My sister called very early this morning to tell me that Uncle Clem had just died. That’s him in the photo on the left – he’s the bald one, the one with the beard is my dad. Uncle Clem was 93 and he and Dad had been best friends for sixty years. Lucy’s voice broke as she told me the news, but within minutes we were laughing as the memories tumbled out. What a man! He had been an integral part of our lives from the day we were born, almost as important to us as our parents. He and Aunt Catherine had seven children, like my parents, but their youngest was a year or two older than the eldest in our family, so by the time Lucy was born, he was a grandfather.

Mom and Dad rented their first apartment from him and my older sister and I were born there. He was Chrissie’s Godfather. He babysat for us, taught us all (except Lucy!) to drive, came on family vacations with us and took us on his, counseled us in crises, introduced us to Guimond Farms Ice Cream and inspired us to be better people than we thought we were capable of. HE thought we were capable of anything.

Uncle Clem was a mailman. He got up every morning at four to get to work on time and that imposed an early to bed regimen in his house which his social and endlessly hospitable wife found a bit difficult to deal with. Aunt Catherine loved to entertain and her cooking was legendary. Guests enjoyed lingering over the coffee and dessert after dinner, but Uncle Clem was implacable about his lights out rule. He handled those who didn’t get the hint by excusing himself after dinner and rejoining the party dressed in pajamas and bathrobe. No one stayed long after that.

In his younger days, Uncle Clem looked a bit like Dwight D Eisenhower and we children were convinced that the five cent stamp had been issued in honor of him. We also believed he was the Postmaster General. We knew he was a hero. His first delivery route was in a poor neighborhood in Fall River. He once saw a rat attacking a baby asleep in a stroller in front of a tenement house and he rescued the child from its clutches with his bare hands (we loved that story and demanded to hear it over and over again).

He was a hero in so many ways. He gave of his time and his experience and his possessions without ever counting the cost. He volunteered in his parish and his city, he taught people how to read, he worked for peace and human rights. He had a brilliant mind and was always reading, learning and thinking. And what a sense of humor! He was blunt and quick and sharp and he loved teasing the people he cared about. In our family, we have a tendency to apologize often – once he remarked “You McGowans are the sorriest people I know.”

I treasured his support for Karuna Vihar. For years, he made a regular and very generous donation to the school in spite of having a limited income himself and he always wanted to know what we were up to next.

I visited him every time I returned to the States. The photo above was taken the last time I saw him alive. Each time we met, I was aware that it could be the last, but this time it was more poignant than usual. He told me that he was ready to go now. He said he missed Aunt Catherine and he was looking forward to a reunion soon.

Welcome to heaven, Uncle Clem! God bless you for the life you shared with us here, the gifts you gave to the world and the example you set. Pray for us all.

(Read Uncle Clem’s obituary from the Fall River Herald News for even more detail on the amazing accomplishments of his life!)