Uncle Vincent
T.J. Seitz
Copyright 2011 by T.J. Seitz
Smashwords Edition
Obituary for Vincent H. Kreckle
Bainbridge native Vincent H. Kreckle died suddenly on Tuesday December 7th 1999 from cardio-pulmonary complications. He was on his annual winter retreat in Miami, Florida.
Vincent was born June 22th, 1931 in Bainbridge, New York. He was the first son of Swiss immigrants Inge and Peter Kreckle.
He graduated from Bainbridge High School in 1949 and earned an Associates Degree in Drafting from Broome County Technical College. Vincent then enlisted for 4 years in the Army as a soldier in the Korean War where he earned the rank of sergeant.
During the years after his military service Vincent moved away from Bainbridge but kept his connections there strong. After a long career working for Haloid, Singer and Amway, Vincent returned to Bainbridge for retirement.
Vincent was pre-deceased by his brother Armand. He is survived by his sister Ute(Springer), brother in law, Marshall, sister-in-law Patrice, nieces JoAnne, Mary and Christine, nephews Robert and Richard along with their spouses and children
A gave-side memorial service will be held Flag Day weekend at his family plot at the Bainbridge Cemetery. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the Bainbridge Historical Society.
Introduction
One of the most complex persons I've ever known died last night. He might have begged to differ with me about being so complex though. Simplicity can be complicated and Vincent Kreckle was living proof.
After writing Uncle Vincent's obituary for the Tri-Town Newspaper I got an uneasy feeling. What is considered proper or standard for remembering someone didn't do him justice. I didn't want to forget who he really was. Ordinary obituaries only state the basic facts about people. They don’t give you much insight into their lives other than acknowledging family members and a vague timeline of events. Vincent deserved more than that.
People are more than just the innocuous things we remember about them. There is no such thing as a perfect person. Anyone who claims otherwise is a liar.
Neighbors and friends liked to tell Uncle Vincent about their day to day problems because he would patiently listen (though I highly doubt he actually remembered most of the details discussed). He frequently responded when asked about a conversation that the person he was talking to or their lives was very complicated and then end with the remark, "but not everyone can be perfect like me…, " meaning that he was not one to judge another.
People are an uneven compilation of many conflicting traits, attitudes and experiences, not the fiction evoked by their obituaries. Endearing, gloomy, disgusting, weird, irritating, noble and befuddling facets are all combined in different measurements to make up a single unique individual.
No one person has a compete picture of another. Numerous perceptions can exist simultaneously. Wives and children are even exempt from completely knowing the people that they believe they are closest to.
Uncle Vincent’s retirement community friends told many humorous stories about him at his Florida memorial service. His immediate family was oblivious and some were even embarrassed either by their own ignorance or what they felt was a lack of social etiquette for the circumstances. Patrice, my mother-in-law, questioned the legitimacy of the tales. She challenged the elderly tellers’ credibility by downplaying their mental state and ability to remember things correctly.
My mother-in-law and Aunt Ute were also very hurt by a rough draft of this piece that I shared with them several weeks after Vincent died. They were offended by its frankness.
Ute thought that the majority of what I said was fabricated. Mom read the first page then let Ute summarize the rest. Uncle Marshall refused to read it because he didn't want to take sides. He said (in his broken English) that, “Finzant ist gone und all da bickering in da verld uber vat happent voant change a ting. Let da pur manz speetitz vest in peez vor krists zake! ” I was very confused because nothing was written that I wouldn’t have talked to Vincent about in person or was joked about amongst his family, behind his back.
For many people it’s harder to see something in print versus just talking about it. Conversation does not have the same effect on them as reading. Discussion is often spontaneous and not as intentional as writing, especially in the heat of the moment. Writing reacts differently with memory and emotions than speech because printed words are not as fleeting as discourse. Words on a page appear more permanent in nature and their effect can be more difficult to change after they are read by an audience.
I read somewhere that dancing on someone's grave is not as horrible or disrespectful as society makes it out to be. It is much worse to not say anything, ignore or deny a dead person's former existence and passing spirit. Dancing on the grave of someone you once knew shows that you actually cared about them enough to go to their final resting place and dance for them instead of grieving.
Dancing can help a person reflect and purge. It’s a way to celebrate and acknowledge a person’s memory in death instead of dwelling on the loss. Openly writing about a person and their entire life, not just the good parts can have similar effects.
