Sarge

I read this at the get together after Sarge's memorial service. I was going to write something else today but there is nothing more to say.

 

 

There are a lot of people in this room today, a lot of life, and yet there is a huge void. A distinct feeling of emptiness. Feels like something’s missing.

That’s Sarge.

The people in this room know they are lucky to have known Sarge. Those of us who were related to him were even luckier.

 That says a lot about the kind of man Sarge was.

But there are a hell of a lot more people outside this room who also consider themselves lucky to have known Sarge.

And that tells you everything you need to know about the man.

He brought magic to your life, he made you laugh, he made you feel important and you knew he cared.

The phrase “celebration of life” has become a cliché over the years because it is all about people trying to find a positive way to deal with death. Trying to make sense of something that hurts so much.

In Sarge’s case, the words “celebration of life” mean exactly what they were originally intended to mean.

Because he lived his life full throttle, he did it his way and he made so many other peoples’ lives better.

Everybody wants to live life on their own terms, but for most of us, it is much easier said than done.

Sarge was true to his spirit, always.

He was tough, gentle, loving and considerate, funny, insane, free spirited, sensitive and self-less.

The thing that made him so cool was that he did it all so effortlessly. He didn’t have to get in your face to be who he was.

His personality was just there for all to enjoy. He projected strength, quietly.

Unless you pissed him off. Then you were on your own. Sarge didn’t take shit from anybody.

And that is another personality trait we all we wish we had.

I could tell you a hundred stories of insanity I enjoyed with Sarge in various states of altered consciousness. Stories about crimes we committed in the vicinity of the Pocono International Raceway, and much more.

And for every story I could tell there is somebody inside this room or somewhere else who could match it.

Sarge made insanity fun and fear non-existent.

I could also turn around and tell you about a hundred conversations I had with Sarge. Sensitive, thoughtful, meaningful, quiet conversations about life and experiences and hopes and disappointments.

Those were special because I knew I was talking to a man who meant everything he said, who felt everything he said.

No bullshit. Just real life.

I know I am not the only one he spoke to in that way. He touched a lot of people with his openness and his honesty.

Sarge loved to give gifts. I could fill a room with the gifts Sarge gave me. Collectibles and T-shirts and hats and mirrors and lights and memorabilia.

And every time he gave me a gift he made me feel special. Like he had given it a lot of thought.

I loved it when he would take me down to the basement at the Grille and paw through a bunch of racing stuff he had stashed there until he got to whatever it was he had in mind.

He had other stuff stashed down there too, and that made the treasure hunt even better.

On one of his last visits to our house he gave Carol a bright red VW bug. A metal car.

Carol drives a VW bug and it is the love of her life.

She also created a garden in front of our house that is her passion.

Sarge told her to put the bug in the garden and leave it there. Leave it there in the rain and the snow and all the seasons. He told her to let it rust there because that’s what it was meant to do.

The car is covered by snow right now.

That is a perfect example of the thought that Sarge put into giving gifts.

Lots of people have gifts from Sarge that they can hang on to as a reminder of the kind hearted, generous man that he was. But none of us need those reminders.

If he was in your life he was in your heart.

I knew Sarge for something like 38 or 39 years. More than half my life. Many in here knew him longer than that.

I’m standing up here trying to explain what he meant to me, the good things he brought to my life but, ultimately, I can’t do it.

What I am really doing is representing everyone who knew and loved Sarge.  Because he gave all of us something to remember. Something special.

He was a rare individual who made you feel good about yourself. He was always there to listen to you, to give you advice and to help you out.

And he made you laugh. Above all else he made you laugh.

Sarge was larger than life.

His shoes will never be filled.