Monday, August 10, 2009

Recalling Lou Affinito

Up front I need to admit that I have not been Lou Affinito’s wife since 1976, and that I thoroughly like his current wife who had nothing to do with our splitting. But we had twenty years and two children together, and as Lou suffers his last days, the victim of an invasive brain tumor, I can’t help traveling back to our time together. Feeling the need to do something, I’m offering this tribute of sorts. I’ve carefully labeled it “Recalling Lou Affinito,” to make it clear that he is still fighting the battle of life.

It was 1953 at the University of Vermont. Genny, my colleague and apartment mate, and I had just attended a tea in honor of the artist daughter of the Psychology Department chair. At least, I think that’s what we had been doing. I am pretty sure I was wearing a black suit and a hat with a veil – and probably gloves. Genny introduced me to Lou who gave us a ride home from the grocery store. I was in Burlington, Vermont, but I knew at once that Lou was an “Italian” from New Haven – and I was a goner right from the beginning.

No, I’m not going to give the whole history – just some snippets. Like his 1949 Plymouth sedan. (OK, I may be wrong. Maybe it was a Dodge. Sadly I can’t verify it now with Lou.) But I do know it was black. Lou preferred black cars. And the heat in this one didn’t work, so, when we rode to and fro on school vacations from Burlington to Connecticut in the freezing cold, we’d open the windows wide and sing “In the Good Old Summertime.” That was the car that transported our several month’s supply of meat from his father’s store – and canned tomatoes, of course, and tomato paste and Ziti. I had never had so much fun with anyone as I did with Lou in our lighthearted dating days.

In 1955 my New Haven greenback shower paid the balance on our new 1955 Ford – actually blue with a white top, not black. One more point about cars. Lou had an ear and an eye for them. I’d drive in the driveway, go up the stairs to the kitchen, and find Lou waiting to tell me he could hear that we needed new shock absorbers. Or when he saw my new Chevy Monza, he knew immediately that it had the wrong left front tire – a fact denied by several “authorities” until I got to the owner of Partyka Chevrolet who immediately ordered that the “correct” tire be installed. OK, So much for cars.

More? There’s Lou, happy as a clam during the brief period when he enjoyed the freedom his pilot’s license gave him to fly a small plane. Lou coming home to play in the kiddie pool in the back yard with Doug and Lisa. Lou and our traditional visit to the drive-in movie on July 3d, complete with Dunkin’ Donuts. Lou basking in the family cookout in our back yard, complete with Bacci Ball for the men. (Losers couldn’t have a beer afterwards.) Lou thoroughly enjoying Frank Faggio’s Italian pastry at Lucibello’s. Lou’s devotion to his friends, and grief at their loss – Nicky Conte, Frank Faggio, cousin Al Altieri…

The nice thing about Word Documents is that I’ll be able to add more later, as it comes to me, but I can’t let this try go by without giving credit to his sayings;

  • Never force anything mechanical (saved me lots of damage)
  • The hard way is the easy way (comes to mind when I try to carry too many grocery bags at once.)
  • Turn a defeat into a victory. (I’ve thought of using this as a book title.)

Thanks for letting me share these thoughts with you.

2 comments:

Unknown said...

I remember Lou's car needing a part I'd never heard of before you appeared in Burlington. Several of us took a collection to help him get the part.
I also remember that while he was enjoying the flying, you were saddled with taking the kids to catechism.
I wrote Lou a note after
Bill died because I harbored a resentment about the fact that Lou had been my friend first, I had asked him to be Tim's godfather against Bill's objections. And yet, after our divorce, he dropped me like a hot potato. I never saw his new home, never met his wife, but he had Bill over for several holiday meals every year. Lou called me and we talked a bit.
He was unable to understand how he had hurt me. No apology - Bill needed friends.
So did I, but so what. Anyway, just talking to him and realizing how set his mind was, enabled me to let go of my resentment.

Mona Gustafson Affinito, Ph.D. said...

Oh my yes, Genny. It was Wrist Pins (spelling?) that he needed, and we had a container sitting on the table just inside the door of our apartment challenging anyone who came to make a contribution. They did. And Lou got the part.

Not only were you Lou's friend, you introduced us, and wrote a really telling and neutral response when he sought our annulment.

Thanks for this! Good friends are the folks we don't see often, but who respond as if no time had passed when we do connect.