Christine's mother, aunt and uncle all live in Arizona. Time constraints, work and money made easy excuses for the absence of regular family gatherings during the past ten to fifteen years. Uncle Vincent lived the later part of his of life between Bainbridge, NY and Miami, FL. It was real easy for everyone to ignore or deny many truths about Vincent's life because they only saw him occasionally after moving West.
My relationship with Vincent was also constricted. I only knew him for a little under six years before he died, when his lack of ambition, indifference or laziness toward life caused his deterioration to become more exaggerated than during post-retirement years.
It was easy for Ute, Marshall and Patty to tolerate Vincent for a week or two every couple of years when he visited them because it was for a finite time period. Everyone put on their best behavior and Vincent was out of his comfort zone meaning worked hard at keeping up appearances so he wouldn’t upset his hosts. Visiting his homes or living with him as my wife Christine did at both of his residences was a whole different experience though.
Christine and I live in Saratoga Springs, NY. Since Vincent lived so close to us we'd go out of our way to spend time with him regularly in Bainbridge on weekends during warm Spring and Summer months. We also spent many Holidays with him down in Florida and at least two or three long weekends in the Fall and Winter there depending on our schedules. We saw firsthand how Uncle Vincent chose to live the last years of his life. Trips to Bainbridge became difficult for Christine because she did not like and refused to accept how Vincent was living compared to the pas
Uncle Vincent
My wife's uncle was very personable. It was hard not to like him yet he was often aggravating, especially when spending extended periods of time around him.
He would do things like repeat the same stories or ask the same questions over and over again. Even when you told him that you heard the story or mention that he asked the same question yesterday he would bluntly say, "Well I'm gonna tell you again," claim that he didn't remember the question (or your answer). For sanity's sake we’d frequently tune him out or cut conversations short.
Chris and I would often joke about tag teaming time with him. Those were instances where I would talk to him for an hour or so then abruptly (or discreetly) leave the room so that she could come in and talk to him for a while. The tactic made coping with visits easier.
Vincent was about average height. He had a very round head and beady brown eyes. His wire framed glasses were often held together with scotch tape and paper clips. He was almost bald; accept for a small tuff of brown hair on his forehead that enhanced his resemblance to the comic strip character Charlie Brown when he let it grow out. Vince also had a big flabby belly that drooped far over his waistline.
He walked with a slight limp in his left leg that was allegedly caused by some shrapnel the doctors forgot to remove from his time serving in Korea but other times he'd complain that it was just arthritis, asserting that he never saw combat while enlisted. Ute said he developed the limp after contracting and recovering from polio when he was ten.
His head and large hands were covered with many melanomas and dented discolored scars from the ones that were previously removed. He usually had a smirky smile and calm look in his eyes.
Uncle Vincent was far from an optimal role model but not a bad person and quite admirable in a weird way. His steadfast patience was both a blessing and an annoyance. Nothing ever seemed to upset him. We never truly knew what was going on inside his head. It was very frustrating at times. The only time he ever actually admitted to worrying was when we told him that our first baby, Sophie, had flipped into a breech position just before the delivery date.
He lived his life as he wanted and with little interference from others. If he felt like sleeping in, he slept in. If he wanted to travel he traveled. If he felt like getting up in the middle of the night to watch TV he did it. He didn't let his health or family concerns bother him enough to change his lifestyle or attitude. He called it a “quintessential bachelor’s life” and it suited him well.
I always wondered why he never got married or had a girlfriend. Christine was convinced that it was because no sane woman could tolerate being around him for very long. It was rumored that he was engaged for a few months during his early thirties but he abruptly ended it and the notion never crossed his mind again.
Vincent moved in with Christine's family after getting laid off from his job at Singer during the late 1970's. He lived with them in their childhood home that Chris' dad inherited after their father died. Vincent took over the household when Armand, his older brother (and my father in law), was killed in a car accident. Mom gave the property to Vincent and moved to Arizona to be closer to her in-laws Ute(Armand’s sister), Marshall(Ute’s husband) and their family. Chris and her sister, Mary, were attending college out of state at the time but were still welcome and chose to continue living there Summers, between semesters and on holidays.
Over the next few years the girls graduated and started down their own life paths, spending less time at the family estate. Vincent insisted on keeping the place and continued living there for part of the year, despite just purchasing a condo near Miami, Florida. He didn't want to sell, leave the house unattended for more than a few months at a time or rent it out to strangers.
He told everyone that he liked the idea of being a “snowbird.” I also think that he believed that one of his nieces or nephews might want to live there at some point in their lives. Unfortunately, no one but Christine shared the same level of sentimentality about the place as he did. To most in the family the property was just an old eyesore that needed to be sold.
