A message from buddys step son Joey 

“I lived with Buddy every day for 18 years, from age 2 to 20. Many things can be said about him, like his obvious love for animals. Until more recently, I had underestimated how much he actually influenced me. When someone passes, the floodgates of memories open. And apparently it was easy to forget small things, like him showing me how to play chess when I was very young.

He was the first person I could really have intelligent conversations with. And of course, this went on for years. I learned a lot, probably more than I realize. He was a well-rounded person, and a friend to a curious kid. It would be hard to put a number on the amount of conversations spent across a lanai table, as Buddy sat with his Scotch and smoke and gave me some late-night lecture. We would talk about anything from politics, to aliens, to history, to Science Fiction. When I was a teenager, we bonded over things like Star Trek. I was always fascinated by his life he knew us, like his travelling in the Navy as well as his hobby making props and models.

I realized months ago that perhaps the most significant impact he had on me were his continuous culinary expeditions which contributed to my love of cooking. That man spent hours in the kitchen, and if he wasn't cooking, he was prepping. Another portion of my young life was talking to him across a kitchen counter.

We also talked about music a lot. There was this DVR recording of Lynyrd Skynyrd we'd watch over and over again. Small memories like him explaining the 5-part harmony in the Eagles' Seven Bridges Road. I can credit him with giving me my first (and only) guitar lesson when I was 12, even though I wouldn't start playing for another 6 years. And when I wanted to play the drums that same year, I excitedly called him to ask about the parts of a drum set. And I recall a walk we took where he explained a bit of music theory. During that year, when he wasn't with my mom, I begged her to let him move in, citing how happy I'd be.

But as time went on we would alternate between friends and enemies, and for unknown reasons it seemed every passing year we would move closer to the latter. I'd always be relieved though when he'd stop in my bedroom doorway to make conversation about whatever it was, "okay, I guess we're friends today", I'd think to myself.

One day as 2017 came to a close, Buddy disappeared, and his stuff was gone. I would see him once more at a bus stop months later, and sparing all platitudes, we engaged only in brief dialogue regarding the bus arriving, as if we were complete strangers. My regret is I'll never be able to get closure on our tumultuous relationship.

It didn't take him passing for me to want to make amends, and not too long ago I semi-seriously joked with my fiancé about hiring him to come over and cook his famous egg rolls. It's bothered me for quite some time knowing how we left off. It's even more troubling knowing the opportunity will never come to be able to explain each others' side.

I can't help but wonder what he remembered in his final years or even days. I wonder what he thought about when reminiscing, and if they were fond memories, if he even held onto all those good moments. It's troublesome knowing that someone who lived such a long life claimed to have no family in the end. As cynical as he was, perhaps he couldn't have imagined me or my mom actually thinking back to all those years and smiling. Can't help but wonder if he would have thought that I'd remember him in a positive light. Nevertheless, whether knew it or not, his early influence on my life definitely shaped and even inspired me.

I still hate NASCAR to this day, but next time I happen to see cars fly on the TV screen, it'll be hard not to smile in remembrance, thinking of all the times that I would watch and talk to him about the race and the drivers anyway, asking questions, just trying to find something to talk to him about.”