Saturday, January 23, 2016
I can't help but smile thinking about Uncle Jack, my father Paul's brother. He was always in a good mood. I'll never forget visiting his tea company, high in a Manhattan skyscraper, a long row of tea cups lined up for tasting. (You know, his father was in the coffee business.) I'll also never forget learning about septic tanks by walking over his squishy back yard in Ho-Ho-Kus where he was having issues. This one is hardly the usual stuff of condolences, but, you know, life is life and Uncle Jack was always cheerful whether in the rarefied realms of business or the daily stuff of life. R.I.P., Uncle Jack.
Gregg Painter
Denver