Vincent didn't maintain the place as much as he should have and spent more time away than he initially planned. My wife and I ended up taking care of the place more than he did in the long run and that could only be done properly when Vincent was traveling or at his Florida residence. All we could do while he was home was basic cleaning and yard work. If we tried anything more extensive like painting a room or repairing a leaky faucet he'd just get in the way. Driving us batty with stories on how during the Depression his parents drew water from a well in the back yard and that they didn't have electricity installed in the house until 1942 because his father didn't trust it.
What we didn't tell him during those long drawn out discourses, because he probably wouldn't have listened, was that lots of work had been done to the house while he was not there. The entire electrical service was upgraded the year Chris and I got married. Chris was using a coffee pot when the appliance’s plug sparked and melted soon after it was turned on. The electrician we hired to fix the problem found a number of receptacles throughout the house where small fires had started from faulty wiring. He said that if we didn’t replace everything it would have been just a matter of time before the entire house would have burned down. Also three years ago we bought a new water heater. It was so nice to be able to wash the dishes AND take a long hot shower in the morning after dealing with an unreliable, jerry-rigged, vintage model from the 1950's.
After the electric problems were fixed Vincent would ponder out loud that he had no idea why his monthly utility bill went down so much but was afraid to ask anyone why. He thought that the power company made a mistake but didn't want to question the discrepancy too much. He didn't want to pay them back or have a defective meter replaced. He justified the predicament by stating that he needed the money more than the power company did.
The house was an analogy with his life. He hated change and had a tendency to let the little things go until it was too late to simply fix them. Instead of giving up cigar smoking and taking his medication Vincent continued to do as he pleased and eventually lost a lung to emphysema. Rather than waterproofing the front porch and calling an exterminator to get rid of some termites we had to have the whole thing torn down and rebuilt after a mailman fell through and threatened to sue Vincent for negligence.
Vincent claimed that he never had any true ambitions in life. He never knew what he wanted to be. His immigrant parents provided him with everything he needed and never pressed him to be more than he wanted to be. They even offered to pay his tuition to the college of his choice.
He attended college for a couple of years after graduating in 1949 from Bainbridge High School about 40 miles north of Binghamton, New York. Despite claiming he had no true aptitudes or driving interests he earned an Associates degree in Drafting from Broome County Technical College simply because that was what he thought he was supposed to do.
He then enlisted and spent four years in the army. Vincent frequently stated that he was not just a soldier in The Korean Conflict but also The Cold War. He was stationed in Korea, The Philippine Islands and Germany during his service. As in his civilian life he was assigned a number a jobs but never mastered or kept any of them for very long.
Uncle Vincent drove a supply truck, answered phones for an officer, guarded prisoners and was a German translator. He eventually earned the rank of sergeant because he followed orders well, showed up for work on time and kept his mouth shut. He always said he should have stayed and made a career of it.
Uncle Vincent definitely liked his booze. Manhattans were his drink of choice when dining out. I never saw Vincent drunk but it was never unusual to see him with a glass filled part way with some sort of spirit or wine, but strangely enough, never beer.
Even now in death as I write this piece his ashes are in the basement sitting on his favorite wooden rocking chair in a Royal Crown Whiskey box from his condo in Florida. The only boxes he ever had, according to Chris were from liquor stores.
Vincent used to send his extended family members refund checks from the many alcohol purchases he made. Since he was restricted by the one refund per household rule associated with most rebates he simply had the checks sent to one of us instead.
Chris thinks he picked the habit up when in the Army and was careful to hide his drinking vice until after his parents died. Afterward he was less secretive about doing it in front of his siblings and their children.
Vincent never really had a stable longstanding job besides his quality assurance position at Singer (where they shipped him back and forth across the country every couple of years). A college friend got Vincent a good drafting job at Gleason Works in Rochester after he was discharged from the army but he quit after working there only a few months.
A group of his army pals sporadically talked him into leaving the job and hitchhiking across the country. His parents were very embarrassed by his irresponsibility but kept their opinions to themselves. His siblings chastised him for them instead. Uncle Vincent called this his Beatnik stage of life and insisted that it was one of the best decisions he ever made.
