just as upset so we left the breakfast area for our room. I could see that everyone was laughing and
enjoying the whole situation. I just
felt like the butt of a really bad joke and I didn’t like it one bit. I cried a great deal as I was getting
ready. Jen tried calling me to joke
about our stupid husbands, except hers wasn’t going to take roadkill home with
them. Erin was crying and mad as
hell. The time came for us to leave the
hotel room and go to the church. No
surprise, but the boys weren’t back yet.
Erin and I just got madder and madder.
Seething, actually.
About
15 minutes before the funeral was supposed to begin, she and I went to sit
inside on a church pew along with Rich’s mom when the boys arrived in their
suits. They were trying to stifle grins
and laughs and of course, Rich was trying to shower me with hugs and
kisses. At that moment, if I had the
ability to rip his arms off, I would have.
While I thought I would have been the screaming banshee that would scare
him to death, it was actually Erin who read him the riot act. Jonah saw the flood gates open and stepped
far away. People were starting to stare,
but we didn’t care. I can’t even tell
you what was said during the yelling portion of our story except for a few
moments.
“How
could you do this? Especially with it
being Uncle Harry’s funeral! You almost
didn’t make it! He is family!”
“We
did make it. Besides, I couldn’t just
sit here for 2 hours. I’d go crazy. Anyhow, Harry would want us to do this. I know he would.”
“Rich,
I know Harry. During every argument
we’ve ever had up here, he always sided with me. You’re wrong.
He would have hit you upside the head and told you, you were an idiot.”
Then
the sucker punch came out of nowhere from Erin, “And Dad, did you just make
plans to go deer hunting with Uncle Jon on my BIRTHDAY? My 18th BIRTHDAY? The last birthday I will have before I go to
college? How could you???” Rich dropped his head, he knew he was beat.
“I
did make plans, I was only going to go in the morning and come home afterwards.
You don’t wake up until 12:00 anyway so I didn’t think it would be a big deal. As for the deer meat, why don’t I offer Kim
the venison since she borrowed us her van.” I think I nodded at this point, but
it would be hard for Erin and me to get over this one.
You
see, Harry had always been there for me; when Rich went on his walkabouts, or
promised to be my “Love Slave” for the weekend and actually spent it fishing
and sleeping, or numerous other times when things didn’t quite go as planned, he
looked out for me, like a big brother. I
don’t have any words to describe how much he meant to me and how hard it has
been to let him go. He was the most perfect
imperfect person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing and loving. I miss him dearly. While Rich felt that he was honoring Harry’s
memory by doing one last ridiculous thing on the day of his funeral, I was
mostly angry because Harry wasn’t there to help me get past it. But as I think
about it now, I believe he was and it happened as it should. You see, when Erin and Kim, Harry’s
daughters, gave their eulogies, I couldn’t stop crying and couldn’t breathe;
Rich leaned over and held me tight and told me he loved me while I cried the
mad out.
After the funeral, the
family organized a luncheon in the community room of the church and at each
table were scrapbook pages for people to write a favorite Harry memory that
would be bound together later on in a book.
During this time, the boys and Jon regaled us with their harrowing
story. It has been many months since
I’ve heard it, so I apologize if I don’t have it all straight, but here is the
gist of it.
They
found the deer but realized they didn’t have anything safe to secure it onto
Kim’s roof. They took it to the butcher
and begged to drop it off there until after the funeral. The owner wouldn’t budge and insisted they
call the cops/DNR to tag it and then it also had to be field dressed before he
would accept it. Well, Kim’s van and
ours weren’t outfitted to field dress a deer so they had to improvise. Apparently, Walgreens has everything you need
for any situation, including field dressing roadkill. They found a park nearby but off the busy
road to field dress the deer. Jon felt
that there wasn’t a need to have all three of them cleaning out the deer so he
took photos and stayed in the heated car while Rich and Jonah were freezing and
trying to figure out what to do with all the deer pieces parts they had to take
out. I understand at one point, they
threw some of the items behind them and it landed on a merry-go-round. When they were done, they carefully placed it
on the roof to take it back to the butcher.
However, since they didn’t have secure straps, the deer was sliding all
over the roof and what was left of its blood and innards were now dripping down
the sides of the van.
I
can’t remember if they paid to have her van washed, but Rich was true to his
word that when the butcher called to let him know the meat was ready for pick
up, he went up to Minocqua to get it, and then stopped in Madison to give it
all to Kim who was very grateful for it.
It
has been almost a year since Harry’s been gone and life has gone on, as it
should. This past June, Kathleen and her family planned a memorial service up
at their place to make sure all those who loved Harry but were only residents
in the summer, got to honor him as well.
It was planned beautifully.
Harry’s late sister had married an episcopal priest and he was asked to
perform the memorial service. Harry’s
ashes were available for family and friends to spread in the woods as they
wished. The priest mentioned that before
Harry died, Harry took him to this spot and pointed out a tree just off the
path between the main house and the cottage where we stay. Harry said this was his favorite tree and he wanted
his ashes spread there. So that is what
was done. At this moment, Jonah leaned
over and whispered in my ear. “Well, I
guess I can’t pee on that tree any more.
That was my favorite pee tree.”
And the hits keep coming . . .
Just
one final point. I know the star of many
of these letters has been Rich, but he is much more to this family than his
silly stories. He is a devoted father:
bringing home a surprise puppy in a blanket so Erin can bond with it before she
leaves for college; or staying up for 24 hours straight so he can tour colleges
and meet football coaches with Jonah. He is an attentive husband: helping with
chores, keeping everyone out of the way while I needed to do homework and even
asking me out on dates once again. However,
Rich has given me his blessing by saying, “Shawn, someday you are going to make
millions on my silly stories.” Perhaps,
but I feel rich already because of the joy these Christmas letters bring to you
all.
This
year, we wish you all moments of laughter shared with your loved ones. After all, laughter is the world’s best
medicine!
Merry Christmas from the Verdoni’s! Rich, Shawn, Erin, Jonah, Shamus and Mia
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