The door with the odd cantered knob opens.
An elderly tallish man opens the door.
The images of him that occupy memory are vivid.
I always remember him to be taller than he really was.
I guess I attribute this fact, because to me,
this man was larger than life;
He lived life in so many ways, as it through him.
He exuded a presence that always captured my attention
and the attention of others around him.

"Yiasou Vasili!"
He would exclaim charismatically.
He always made me feel welcome.
He always made me feel comfortable.
He made me feel happy to be in his company.

An engaging captivating man,
he expressed himself with a strong body language
and when, he spoke with a solid confidence.

Multilingual; language, culture and words were his tools,
not his obstacles.
Tools that he used to pass on a wisdom and history that cannot be quantified,
only experienced.

A fascinating oral history lesson
woven between the cacophony
of noise and chaos of the crowd at
one of the family functions;
reinforces the importance and value of life experience.
Something that I have yet been able to read about.

He was a fascinating man!

Each wrinkle on his contoured face
had a interesting story to tell
that almost spanned a century.

The patriarch of eight children,
Twenty-three grand children,
Thirty-one great grand children
and a friend to many.
His love was his enormous family and
the solitude that he felt fishing.

Always the Fishermen!

Fishing by himself
Fishing with his children
Fishing with his grandchildren
Fishing with his friends.

Like his work, his hobby, his craft,
and his philosophy,
he was relentlessly uncompromising.
He could create, build, craft
anything that confronted/challenged his imagination.

My wife often proudly boasts about her
miniature doll furniture made out of scrap.
The creations she tells me were more akin to a reproduction than an imitation.
Or the tools he made to make tools.
Or the blue colour coded trailer extension he made for his electric scooter.

His creations were legendary.

I remember him with a happy tear as I write these words.
A cathartic acceptance overwhelms me at the realization that
his memory and mortality,
are the tools that Nonno Georgio has passed on to me
and so many others
that will enable us to enrich every available moment that
we are privileged to live through.


Billy Kavellaris