The long life of a good man

Tio Pablo

How do you sum up the life of a man? Especially one whose warmth and gregariousness made everyone around him feel loved and appreciated.

All I know is that the standard newspaper obituary -- in this case, a single paragraph with a mere eight sentences -- doesn't do justice to Paul A. Rede, who died last week at age 89.

Uncle Paul was the second-oldest of nine children -- seven brothers and two sisters -- on my dad's side. His wife and daughter preceded him in death, leaving three sons, six grandchildren and two great-grandchildren, along with four surviving brothers and a sister.

Born into a poor family in rural New Mexico, he never attended high school. Like each of his brothers, he served in the U.S. Navy, seeing action during World War II and Korea. After the service, he settled in Gilroy, California, where he worked as an auto mechanic and later opened a florist shop -- and developed a love for golf.

As the oldest of the boys, he occupied a special place among the Rede siblings and within the extended family. No one was more enthusiastic than him when it came to planning and perpetuating the annual Rede reunion that typically drew 100 or more relatives. He and Oralia, his wife of 42 years, must have hosted it at least two or three times in Gilroy, known as the Garlic Capital of the World. As a widower, he nudged two of his sons to co-host last year's reunion in San Francisco.

Two years ago, at age 87, he and my Uncle Luciano came up to Portland for the annual summer gathering of Redes. No one was surprised that Uncle Paul did all the driving -- both ways.

My dear uncle will be buried today in Gilroy. I won't be able to attend. But I'll always carry fond memories of him warmly greeting Lori and me at the few reunions we were able to attend in recent years, of him making the rounds to socialize with nephews, nieces and cousins, and of him playing cards and dominoes with his brothers.

RedePalooza

...also known as the 33rd annual Rede Family Reunion.

Whew!

The three-day reunion is over and done and Lori and I are feeling pretty tired out. Maybe not the best thing to say right off the bat, after entertaining about 40 relatives (including our family of five, plus two girlfriends) and executing the logistics of five scheduled events, including four meals. But I'm just being honest. (More on that below.)

This weekend's honored elders were my dad, Catarino, pictured above, between his two brothers, Luciano (L) and Paul (R), all of whom are in their 80s. They are three of the five brothers who are still alive of the original nine. Health issues and financial considerations kept the other two away. It was great to see these three brothers, of course, and appreciate their longevity and good-hearted nature.

Likewise, it was nice reconnecting with so many first and second cousins and other extended family. Makes you appreciate your roots a little more, along with the enduring tradition of these annual get-togethers.

We now have a much greater appreciation and respect for what other aunts, uncles and cousins (as well as my dad and stepmother Oralia, below, with Lori) have gone through in hosting much larger gatherings throughout the years. (Uncle Paul has hosted seven(!) in Gilroy, Calif., known as the Garlic Capital of the World.) It's a lot of work.

You begin with a "save the date" email and letter and follow up with maps and more detailed communications as you fill in the specifics of the weekend. You visit local motels/hotels to negotiate the best group discount; reserve a community center and a local park; make arrangements with a parish priest to say a special Saturday Mass; line up food and beverages for the weekend; plan some games and entertainment; send "last call" reminders to those who haven't RSVP'd; and then you wait...wait for enough people to respond to justify holding the event.

In our case, that was a very real concern, given that no family reunion had ever been held north of San Francisco and knowing the economy wasn't in the best shape. Still, people came from California (where most of the family lives), Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, Washington and Alaska (my younger sister, Cathy, below). We thought one couple was coming from Virginia, but they were a no-show.

Once the reunion is under way, you're on -- visiting with as many people as you can, setting things up, taking them down, cleaning up, packing up and getting ready for the next meal/event.

Saturday got off to a nice start at St. Andrew Catholic Church with a short but sweet sermon by Father Chuck Lienert about the gift of family. Following that, the picnic at Peninsula Park was the highlight -- a good five-hour block of time to play poker, move from table to table and enjoy the fresh air. It was overcast and a bit chilly at first for many of our guests, but it warmed up nicely and the community center was downright stuffy by the time we sat down to dinner Saturday.

Speaking of dinner, we got burned twice by folks who agreed to furnish food for the reunion. First, it was Quizno's. The local store manager forgot -- simply forgot -- about the order we had confirmed twice before. That meant we cut it closer than we should have had to in getting ready for Friday night's welcome. The bigger screw-up came Saturday, when we learned at 1 pm, with stomachs beginning to growl, that the guy who was coordinating a noon delivery of homemade tamales, rice and beans had -- again -- simply forgotten about us. We had to scramble and quickly order burritos from a local Mexican fast food restaurant to save the day.

