Eric Scalera

As I approach the age at which my favorite uncle passed away, I can't help but think about this kind, generous loving man. When you get to the end of your life, it's not about what you did, how much money have, or where you went to school, but more about how many people you touched along the way with your kind-hearted soul. A moniker for which few people can hold. He visited us often in New Jersey, making the drive from New York City, always stopping at the local bakery along the way to bring us the most prized box of cookies in the tri-state area. When he left, he always slipped us kids, a twenty-dollar bill, money he could have used to buy food. He was a long-time aircraft mechanic at Pan American in New York City. As a kid, I was always enamored by the big wrenches he would loan my father. I still have his toolbox in my garage in San Francisco and often think about him when I see that old box sitting under the stairs, laying at rest still with the big wrenches inside. He died early of heart disease, a disease that could have been prevented. It's still upsetting to this day to think about how this could have been avoided. My older sister gave the greatest honor of all to my deceased uncle by naming her son, who is now in his twenties, Jonathan. It's been 30 years, but we are all still so grateful for your rare soulful presence in this amazing world. Written August 14, 2020