Uncle Dominic

He is the finest gentleman that I have ever known. The highest compliment ever paid me was by way of comparison to him.

"I see so much of Dominic in you when you do a thing like that," was the approximate wording as I recall.

The "thing" that I had done was simply to be exceptionally kind and respectful of another. I cannot consistently be relied upon to do this, but Dominic could be. Always.

My uncle died last night. I am on my way to his funeral just now. This will be a hard one for our family. Dominic was beloved profoundly and by many. He was decent and honorable and funny and able, and we will miss him very badly.

Many of you got to know my uncle a little bit through this blog. He seemed often to be on my mind, and so I wrote about him on several occasions. Like the time we tried to unravel the mystery of his famous Scottish scones or his appreciation for Gallo Hearty Burgundy wine. Once he assisted Laura, his wife of 67 years, as she prepared a batch of her delicious doughnuts one very happy afternoon we all spent together last year.

Mister Meatball will not be nearly as rewarding to author without a subject like Dominic around to inspire.

Several readers, some of them complete strangers, others dear friends, have asked about Dominic these last few months and weeks. I can't possibly describe what that has meant to me, and so I won't begin to try. Thank you all, though. Thanks very much.

In early spring, over a pot roast lunch at one of Dominic's go-to hospital cafeterias, I told my uncle that he had a lot of fans who were asking after him, wishing him well, and from far away places he had never been. He seemed genuinely touched, if a bit bemused by this news, and asked that I convey his deepest appreciation and affection.

I thought that you all should know.