Because the caterer who flaked out was supposed to deliver enough food for lunch and dinner, we had to order yet a little more food for dinner. I phoned in an order to pick up at 7 and, wouldn't you know it, they hadn't even started on the order. Argh! So...I had to wait half an hour while they prepared tamales and more rice and beans. Needless to say, the delay made for some hungry folks.

Finally, Sunday morning came around -- actually faster than we would have liked, given how late we finished cleaning up the night before -- and at last a meal was served on time and with the TLC we intended. We served up some awesome pozole (a hominy stew with beef and chicken), corn tortillas and pan dulce (Mexican pastries).

And now, as the day comes to a close, we turn our attention to Jordan. He leaves for Fort Bliss early tomorrow morning, so Lori and I will be up again before daylight to ferry him to the airport and, once again, send him off with our love and prayers. It's been great having him home for the past week. In about eight hours, we'll be saying goodbye...

Quick Takes

My last few posts have been relatively long, so here's a little something to tip the scales in the other direction:

-- Just came in from a run up to Mt. Tabor, a dormant volcano in Southeast Portland. Been a long time since a run lasted a full hour or more. Took me 1 hour, 4 minutes up and back. Whew.
-- Planning continues for the Rede Reunion in early July. Going to make copies of a couple maps, stuff some envelopes and send them on their way.
-- The artists I've featured this week on the video bar all have one thing in common: Kathleen Edwards, Sarah McLachlan, Neil Young, Joni Mitchell. Can anyone guess?

By the way, I'm blown away that this 1970 performance by Joni was nearly forty years ago! Amazing.

Want to see more from that concert? Click here.

The last weekend in May

As I sit down to write, with 90 minutes left in the month of May, I find myself pulled in a dozen directions. Funny, when I started this blog three months ago, I wondered if I'd find enough fodder to sustain this little enterprise of mine.

Short answer: Yes.

Not everything has to be weighty and serious -- though I try sometimes to make a point that I hope resonates with those of you who are so kind as to give Rough and Rede any attention at all.

Nor does everything have to be funny -- though I sometimes wish I wrote with a lighter, breezier touch.

And by no means does it have to be about family -- if it were, I suspect it would come across as too insular.

So, with those caveats, I'll just give myself permission to roam here, there and everywhere my thoughts take me at this hour.

Good intentions. Way back in April, I wrote about the environmentalist David Suzuki and his passionate urging that all of us find ways to reduce our carbon footprint NOW in hopes of reversing the global warming trend. I vowed then I would do little things that were in sync with that message. I know it sounds trivial, but since then I've been taking the stairs a lot more at work and using the elevator a lot less; I've been more diligent about taking those canvas bags to the grocery store instead of using a new paper or plastic bag every time; and tomorrow morning, I'm going to start taking an insulated mug with me so I can avoid using a disposable cup every time I buy coffee. Small steps, I know, but things I should have been doing long ago.

Pushing myself. Yesterday, during the hottest part of the day -- high 80s -- I went down to the Springwater Corridor, just south of OMSI, and ran for nearly 50 minutes. Nearly everyone else on the paved path was on a bicycle (and, yes, it looked like fun), but I wanted to challenge myself a little -- not in a stupid way where I'd invite heat stroke, but in a good way where I'd take it steady, running alongside the river (above, a view from the east bank of the
Willamette River), occasionally passing into the shade and otherwise enjoying the sun beating down. When I was a kid, there was nothing better than playing a team sport. I'm no longer quick or agile enough for that, so I treasure the freedom and solitude that define running.

The pleasure of spontaneity. Today was the day I set aside to catch up on all I needed to do to send out information packets for the Rede family reunion in early July. At mid-morning, though, we got a call from our daughter and her partner, inviting us to come over for barbecued burgers and play time with our dogs -- their little rascal, Quimby, a Chihuahua/Pug mix, and our scamp, Otto, a Jack Russell terrier.

Otto wasn't feeling too good today (probably a combination of the heat and something he ate), so he was rather subdued. I could have stayed home and worked on the reunion stuff, but it was great to just spend a few unscripted hours with Simone and Kyndall and Kyndall's mom, Rena, who we'd met just the night before. (A great lady.)

After dinner, I could have dived in (no pun intended, as you'll see...). But, no...Instead, Lori and I watched the movie "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly," an amazing documentary-style movie about a French magazine editor who suffers a stroke and, after emerging from a coma mute and completely paralyzed, learns to communicate solely by blinking his eye. It is, as the Netflix capsule says, a "poignant film about the strength of the human spirit" and one which earned Julian Schnabel the Golden Globes' best director award.

So here I am, 45 minutes later. Normally, I'd be plowing through The New York Times at this hour. Instead, duty calls me to the Rede reunion details. We'll see how far I get...