He left with a dollar fifty in his pocket, some clothes, a toothbrush, his army issued duffel bag and a book of popular short novels. He returned home three years later with a handlebar mustache and goatee, a travel chest filled with remembrances, two hundred and forty dollars, lots of stories about his adventures and a job offer from The Haloid Photographic Company. Throughout his entire trip he went out of his way to send his parents a postcard from every town he visited, letting them know the weather and what he ate for his last meal.
Vince also had a business selling Amway products out of his garage after getting laid off from Singer but never put much effort into it. He liked being self-employed because it allowed him plenty of time to dawdle and hide in the garage, doing as little as possible. Vincent liked his space and not getting hassled too much. Despite his wishes he was frequently pressure by his brother and sister to be more aggressive.
Uncle Vincent frequently talked about how his parents moved to Bainbridge, NY from Switzerland to work for the Bendex Corporation located in Sidney, NY a town about five miles from Bainbridge. The company had Swiss roots and was recruiting employees from its owners’ home country.
His father, Peter, was an Engineer for the company and his mother , Inge, was a homemaker. Vincent would occasionally bring up that he wished he'd asked his parents what exactly drew them to first move to South Africa then back to Switzerland before settling permanently in Bainbridge, NY. They lived in Johannesburg for just two years and rarely talked about their stay.
Vincent was proud of his Swiss heritage. He hung a Swiss flag along side the American one every morning. He told neighbors to check in on him if the flag was not hung early in the day.
Uncle Vincent lived up to his Swiss heritage right up to the end. He was always un-judgmental and almost too patient with people. He was a neutral fence rider through and through with no clear opinion about anything other than stating what would generally be considered polite and inoffensive.
He didn't know a lot of intimate things about his parents, siblings or family's past because he didn't think to ask. He only knew facts about their daily routines and what they told him. He had a well rehearsed series of polite questions he would ask almost everyone he met from a criminal to a saint and would sometimes take notes(which he would lose in the stacks of junk scattered all over his two residences). Some examples of his questions were, "Are you a native of this community? What is your vocation/what do you do for a living?" and "Are you a student? What are you studying?"
Vincent was humble and never pretended to be more than himself. He never pried and minded his own business but expected the same in return. He would politely avoid or change the subject when asked something too private.
He would remember the name of a little old lady who sold eggs house to house in his neighborhood during the early 1940’s or the color of a buddy's socks on the golf course six months ago but not something important or meaningful you told him two weeks ago.
He used to like to talk people's ears off. He frequently started discussions with the comments, "Not a very interesting story" or "To make a long story short." That statement was really contrary his intentions and really meant "To make a short story long." Talking to Uncle Vincent was like sailing with Magellan. Instead of circumnavigating the world, Vince circumnavigated conversations.
To make small talk Vince would sometimes pick modern slang words he was unfamiliar with and dwell on their meaning. Words like weird, tacky or nerd in a conversation would evoke the response of, "Now lets take that word 'geek' that you just used. What exactly does that mean?"
Uncle Vincent would repeat parts of recently completed sentences and phrases as quotes during inappropriate or illogical times. He would say things like, "I watered your QUOTE garden" or "I read the QUOTE user manual again."
During phone calls Vincent would introduce himself by saying, "Hello dear niece or brother-in-law. This is your dear uncle or brother-in-law calling." He would end conversations with, "Do you have any questions?"
When greeting family members, Vincent would put his arms straight out with his hands on their shoulders, instead of hugging them. Sometimes he would welcome his nieces or sister by puckering up his lips for a quick, tight lipped peck kiss and say, "Hello dear sister or niece." Then proceed to ask which route they took to get there (and predictable comment on his preferred route).
Vince claimed to never have a worry, just concerns. He had lots of health problems like emphysema and skin cancer but never let them bother himself or others. He simply slowed his pace down and compromised. Since he couldn't walk more than twenty feet without loosing his breath he would walk a little then rest or just drive as close as possible to his intended destination. When his glucose levels were high he'd stop eating sugar until the next test, test fine then go back to eating sugar again. He looked and sounded like a wreck with one foot in the grave but I quickly forgot that over time until he really did die
He was the king of procrastination and saying they he would do something and never get to it. He would frequently say, "Why do something today that can be done tomorrow." Vincent intended to do lots of organization but his homes were always a disaster until Ute, Mom or Chris and I his came to visit and cleaned up for him instead. He really hated the notion of throwing stuff out.
He knew his piles of junk bothered Chris. To push her buttons he'd factiously joke that he'd categorize recently acquired items under the first letter of what ever it was. "I'll file this old brochure on Toledo Ohio under 'B' for brochure."
