Memories of Jack - Eulogy

We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Jack Pawela, a beloved husband, father, grandfather and friend. His life might have seemed modest but the impact he had on others was far reaching. Let’s discuss…

My dad was a favorite among the neighborhood kids. Our pool was always open in the summer to all. He would be right there with us, making a whirlpool or throwing kids in the air until he couldn’t lift his arms. Before baseball season, he would take the neighborhood kids out to the field and hit fly balls. Inclusivity was very important to my dad before it became a buzzword. No neighborhood kid was ever excluded from our house, pool or games. It was just a natural extension of his kind spirit.

For Mike, he set up a pitching mound in the backyard and would put on catcher’s gear and with fear in his eyes yell, “Ok Mike, I’m ready”. What happened next was a mixture of the ball squarely hitting the leather glove (good) or sounds of the ball hitting the metal tool shed (bad). At times, we could hear some choice words after a wild pitch. Once, the ball boomeranged off a tree and then hit Jack in the face! What started out as a simple catch between a father and son progressed to a catcher’s mitt, then a face mask, then a chest protector! Sometimes Jack would end up with a bloody nose! He never gave up on Mike and would regularly be seen at his games sitting in the bleachers cheering Mike on. The result was Mike lived out his dream of becoming a pitcher including time spent on the mound in college! Pretty impressive.

From the time Mike was very young, he loved to fish. Even though Jack was working two jobs, when Mike was 7 or 8 years old, one Saturday morning as the sun was coming up, the two of them set off to Timber Creek to fish. They didn’t catch anything that day, Jack wasn’t a fisherman, but he created a memory with his son that remains to this day.

In the winter, my dad would take us ice skating on Hirsch’s Lake. He liked to play Crack the Whip with us and would enlist as many kids to join our human chain as possible. I felt sorry for the last one to join because that person would inevitably go so fast that it seemed like they had a jet pack on their back! In the summer, from Memorial Day to Labor Day, our backyard was picnic central for my dad’s extended family. Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Tony, Susan and Eileen and later Stan. My mom would make my dad’s favorite dishes – shrimp and macaroni salad and rice pudding – along with the hamburgers and hotdogs. My grandmother would bring the watermelon. As always, my dad was organizing games on land and in the pool, making sure everyone was included. It was fun to see my Uncle in his shorts, white socks and dress shoes across the badmitton net from my very proper grandmother. No one was exempt from the games! I’ll never forget the time Susan and I were playing lawn darts and we sent one right through my shoe! Thank God it wasn’t her leg that took the direct hit!

As kids, we always knew our father prioritized us over all else. I took those values into my relationship with my daughters and I see it in Mike with his girls as well. No matter how tired he is, Mike always makes time for Amanda and Olivia. He learned how to be a good father from Jack.

There was always an optimism with my dad that was infectious. A kindness above all else. It took a lot to get him angry with us though on occasion we succeeded… but we always knew the anger wouldn’t last. He was above all else, a good person. The type of man who upon meeting him, would greet you with a warm smile. He was interested in getting to know people, ask about their families. He rarely had a bad thing to say about anyone. He saw the good in other people.

Our vacations were really something special. I don’t know how my parents afforded it, but every year our family took great trips. In the early years, we would pack up the station wagon with the dog, cat, bikes and beach toys, and head to the Jersey Shore. My dad would spend hours playing with us, building castles in the sand, and in the water where we learned to bodysurf from the best. Sometimes it was my dad, smiling from ear to ear, who was the last one out of the water! As we got older, our travels took us farther from home to Busch Gardens, Fort Lauderdale and then, our family favorite, Disneyworld. My dad was a big kid at heart and could be counted on to get on any ride, including that crazy Yetti rollercoaster. I get sick just thinking about it…Some days we rented little speedboats and cruised around the alligator infested lake. What did we know!

