Two Old Men: The Unlikely Bond of Jack and Frank
They had little in common save for shared family, Sundays, stories half-remembered—and full heads of hair!
This is the story of Jack and Frank – two old men who journeyed very different lives. It’s doubtful their paths would ever have crossed except that Jack’s son married Frank’s daughter.
Each man had three kids - two daughters, and then a son. Oh, and they both had a full head of white hair in their 90s, - of which they were very proud. That pretty much sums their similarities.
At 16, Jack took his handsome, near-six-foot tall self out of his Newark, NJ, high school - and volunteered for the Army. In a blink, despite not yet licensed, he was driving a massive Army transport truck up to Camp Drum, NY, before being shipped to Korea. After two harrowing years of things no young person should see nor experience, he was honorably discharged. At a crowded dance in D.C., he saw a tall blonde across the room, and transfixed, he knew he would marry her. He courted her and she agreed.
With his earnings as a union electrician, he bought a house at the Jersey Shore. At a worksite all day, at 3pm, Jack hung up his tool belt, clocked out, and either went for a beer with the guys - or to one of his kids’ sporting events. On the weekends, he dived on old ship wrecks. He kept a dive journal about each excursion. He was a man of few words. Two divers succumbed on a dive. On the 17th of July, there was an entry: “Two bodies were found.”
Frank too, left high school early. He graduated at 16 and headed to Notre Dame. After graduation, he and his brother opened a contemporary furniture store in his hometown of Buffalo. Too young for World War II, he joined the National Guard. A slim brunette, who was a public health nurse, caught his eye. After three years, they married and built a home in the suburbs.
The 1970s were not kind to Buffalo. A declining rust belt city, Frank worked six days and three nights a week at the store. He marinated in anxiety, had frequent headaches, missed most of his kids’ extracurriculars. He pushed knowledge over sports – like how to convert Danish Kroner to dollars (a useful habit if you are selling Scandinavian furniture). He read voraciously, and was curious about everything. His kids (and their friends) called it “Death by 1000 Questions.”
Two college educations down and a third in the process, should have been a happy time, but Frank’s wife, Peggy, died of leukemia. It had been a brutal six months. First his dad, then his wife, then six weeks later, his best friend. Frank spent a few years being angry and lost. Then, a delightful friend came into his life, and made living fun again. They laughed at silly jokes, drank chablis, and traveled all over. At 65, Frank became a grandfather - three babies born in six months, followed by three more over the next couple years. He was a kid with those kids (to the utter disbelief of their parents).
At Christmas, when the grandchildren were little, he dressed as Santa and danced around in the snow. At a birthday party or special event, for which his daughter-in-law made a decadent dessert, he goaded the kids to ”Stick your finger in the icing and try it.” The kids were wide-eyed at the thought of such a violation. Even as she protested, one child always dared. He threw back his head laughing.
Jack had a different relationship with his three grandchildren. Much more placid than Frank, he loved their sporting events. He stood in the heat at track meets and tried to decipher the rules for his granddaughter’s field hockey games. Several times a year he drove 400-hundred miles to cheer his grandsons playing football and baseball. Driving was his passion, as was having a nice car. At 75 he bought a red Mustang convertible, much to the chagrin of his delightful and patient wife, Jackie. He even had a chance to drive a race car!
Jack and Jackie, traveled extensively. They drove across the country four times (not in the Mustang), and made trips to Canada, Mexico, Hong Kong, and Korea. They timed their trips around Korean War reunions. Jackie was the social one of the duo, and they developed friendships all over the country. They enjoyed going out to dinner - and Jack always ordered a seafood dish; Shrimp Fra Diavolo, mussels in white wine and garlic, lobster. No matter the entree, it was always paired with a red wine.
When Jack and Jackie were in Buffalo, or Frank was in New Jersey, there were the perfunctory dinners together. The conversations between Frank and Jack were light. However, Jackie made up for Jack’s reserved nature, so it was never awkward. Dinners were like this for almost 30 years.
But at 89, after a life well-lived, Jackie passed away – the day after Frank’s 93rd birthday. Frank was stunned at the loss of Jackie - and of that of another friend. Jack was grief-stricken without his bride of almost 70 years. His gait was unsteady, and he started to stoop. He moved in with one of his daughters. Despite her efforts, he preferred subsisting on Wheat Thins and cheddar cheese - and at least one glass of red.
On Sundays, Jack’s son and daughter-in-law picked Jack up and drove along the ocean with him. Jack wore his signature windbreaker, Korean War cap, and sunglasses. They frequented seafood joints in seaside towns. “Steak and Tails,” he said to the waitress. The son (wrongly) calculated that his father would take only a bite, and gleefully awaited eating the remainder (and thus ordered accordingly). The son and his wife watched in stunned silence as Jack meticulously extracted the lobster from the claw, cut up the filet, buttered a roll, and nibbled on the ear of corn. He never looked up until he finished every bite.
Frank lived alone, and still drove short distances in his hybrid Chevy – although was home by 4pm. (At least that’s what he told his kids.) One daughter left Buffalo to go back to New Jersey, and the other eventually left for Tampa. The progression of congestive heart failure meant going on a tasteless, low-sodium diet. His son grocery-shopped for him and made easy-to-prepare, low-sodium meals. Everyday, Frank cut up his broccoli and doused it in lemon vinaigrette. Berries for breakfast, and broccoli, chicken meatloaf, and rice for dinner. A diet for a runway model - completely lacking in calories. His jeans were cinched tightly to keep them in place.
To help spell her brother, the sister conspired to relocate Frank to New Jersey for a a couple weeks at a time. Each visit, the siblings drove exactly three-and-a-half hours to a diner in Binghamton to make the “hand off.” Frank was excited for the changes of pace - although the diuretics he was on made the trip a bit dicey. In New Jersey, he sat at the kitchen counter while his daughter tried tantalizing his tastebuds with sweet, savory, and hot spices, while stockpiling calories into his meals.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Butter chicken,” she replied, hoping the nonagenarian would like Indian foods.
“It’s delicious!”
On the Sundays that Frank was in New Jersey, he and Jack sat watching football or baseball together. Jack in the black Ekornes recliner, and Frank on the light grey sectional. Unsettled by the long bouts of silence and spurred by a burning need to know, Frank inevitably interrupted the game by leaning over to Jack to ask about Korea.
“What was the weather like?”
And Jack would fill an hour talking about the stifling heat or the brutal cold, the lack of coats and boots, the frostbite, and the time he scored a coat in an off-chance ride to headquarters. He shared how when he returned to his unit, they were offering hundreds of dollars for his parka. Or, about the time(s) he was shot. About how of the 40 or so men he served with in the Honor Guard, only he and a handful of others survived. And on it went. Frank asking about Korea, and Jack dutifully answering.
Every Sunday, the same questions. The daughter tried to record their conversations, but their voices were too low, too solemn, no words were audible.
One guy forgot he heard the story and one guy forgot he told it. Two men, with virtually nothing in common, formed this simple, unlikely bond over family and shared routines.
Frank passed away on August 4, 2022, just a day before Jackie would have turned 90. Jack at 91, passed on the morning of Frank’s wake, August 11, as if closing a final chapter. Strangely enough, Jackie had passed on November 9, 2021, a day after Frank’s 93rd birthday. They made sure their families are forever intertwined.
The chair and sectional are empty on Sundays, but the echoes of their stories and their presence remain for the people who loved them.
What a touching tribute story, such an unlikely and wonderful friendship, and such beautiful memories. Thank you for sharing their lives with us! ❤️
Thank you Diane for a touching remembrance of our wonderful fathers😍