The Love and Laughter of a Legendary Man: Gus New

Thank you for meeting with us today as we say goodbye to an incredible man, my beloved uncle, Gus New… 

As small children, my brother and I lived far away from the majority of Momma’s family, so our trips to NC to visit were exciting adventures. I could not WAIT to jump from the van and run straight into the arms of Granny and Pop. Once we’d all hugged, kissed, and exchanged greetings… it was time to do what our family does best. Eat… and we’d chow down on fried potatoes, chicken and dumplings, and collard greens… and while the adults sat back and talked… I’d bounce around in my chair, antsy and ready to go… Ready to see Uncle Gus and Aunt Carolyn.

When I was a child, no one lived larger in my mind than Uncle Gus… a loud, amiable, affable, quick-witted and hilarious big bear of a man who emanated love and laughter.

Aunt Carolyn and Uncle Gus

As soon as I’d draw a bead on him, I’d haul little white girl tail to run and jump and FLY into his arms. He’d wrap both tightly around me, swing me around, tiny little toes feeling the whoosh of air as I was spun, and I’d snuggle up into the space between his shoulder and chin as he’d croon softly, “Hey there… how’s my little shug?”

And so it was with Uncle Gus and me… when we were together, I was his shadow. I worshipped him… I wanted to be just like him… fun, spontaneous, loving, and hilarious. One summer night when we’d packed the car full… and I MEAN full of folks: Momma, Billy, AnnMarie, Chris, Aunt Carolyn, Uncle Gus and me, we kids chatted back and forth until AnnMarie looked me dead in the eye and asked, “Marji? How come you talk so funny?” I was stunned for just a second… before I, for the first time ever, channeled my uncle and replied, “I can talk like y’all, too.”

There was dead silence in the car… broken by Uncle Gus breaking the sound barrier with a gut busting belly laugh.

“I’ll be durned, Carolyn… You are right… she IS just like me.” And so it began… the family now officially had two smart alecks… two cuts ups… two peas in a pod determined to make EVERY family occasion a festive one. And we became partners in chaos, too. Over the years, Uncle Gus and I have gotten into more trouble with Momma… just for being us.

I remember one Christmas when Gus decided to take us all to see the Meadows Lights for the first time. Prior to heading there, though, we stopped by McDonald’s first, and had our fill of Big Macs, fries, and Cokes… Somewhere, somehow, Uncle Gus and I decided we needed to appear more festive, so we turned those McDonald’s paper bags upside down, rolled the lip back about an inch, and placed them on our heads. And then we began singing. And singing… we sang every carol we could remember… and by the time we’d reached Meadows, we were in high form… giggling, laughing, and admiring each other’s head gear. Once we slowed down to see the sights, we rolled down the windows, stuck our heads out, and talked to ANYONE near us… wishing them a Merry Christmas, singing to them, and speaking in British accents… just because. By this point, most of the family entourage had also donned McDonald’s bags… except for Mom. To this day, I don’t think Mom can describe the Meadows Lights… because she scooched down in the seats, attempting to hide and not let ANYONE know she was related to us.

But… Uncle Gus never let Momma entirely off the hook. When she was completely relaxed, completely comfortable, he’d imitate a gorilla, waddle up behind her, and begin ‘grooming’ her hair for bugs he could eat. GUUUUUUS!!! Momma would screech! This was just about the only trick of his I have never copied… because Momma said she’d come back and haunt me one day if I did. I take that kind of threat right seriously. 

Always in the background... embracing us all.

But my… the FUN we had. Late last night, after I had fallen asleep, my husband sent me an email, and he wrote, “Honey… I know why you loved your uncle so much… because you are just like him… a big kid who embraces life, lives to the fullest, and seeks fun and adventure at every turn.

Mark is probably right… Uncle Gus was the biggest kid I have ever known. In fact, to my knowledge, there were only two serious subjects in his life… Vietnam (which he rarely discussed) and Fishing. Yes, you heard me…. Fishing. Aquatic life in every body of water, ocean, sea, pond, lake… and even fish bowls… bubbled sighs of relief this week when it went through the underwater grapevine that the Great White Fisherman had gone to troll the waters of Heaven.

Fishing at Mom and Dad's place on the Rappahannock River. 

Gus was THE fisherman… fish feared him… for he could catch anything… and he would go to extremes to do so. Think I’m kidding? Just ask his son, Christopher, and my brother, Billy, about the night they went pier fishing with Uncle Gus. The weather was brutal, the wind was whipping sand and sea spray at them like a sandblaster cleaning an aging pick-up truck. Bill and Chris took cover behind the pier’s benches, but Uncle Gus stood resolute, a sentinel in the night, armed with a surf rod and a case of Coca-Cola. And he didn’t catch a daggone fish. Not one. Did he despair? Nope… they stayed the whole night, Billy and Chris hunkered down behind weathered wooden benches, and Gus facing the fury of the storm… just in CASE they might start biting.