One example of something he hoarded needlessly was a Red Lobster menu from the mid-1970's. He had the thing memorized and frequently quoted prices from it when eating at seafood restaurants. If he went to Red Lobster he would frequently taunt the waitresses with comments like the price of a shrimp scampi platter being $6.99 in 1974 but today its $17.99 or ask if they would honor the prices on an old menu.
Whenever anyone mentioned that they ate dinner/breakfast at Denny's he'd ask if them if they ordered the Grand Slam then state that the selection consisted of, 2 eggs, 2 pancakes, 2 sausage or bacon and juice or coffee.
On a visit to Florida Chris and Vincent went to Perkins for dinner. Vince's breathing problems prevented him from moving too fast. In many instances when he needed to go to the bathroom it became problematic because he could not move fast enough. This was one of those times. Instead of hustling to the restaurant bathroom just a few feet away Vincent relieved himself in an empty coffee can he kept in the back seat of his car, right there in public. Chris was both mortified and humiliated. Uncle Vincent accepted his behavior as just a reality of his condition and saw nothing wrong with it.
Vincent hated to bother people, including himself. I think he would have been perfectly content eating cereal and milk with a glass of water for breakfast lunch and diner, 7 days a week if he was allowed to.
Vince never wasted food. He could have easily thrown spoiled produce and baked goods out and replaced it all with a trip to the grocery store but he chose not to. He claimed it was because he lived through the Depression when food was scarce. His refrigerator was always full of overripe fruits and vegetables from the last visit Chris and I made. He ate stale and moldy bread by toasting it and scraping off the bad parts. He'd comment, "Mold, that's just penicillin."
Whenever we ate out for dinner Vincent would always bring half of it home for later, no matter how small the portion. This included mushy salads, rolls, butter and sugar packets.
On some occasions Vince would spontaneously comment, in hushed confidence, about his daily constitution. "Not a pleasant topic but that Madamusil stuff really worked well for me. Now I'm completely the other way and need Pepto Bismo."
My first impression of him was not good. He crapped his pants and left a brown stain on the seat of my brand new car. It happened soon after Chris and I started dating on the day she introduced him to me. We had just gotten back from a trip to Walmart. He acted oblivious to the whole thing and walked into the house and sat down in the kitchen as if nothing unusual happened.
After examining the spot more closely we determined from its smell and consistency that it was probably shit. She was embarrassed by the experience. It was a foreshadowing moment. She told me in disgust afterward that she didn't think he would live another five years if he continued to live his life so carelessly. She was right but only off a year.
He preferred to bath in aqua-velva over soap and water. Chris once asked him if he enjoyed feeling clean after a bath or shower. Dad responded, "Not particularly." He washed his tattered undersized clothing in styles from twenty years ago once a month whether they needed it or not. He ordered the same clothes and styles from mail order catalogues rather than going to the store. He washed his hats in the dishwasher.
Vincent slept in his parent's old room. His parents' clothes in the dressers and closets were left untouched over the years. Everything in the bedroom was left in place as it was when they were alive. Both of his parent's died in the early-1970's.
I always wondered why Chris' parents didn't throw the stuff out or donate it to the Salvation Army when they moved in. Chris said that her parents and aunt believed that the room was haunted. Both Oma and Opa died in their bed. I guess no one wanted to risk disturbing their spirits.
Uncle Vincent respected the room's sanctity by living around its contents. The old paintings and portraits on the walls and dressers were covered with dust and cobwebs. They had not been polished or cleaned for decades. He stored his day too day stuff in stacked boxes, milk crates and laundry baskets on the floor.
He was anally meticulous about performing regular preventative maintenance on mechanical things he owned like the car and lawnmower. He'd always ask us when the last time we checked the oil, air pressure in the tires or greased something's axle. It drove me nuts but he did have a legitimate point.
He was not the same when it came to caring for the house or himself. He'd get to those things only when pressured by someone or he could no longer work around the problem. When I started dating Chris six years ago the home in Bainbridge had a huge old stove in the kitchen where the lower oven section did not work. He'd use a small electric toaster oven instead. The wall paper was peeling in many rooms. The wires in live outlets and switches were left dangerously exposed. The upstairs bathroom sink had a leak that Vincent used a bucket to catch the water from and the tub needed re-caulking. The bathtub leak caused the plaster ceiling in the kitchen below to disintegrate in several places. He'd flush his broken toilets with buckets of water drawn from the bathtub instead of getting it fixed.