Later, when my family moved to Florida, my mom and dad would make the trip to Boca Raton and stay for a month or two, making the time to be close to their oldest granddaughters. When we left Florida, my parents continued with their annual trip south to stay with Chris and Dan. Chris’ most fond memories of my dad were watching him happily walk his dogs around the neighborhood and then spend the afternoon sunning himself by their pool. For my dad, Florida was a place to indulge his love of sunbathing, ride the waves at the beach but most of all, play tennis. Jack found his passion on the tennis court. I don’t know how it all started but once he found the game, he was hooked. When my parents lived in Runnemede, Jack could be found multiple days a week at Green Acres, our local park. He would ride his bike holding his beloved dog Ziggy, a tennis racket and water cooler. I don’t know how he did it without killing himself. Once, while biking to Green Acres, he and Ziggy crashed. To save the dog, he managed to throw Ziggy to the curb while taking a pretty good spill. Bleeding but undeterred, they proceeded with caution to the tennis court where, more than likely, he beat his opponent. Jack was good! Anytime Chris, Dan and Byrne were together with my dad, he organized a game of doubles. Anyone who teamed up with Jack was ultimately the winner. Jack played competitively well into this 80’s having formed a lasting friendship with his regular doubles buddies. The four of them got together one last time the week before my parents moved to Florida.

Once my dad felt he could no longer play tennis at a competitive level, he pivoted to Pickleball. He started a Pickleball league in Holiday City encouraging literally everyone he met to join in. He was very persuasive! He didn’t care if you had never held a racquet. He would take the time to teach you the game. His legacy of tennis and Pickleball lives on!

My dad’s faith was very important to him and he truly lived a spiritual life. He went to mass every weekend and every holy day until a few months before he passed. I vividly remember as a young girl seeing my dad kneel against his bed every night and say his prayers. This of course changed after his double knee replacement! I remember how he helped me memorize my prayers in preparation for making my First Holy Communion. I don’t know why the church changed some of those prayers… I will always recite my dad’s version!

Jack had a naughty streak and playful sense of humor most likely inherited from his father, my Grandpop Pawela. I loved hearing the story of how my dad was in a wedding in his early 20s… apparently one of many. Too many in fact. The weddings were starting to interfere with his baseball schedule. So, my Grandpop hatched a plan for the two of them to slip away shortly after the ceremony. My grandfather, driving the getaway car, pulled around the back of the church. My dad jumped in, changed out of his tux and into his baseball uniform and off they went. Both of them took a lot of heat from the bride and my grandmother that day! But my Grandpop wouldn’t have it any other way. My dad brought that same naughty streak into his relationship with my mom. He loved to say things to get a rise out of her! But, he loved her deeply and they spent 66 wonderful years together. He knew for the last year of his life that his health was deteriorating and that it was only a matter of time. He would repeatedly say to me, “I’ve got to get your mother to Florida”. Somehow, he made it happen. When we got to the airport in Orlando on January 12th, he said “Thank God, we made it”. Such was his commitment to Pat.

Theirs was a chance meeting at a dance hall. My mom said to me recently that she couldn’t believe my dad had asked her to dance, he was so handsome and confident. His friends cautioned him about getting involved with someone so much younger. His parents thought he should marry a nice Polish girl, not an “American” like Pat. But he had other ideas and on November 2, 1957, they were married. Thirty plus years spent raising their family in Runnemede and then a new beginning in Holiday City, they created a wonderful life for themselves.

I will always remember the fun times my mom and dad had with their dear friends, the Prostkos, Poultons and Tricoccis. When money was tight, they would play cards around our dining room table, telling jokes and laughing the night away. The Halloween parties were legendary; dressing up as a sultan and Arabian princess, or another time as flappers from the 1920s. They knew how to have a good time! They had great neighbors as well, including the Monahans and Thatchers. Everyone was raising their kids figuring it out together. In the summer, we were told to be home before the street lights came on. Those were the good old days!

Jack was Grandpop to four lucky granddaughters. When my girls were little, he would play dolls with them and let them “style” his hair with clips, rubberbands and bows. As they got older, he taught them to play badmitton and then tennis. As adults, he would involve them in a game of Rummikub or Phase 10. Olivia and Amanda came along when Jack was older and so he would support their interests from the audience watching as they progressed through Karate, and Olivia’s performances. He was very proud of his girls!

That was my dad. He was a force for good in this world, loved by many, admired by all. We will miss you terribly but I know you are in a better place, looking down on us with your twinkly blue eyes and big, infectious smile.