Ernest F. Rezendes

Ernest F. Rezendes

Ernest F. Rezendes, war hero, raconteur, and relentless force of goodwill, died August 17th, 2014, in his sleep. No doubt at the time of his passing he was dreaming of his dearest death-wish: expiring from a bullet wound delivered by a jealous husband. He is survived by his son Scott - a former Army Ranger, Green Beret, warrant officer and general badass, his daughter Debbie - a self-made entrepreneur who built a business dynasty from pocket-change, and his sister Eleanor - a lifetime military WAC who patched holes in tanks faster than opposing forces could make them. As well as a squadron of grandchildren between the ages of 40 and 9.

"Gramps" was 17 when he entered World War II. He fought in the Pacific, married a darling young whip-smart Georgia peach named Helen, and worked his way up from fresh-faced private to full-bird colonel during his military career. Because of this, he understood *everybody* - the little guys, the big guys, the smart guys, the dumb guys, the humble guys and the pompous guys. And Ernie called it like he saw it, usually in his pithy, almost fortune-cookie-like staccato: "He may be smart, but he can't out-think a damn potato." "She's not too quick, but she's smart enough to stay out of trouble." "Some guys are smart and work hard all their lives, some other guys are dumb but they win the lottery. I don't get it."

By all reports, everybody loved Ernie. When he finally retired from the military, he became a traveling hospital inspector, and wherever he went, everybody loved him. It was hard not to. Meeting him was like having a personal encounter with a man made out of sun and hope and uncommon common-sense smart-assery wrapped up in a dashing Portuguese countenance and the unmistakable cadence of the Boston accent denoting his hard-working roots. He brought flowers for the secretaries, jokes to the fellas, and knew when to ignore the occasional rat in the air-conditioning units - not all the hospitals were as well-funded as all the other ones. "Besides, maybe the rats eat the cockroaches!"

Gramps loved his grandchildren, sniping apple-tree-raiding squirrels at 200 feet with a BB gun, working in the garden, petting his dachshunds, and making comments like, "Mick Jagger? Who's that guy? He's uglier than the underside of my butt!" He was also an avid reader, compiling a gentleman's library of books, which stood watch on bookshelves behind a massive baroque desk - the kind of desk they made for men of accomplishment once-upon-a-time and don't really make any more.

Gramps will be remembered for his kindness, his warm-heartedness, and his one-liners that crackled with as much wisdom as humor:

"You know, some days, you eat the bear. Other days, the bear eats you."

"Every day I wake up and I'm not dodging bullets is a good day!"

"You know, the older you get, the faster it goes."

"You know, buddy, you should enjoy every day."

A service for Ernie, who is no doubt cracking up the non-snooty, working-class angels at some heavenly beach-paradise/ice-cream parlor with his pithy witticisms, will be held on September 6, 2014 at Culley's MeadowWood Funeral Home on Riggins Road . In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the Wounded Warrior Project, a charity very dear to his heart.