DEAR EDITOR:
Last week, James John Merenda died. In all the years that I had
known Jimmy, I had never had a real conversation with him. How
strange that seems, sense I have always felt somehow connected to
him. Whether at his workplace (Gilroy Lumber) or on the street, he
came across as a kind and generous person. What a smile!
DEAR EDITOR:
Last week, James John Merenda died. In all the years that I had known Jimmy, I had never had a real conversation with him. How strange that seems, sense I have always felt somehow connected to him. Whether at his workplace (Gilroy Lumber) or on the street, he came across as a kind and generous person. What a smile!
When our paths crossed, Jimmy called me “Mackie”, and never failed to ask about my brothers and sister (all by name). Four weeks ago, while home visiting my family, I decided to give Jimmy a call. His voice was clear and strong. We talked at length about his family and mine. For some reason, I had forgotten or perhaps had not ever known that he and my father, James Sacco, were born and raised in the same farming/mining area of southeastern Kansas, in a small town called Arma. They went to the same schools and church together, played sports together, and were often in each other’s homes during those growing up years.
For the past 34 years, I have lived in the several different countries. Each time we have moved on to a new assignment, we have had to leave a part of our family history, our connectedness. It was good to reconnect with a part of my history. Thank you, Jimmy. You were one of the reasons Gilroy was always such a great place to call home and to come back to.
Mack Sacco, Richardson, Texas
Submitted Tuesday, May 4 to ed****@************ch.com