Another time, Uncle Gus and Aunt Carolyn took a foray to the Outer Banks for a bit of surf fishing. Pole in hand, Gus stood facing the ocean, ready for that tug to wake his reflexes and begin battle. Aunt Carolyn, meanwhile, meandered the shoreline, looking for pretty shells and stones, and playing in the waves. And then… dum, dum, DUM!!! Disaster struck. A rogue wave built up, smacked Carolyn, and knocked her tail over teacups into the ocean. GUS! She hollered, GUS!

Being a man of action, he quickly ran to her and snatched her by the drawers with his left hand… holding her high enough out of the surf so she didn’t drown. As Uncle Gus relayed this story, later, to us, my husband, Mark, asked, “did you lose the pole?” “Son,” Uncle Gus declared solemnly, “a man never lays down his surf rod. We waited until another man walked up the beach, saw me holding the fishing pole in one hand and my wife by her bloomers in my other. He was kind enough to assist me.”

After this conversation, Uncle Gus figured my poor husband just didn’t understand the fundamentals of fishing, and he took it upon himself to educate Mark. He put together a surf rod package and gear for us right before we headed to the OBX for our first vacation as a married couple. But, you see, Uncle Gus and Mark had a special relationship… They were close… Uncle Gus taught Mark how to be a master at the art of cooking a hog… and Mark was his eager apprentice. Each year, Uncle Gus would turn over more and more duties to Mark until Mark was ready to fly solo. It was a special day, indeed, for Mark.

But, don’t think Mark escaped unscathed. He, just like every other person Uncle Gus loved, fell victim to one of Gus’ antics. In fact, on our wedding night, right as Mark and I were stepping outside of the reception to head off in our car, Uncle Gus stopped him and announced, officially, that he was ready to make Mark a full-fledged member of the family.

And right there, in front of all our guests, Uncle Gus grabbed Mark’s belt… and dumped an entire cup of birdseed down the pants of Mark’s tuxedo.

While many wives have special memories of their wedding night… the first one that comes to MY mind is that of showering my husband down with the bathroom hose attachment in an attempt to remove those dang seeds. They. Were. Everywhere. We might have been able to get them off faster, but Mark and I were laughing too dang hard to be overly efficient. Once again, my uncle had made sure that even my wedding night would be a balance of love AND laughter.

As the years go by, I know I will think of Uncle Gus often… I will never enjoy a moment of fireworks lighting the sky without remembering the 4^th of July when an errant rocket flew off course, headed straight for me and Uncle Gus, and we dove to the dirt all while Gus was screaming, “Fire in the hole!!”  I will not be able to make peanut brittle or wield a cast iron pan without remembering the two of us huddled over Granny’s stove, me stirring while he listened for peanuts popping. Whenever Mark complains about getting a belly, I will think of Uncle Gus and his Dunlop disease… ‘cause his belly done lopped over his belt. I will not have a bad cold without wanting to pronounce to the world that I am suffering the collard du mompas. I will laugh at folks who claim to be experts because I will recall him teaching me that an ex is a has been and a spurt is a tiny drop of water. When I struggle to lift something, I will hear his voice chastising me, “Girl, you don’t have enough tail to move that. Eat a cheeseburger.”

Uncle Gus during is Tour of Duty in Vietnam.

When I watch specials about Vietnam, I will recall our trip to the Veteran’s Wall and helping him find a fellow by the name of Kermit. I will see him in my mind’s eye talking quietly to the young lady who stopped us and asked, “Sir, were you there?” And I will remember how he quietly and gently spoke with her about what he saw. And I will remember that his kindness to her was emblematic of the kindness and consideration he showed everyone. 

I will remember the day I was struck with a migraine while visiting him in Newton Grove and how he drove straight to the pharmacy to find relief for me. When the pharmacist asked if I had a prescription, Gus replied with, “that child is lying on my bathroom floor and she has passed out from pain. You WILL give me something, with or without a prescription.” I don’t know what Uncle Gus got, but I remember waking up with him cradling me, dribbling Coke down my throat followed by a large capsule. Fifteen minutes later, I was out of pain.

And that is who he was… and who he will always be. A man filled with laughter and love. If you ever forget this, just look at the many photos our family treasures of Uncle Gus. In almost everyone, he is the one standing or kneeling at the back with a smile beaming across his face… letting us know that he always had our backs… and now that he and his fishing rods have been packed for the trip to heaven, he always will.

 Thank you, Uncle Gus, for loving me… for teaching me that laughter IS the best medicine… and for showing me that if we laugh while we stick together, we can weather any storm. You, Sir, are my hero. 

Uncle Gus was honored at his funeral by two members of the Army who played Taps, folded the American flag, and presented it in ritual form to Aunt Carolyn. It was impressive... We plan on sending a letter of appreciation to thank them for the manner in which these two men carried out their duties to show military respect for Uncle Gus.