Uncle Vincent liked a warm plate for his food. In restaurants he would always comment on the temperature of the plate he received his meal on. To achieve the same effect at home he'd heat good china plates, the set his parents got as a wedding gift, directly on the electric burners of the obsolete stove to achieve the desired effect. More than one of them blew up from the intense heat. It drove Chris and Mom nuts. He continued using the good China even after Mom went out of her way to buy a set of cheap set of dishes for him from a Syracuse China Outlet store. He defended his behavior by saying that he didn't want to wreck the new dishes.
Vincent was very generous. He knew about all of the good restaurants wherever he stayed. He frequently paid for dinners and was a great tipper when we dined out. When we bought our house he helped us furnish it by letting us take some of the old furniture and household stuff from around the Bainbridge home that he didn't use anymore. The gesture saved us a lot of money.
Uncle Vincent was a safe and meticulous driver. He taught Chris and her sister how to drive early. He didn't care about licenses or permits and gradually moved them from dirt roads to highways as their proficiencies improved. He had standard speeches about not tailgating, following the speed limit, avoid any potential hazards, using turn signals and being a defensive driver he would give while riding with his kids. He'd also reciprocate and ask passengers to be backseat drivers.
I had lots of on-going debates with the guy that we will now never resolve. I had an article on my desk to send to him stating that it's ok to have a resume that was more than one page. He started that topic when I asked him for Chris' hand in marriage, her father(Armand) died just before I met her. It was the perfect opportunity for him to hold my attention for as long as he wanted. Chris' sister Mary was leaping in the room window behind him to see what was taking so long. We were all planning on going out for a few drinks at a nearby bar and the proposal conversation was not supposed to take more than a few minutes.
Vince never got a chance to test me on his theory that one could not taste the difference between instant and brewed coffee. He threatened to try it on me secretly, “one of these days.”
Another one was about the roto-tiller he gave us. I would start it then release the tiller before the wheels. Vincent quickly pointed out to me the directions said to start the wheels then the tiller. My response to him was it really didn't matter but he did more research and pointed out that the order really did matter otherwise belts and gears would be unnecessarily worn.
After meeting him he used to ask me questions about my work in computers. He was especially curious about the internet. I gave him an old laptop to learn basic PC skills and showed him how to use the internet. He was not the least bit interested in the laptop, he said he was too old to learn how to use that but he contradicted himself by purchasing a Web TV unit and learning how to browse the internet. I found out after he died that he taught many of his neighbors and friends about surfing the internet and using e-mail once he became proficient.
Vince clearly labeled the TV, VCR and Web TV connections every year so when he came back the next Spring and got the services turned back on he could easily set everything back up. It never failed though, every year after returning he would accidentally reverse cables or not label something correctly and need my help to get the sound or picture working correctly on his A/V setup.
Conclusion
I guess all the medical problems he never worried about or downplayed finally caught up to him. Chris and I wondered if he knew this. There were signs but none of us noticed them. The last time we saw him he was behaving strangely. He seemed more emotional than usual, hugging Chris and our daughter Sophie. He went out of his way to shake my hand and pat me on the back just before we left the restaurant we ate at, which he had never done before. Also his best friend Howie in Bainbridge said that Vince left more thorough directions on how to turn the furnace on and un-winterize the house.
A neighbor offered to bring him to the doctor on Tuesday after he arrived in Florida because he didn't look good. Vince just said he had food poisoning from a taco he ate that was left out overnight in his car on his annual migration trip from his NY to Florida residence.
Yesterday afternoon someone found him on the floor disoriented and called for an ambulance. My wife was called by a friend of his but Vincent asked the person calling us to downplay the whole situation because he didn’t want anyone to needlessly worry.
Everything sounded ok at that point but when Chris called the hospital later in the evening to see how things were going the nurse on duty frankly said that he passed away about an hour and a half ago from heart failure.
Vince was badly dehydrated, had kidney failure, and a cold that developed into pneumonia. The doctors also think he probably had a heart attack since arriving there last week. Those factors combined with his breathing problems compounded the situation. His body could not take any more stress (not enough oxygen to his heart probably) and died.
I will miss the guy despite all of his annoying idiosyncrasies. I'm still having a hard time getting the notion out of my head that he died so quickly and unexpectedly for being such a slow paced single minded person. He never did anything quickly before this. I figured he'd have the grim reaper reluctantly waiting for him to put his socks on and before getting the second one on drive him out of the room in frustration with an endless series of mundane questions/statements about whatever was crossing his mind at that moment.