Uncle Harry to me was a living saint. He always had a smile and cheerful demeanor even when telling a sad story about his formative years in Willard and Chicago. Not that he didn’t shed some tears, but that he recognized that his unusual childhood circumstances formed his character and outlook. His participation in WWII was grander then he let on. His job gave him access to the flagman who flagged his brother Frankie’s ship, which allowed him a celebrity visit on his brother’s ship which was dwarfed by the aircraft carrier that Harry was on.
Who but Harry could arrange such an event? Uncle Harry never wavered in his love of Aunt Vivian , his children or those in his family. On my last visit at the house with him he entertained me with his own recipe of blueberry muffins!
But mostly, I’ll never forget him clinging to my mother on her last visit to the Willard cemetery, crying softly over his mother’s grave recalling her burial at the age of eight of a loss no child should endure.
Uncle Harry we’ll always remember and share the love you gave others.
Your loving niece, Liz