I have so many fond memories of playing in your backyard and swinging on your swingset. Loved listening to your barbershop quartet and gymnastics with Karen and Laura. Great times with great neighbors. Prayers and blessings to your family.
Memories
Engaged. Focused. Wholly invested. These are traits that come to mind when I contemplate my late uncle, Don Stewart.
Mental images accompany the words. There is of course, the octogenarian of late; a man under siege by the merciless affliction of Parkinson's. But a more salient image is that of a man half that age, sitting on the edge of a chair in the spare room at my grandparent's Long Lake home, engrossed in a game he is avidly watching on their large console color TV. He is animated and vociferous. The entirety of his attention is riveted on the action playing out on the screen. This is no casual spectator. This is someone for whom sport is so inured and visceral that he feels as though he is virtually taking part.
But Uncle Don's exuberant enthusiasm was not confined to sport. The same degree of passion that characterized his rapt scrutiny of TV contests undergirded every other pursuit to which he directed his attention. Having seen him in action during barbershop quartet performances for example, I can attest that he threw himself into singing with the gusto of one who never considered giving less than 110%. He was emotive. He smile was bigger than life. His tenor voice was conspicuous, sonorous, LARGE.
After my grandparents passed, Uncle Don was in charge of disbursing their estate to the children and grandchildren. As a grandchild, I received a check written out by him accompanied by this note, also in his hand: "Your grandfather loved you very much." I remember thinking at the time that that sentiment, though attributed to my grandfather, sounded very much as though it was coming from my uncle himself, and as such, was quite moving. The money was welcome, of course, but the expression even more so.
Parkinson's prevailed itself upon my uncle like an unrelenting enemy. But my uncle never threw up a white flag. The same gung-ho determination that served him so well while he was young, was still very much in evidence in his older self. It was no small sacrifice for him to attend the funerals of both of my parents, determinedly pushing his walker ahead of him over rough terrain, seemingly oblivious to his infirmities as he did so. His once strong voice was faltering and weak, but his sparkling eyes still retained that passion; that engaged, focused, wholly invested drive that he always had, and retained, right up to the end.
My sincere condolences to the entire Clan Stewart. He will be missed.
Mr Stewart was responsible for getting me started in Little League and Scouts as well as getting my father jerry into the coaching of our sports. Peace be with Don and the whole Stewart family!!