Carmen Testa

My Uncle Carmen died last Tuesday.

January 23, 2018 sometime between 8 and 8:30. The preciseness comes from his wife Gerry who called to give me the news. She said "Your Uncle Carmen died this morning sometime between 8 and 8:30".

The preciseness felt odd to me. I didn't need to know the time, it was more than enough to know he was dead. But the preciseness also made it more real, more personal. She called me a couple of hours later.

I was reading comfortably in my recliner between 8 and 8:30.

Carmen was my father's brother. He was 12 years younger than my father.

I worshiped Carmen. He was a supremely unique individual, especially for his generation. He had a wicked sense of humor, he was super intelligent, he was cultured, he was upbeat, open and accepting.

He constantly blew me away. My father was a bit more stern, a bit more judgmental, a bit more closed minded.

Carmen was a free spirit.

In many ways, both conscious and unconscious, I strive to be like him. Some of it is a natural extension of my personality. He was insane and flamboyant when he wanted to be. He held an annual barbecue in his backyard every year. A back yard only he could love.

It was directly across from a Logan airport runway. Right across the water. Planes took off and came in for landings regularly. The noise would drive most people crazy.

Carmen loved it. The noise didn't bother him and he loved watching the planes come and go.

At these barbecues he would cook unique food and wear something bizarre. One year he wore a baseball hat with a ponytail attached. One year he wore a green see through mesh shirt. Crazy aprons. I have eaten barbecued yak meat in his yard, barbecued Spam, and eaten salad with peanut butter dressing.

Conversation with Carmen would be stunningly wide raging. He spoke knowledgeably about architecture, engineering, classical music, ballet, religion, and politics.

And occasionally he would blow you away and initiate a conversation about something like porn. "Yeah, I was watching this pornographic movie the other day and..............". Not in a sleazy way but out of sheer curiosity. He had an insatiable appetite to learn, to experience.

I was admiring a Harley Davidson watch he used to wear. It was a big metal watch, with springs on the sides of it like the springs in the forks of a bike.

He took it off and gave it to me. Blew me away.

I wore that thing so proudly. Made me feel so connected to him. Until I broke the goddamn thing. I banged it into something outside and it fell apart. I lost some of the pieces because they fell into bushes.

I regret that to this day, and he probably gave it to me thirty years ago.

I am now the oldest living male in the Testa family. I am the elder.

I am not comfortable being in this position. It feels like it carries with it enormous responsibility. Responsibility I am not sure I am up to.

Years ago I used to listen to Howard Stern a lot. He was talking one day about going to school functions with his kids. He said he always felt like all the other adults were adults and he was a kid.

I identified immediately with that comment. I always felt the same way. You will never hear me initiate a conversation about excise taxes, property values, home improvements, school budgets or any of the other things "adults" talk about.

It is inconceivable to me that I am now the oldest Testa male. Nothing I can do about it.

Except to respect that honor the way that Carmen did. By just being myself. And hopefully do it in a way worthy of respect, and maybe bring a few fond memories and some laughter when I am gone.

Requiescat in pace, Carmen Testa. Uncle Carmen. I worshiped you. I loved you. I appreciated the way you lived your life.