Uncle Nelu, March 2021 With his youngest sister, Elena |
Nelu was
born in 1940, a child who experienced the German occupation of the village and
the communist occupation later. He was a child but had vivid memories of those
times. The communist party did not see him in a positive light as nobody in our
family was a member of the communist party or aspired to be one, they supported
the monarchy and the times when the country was rich, and the people were self-sufficient
and happy.
Mom and I
talked to Uncle Nelu two months ago on a warm October 18 morning, on the patio
of her nursing home. It was amazing how clear, cheerful, and happy his voice
sounded. He had just returned from the grocery store, pushing his little cart
of supplies.
At 81, he
was vigorous enough to walk quite far to the local grocery store, to bring back
food to his ailing wife who can barely walk and has not left their fifth floor Bucharest
apartment in two years.
He told my mom
that day that he had just had his booster Covid-19 shot and we should do the same
as soon as possible. We talked about family, health, and the latest news.
It is
amazing how a tiny cell phone could connect us from anywhere in the world outside
on the patio and cheaply. We have cheap, fast, and reliable technology now but
there are fewer and fewer relatives to whom we can talk.
There was a
time when making a call was awfully expensive per minute, few people could
afford it, it was time consuming, and required the intercession of an overseas
operator, and sometimes 24 hours to make a connection that did not sound garbled
like we were speaking from a barrel at the bottom of the ocean.
There was
also a time, thirty years ago, when all phone calls under communism were listened to by a human
being who decided whether the call was important enough to record and file on
record for later use. Now, they record everything automatically in that
mythical I-cloud in the sky.
Uncle Nelu
had a “vascular accident,” meaning a blood clot to his brain, a few days
following his booster. Due to his age and the benign tumor removed from his
brain ten years prior, it was easy to assume that his stroke was a natural
occurrence. But it was so close to his Covid-19 booster that one must wonder. He
clung to life for two months, paralyzed on one side.
Ion Ilie was
a remarkable person who completed his engineering degree while working part-time
as a mechanic. Grandpa Ilie had taught him how to be the outstanding mechanic
who could fix anything.
Recognizing
a natural talent, Grandpa Ilie devoted more time and monetary investment to his
youngest son who had the gift of invention. His extensive list of accomplishments
fills the government files dedicated to his engineering life.
Sadly, he
never climbed to the top; his non-communist background became an issue for the
communists in power who decided the fate of those working and creating
engineering marvels in their communist machine. He was a useful cog but not
worthy of promotions.
Uncle Nelu
made Christmas magical for me when I was 17 years old. Painstakingly he wired and
soldered a hundred or more tiny white bulbs with thin copper strands who fell
down the branches of the blue spruce tree like a cascade of moving lights,
controlled by a relay.
His
engineering skills were so exceptional that he was often called upon by appellate
judges to make decisions and testify about accidents he investigated. His painstaking
measurements and technical analysis often decided the outcome of a trial and
the fate of those involved in terrible industrial and road accidents.
Uncle Nelu
helped many people in our extended family with advice, volunteer work, money,
and emotional support.
He visited
us twice in 1990 while we lived in the southern U.S. I flew with him to San Diego,
to show him the western side of this beautiful country and we took a day trip
to Tijuana, Mexico. He was fifty years old, full of life, jocular, sun-tanned,
tall, and was confused for a Mexican even though he spoke no Spanish and no
English. We laughed about it because we were prepared and brought our passports
with us to cross the border from Mexico back into the U.S.
The world
has lost another brilliant mind. He will be sorely missed by our family.
I personally
hope he is in Heaven, advising God on how to fix his engines.
NOTE: Uncle Nelu never cared much for my writing because, he said, what good is it, nobody in Romania can read English, why don't you write it in Romanian?
My answer to him was, because Romanians have already experienced what I am writing about, I would be preaching to the choir.
Prayers up for Uncle Nelu!
ReplyDeleteGod bless him!
ReplyDeleteI’m sorry for your loss, Ileana. I’m sure he would have loved your tribute. I did.
ReplyDeleteJoy Porter Nicholls