Uncle Donnie, my favorite story that Dad had about you was from the apartment he and my mother shared in Rockland where he had the German landlady. He said that they had the third floor apartment and used the back stairway to access the place. Dad said that the landlady used to can all kinds of food which she put on shelves, lining the stairay to his apartment, and that the back door used to slam whenever anyone came in. He said that one day, you came over, and the door had slammed behind you, which dislodged a jar of tomato sauce from a shelf up by his door. Thankfully, you didn't race up the stairs, so you missed being hit by it, but that it broke and went all over the hall outside of the apartment, making a frightful noise and a terrible mess. Dad said he'd poked his head out in the hall to see what the noise was, and it looked like an abbatoir. Just then, your head popped up from the stairwell, you look one look around and said, "Que salsa!" Dad couldn't stop laughing, all those years later, telling me this, and how his poor landlady came running, saw the red, and was terrified that a murder had taken place, except that you and Dad were laughing. He never forgot you, Uncle Donnie. He loved you like a brother. He had nothing but love for you, and always the funniest, fondest memories.

Once, Dad told me this story from his childhood: He was in trouble yet again, and he had decided he'd had enough. He was ready to run away from home for good. He had no plans as to where he would go, but he would leave eveyone far, far behind. He had been sent to his room by his mother and he was not to leave his room until his father got home and dealt with him. So, he'd climbed out the window, gripping the window ledge with his toes and reached across to the drainpipe that cam off the gutters. In those days, the house had a real, iron drainpipe, and Dad reached out to it, grabbing onto it with one hand. He swung himself over to it, grabbed on with his other hands and knees and began to shimmy slowly down the pipe. He said it was all smooth sailing for about 20 seconds and then the first set of hardware holding the pipe onto the side of the house let go. Dad said it was like being in a cartoon, one set letting go, then the next, then the next. He'd held onto the pipe for dear life, both hands and knees, but soon, he was becoming horizontal. So, Dad let his knees go from the pipe and began to dangle from his hands. He said that wasn't so bad until he felt something hard under his bottom, which forced Dad into a sitting position. Dad said he turned his head and looked to see what was there, only the see *his* father glaring at him from behind the wheel of his car. Dad said that grampy Chasse then began yelling, but the windows were up on the car, so all Dad saw was his father mouthing, "You're dead! You're dead!" at him. And Dad followed this up with, "I'm really not sure what he was more upset about: that I had escaped out a window when I was told not to leave my room, that I might have scratched the paint on the car by sitting on it, or that I broke the drainpipe off the side of the house. Those people had no sense of humor."

What i remember most is that you were so full of love. A love that sewed fuzzy slippers and dresses for my cabbage patch dolls. A love that accepted me as your daughter when u married my mother. A love that encouraged me to be intelligent and weird and difficult and creative...and actually enjoyed when i was a brat! A love that taught me to love myself and to not accept less than I deserve from those I choose to have in my life. A love that you shared with nieces, nephews, foster children, neighbors children - you made so many people feel loved. My mother most of all. Her true soulmate, you made her so happy for so many years and your marriage showed me a connection and depth of love and devotion I didn't know existed. I don't have the words enough to thank you for all that you brought to my and my mothers lives. I love you and I miss you.

I am going thur the steps you requested for an eternal marriage so that we can be married in this life and forever. In sickness and in health. In poverty and in wealth. In sadness and in joy. I entrust to you my heart , for the rhythm of its beat will forever nourish our love. I commit to you my soul, for it is the other half of yours. Love always and forever Donna

Thank you for your service. God Bless you and your family.

I will never forget the many years of fishing,camping and listening to Carlin and Jethro Tull. And the lousy softball team. It hurts to say good-bye to a best friend and the only 'brother' I ever had.