Big John

My uncle died on opening day of the 2016 baseball season.  A Clevelander through and through, he loved the Indians, and this happened to be the season when they went to the World Series and lost to the Cubs.  Even though my address says Chicago, I was pulling for the Tribe.

My brothers and I called our uncle "Big John."  I suppose this was for the obvious reason that he was a big guy, not overweight or anything like that, just tall and, well, big.  But I think we'd all agree that there is another reason: his heart was unusually big.  He modeled kindness with magnanimous spirit while practicing a humility that always kept him under the radar.  

This song is pretty darn close to word-for-word true: He always paired an offer of a handshake with a "Put 'er there;" I joined him and the other ushers from Gesu for a post-mass breakfast at Yours Truly when I'd be in town; and the day he was buried was one of the most unusually clear, beautiful days I've experienced in C-town.  

This is an ode to Cleveland, but most of all a tribute to Big John.  

"Big John"

Instrumentation: guitar, tenor banjo

My uncle died on opening day 

The year the Tribe almost went all the way

I guess the seats are better with St. Peter above

Cleveland in November's a rough place to stay 

The sky is a cracked pavement gray

And the wind off the lake greets you with a shove

My uncle was an usher at the 7:30 mass

He'd park in the lost with the Chevy low on gas

To serve what he'd never say, but always lived

He and the guys would go out from there

Breakfast at the YT in Shaker Square

And he'd head home to the house where he lived as a kid

The Cuyahoga's on fire

Lake Erie's full of muck and mire

And a long, cold winter draws near

But from the east side to the west side

This town's got it where it counts on the inside

'Cause people like my uncle live here

My uncle had no kids of his own

As he aged the yard was overgrown

And he wouldn't talk about the cancer eating him

You'd think that he lived his life alone

But friends like his were like skin to the bone

To them the Cleveland skies were never too dim

The Cuyahoga's on fire...

Big John died on opening day

The year the Tribe almost went all the way

For a change, the wind was calm and the skies were clear

"Put 'er there, Pete" is what he'd say

To the keeper of the gate to start this day

Pete said, "We need more folks like you around here..."

The Cuyahoga's on fire...