I am hoping to do more of this in the near future. I am planning on possibly starting up a new blog with news pieces I do on my own time, and perhaps photos I take for my own personal use.
I am going to try and make everything "Journalism-correct" format wise, so please forgive the formality. Here goes...
By CHRISTOPHER FORTIER
Columnist
Have you ever had a lucid dream?Recently, I had one so real I awoke in tears.
It involved my maternal grandfather, Oreste “Rusty” Chindemi.
I was given the chance to travel to any point in time for one full year, and I chose to travel back to Jan. 15, 1976, exactly 12 months before I was born.
I took a job at his bar, Rusty’s Steakhouse and Tavern, on King st. in Welland, which is now called Trappers, I believe.
I spent the next year getting to know my grandfather in a way I had in my first 25 years of life, and I was much more appreciative of the chance to get to know him in this way. He taught me a lot of the things in that year he taught me growing up, and every day felt so real that when it came time for me to leave on Jan 15, 1977, My birthday, I explained to him I had to return home, never explaining to him where I was from or who I really was. I looked into his eyes for what would be the last time, He said to me the same thing he did many times in my life.
“I know, son. Just remember to be who you are supposed to be, and not what others want you to be.”
He knew who I was the whole time, and never chose to say anything about it.
I awoke almost immediately. It was 3 a.m. and I was in tears.
Rusty died on Sept. 1, 2002. After suffering a massive stroke two days earlier, he slipped into a coma, and we were told he wasn’t going to make it.
It was one of the hardest times of my life.
Not one day has passed in the eight years since when I haven’t thought about how much I miss him. He was always more than just a grandfather to me. He was like a second father. He was also one of my best friends growing up, and even into my 20s, he was always my first choice to take to a Blue Jays game whenever I got tickets.
My love for baseball and for movies comes from him. The fact that I am as trivia smart as I am comes from the countless hours of watching Jeopardy with him.
There are times that I'll say "I don't care for that," just like him. Because Rusty never hated anything. He simply didn't care for it.
I remember when I was 14. He and I drove down to Florida for two weeks. Just us two boys heading down in a 1989 Chevrolet Corsica to the Sunshine State. I also remember the trip back when I fell asleep, and he took a wrong turn and went almost one-third of the way back to Florida.
He always drove straight through, stopping only for food or gas.
I remember when Nathalie, my ex-wife, and I drove home from Florida on our honeymoon.
We drove straight through in his 2001 Dodge Caravan, which I still drive today, 20 hours, 57 minutes. Rusty was watching over us that day.
I also remember telling my grandmother about driving straight through and her saying
“Jesus Christ, Chris. You’re just like your grandfather.”
It wasn’t meant as a compliment, but I took it as one.
Nothing makes me prouder than when someone says that to me.
I wish that he were still here today.
If I needed advice or someone to talk to, he was the first person I would want to turn to. He was never an academic, but he always seemed to know exactly what to say to motivate me. Maybe it’s all of those years being a bartender that just gave him a sage-like ability to dispense advice.
There have been so many things that he’s missed in the last eight years.
I remember breaking down and crying at my wedding, one year later. I missed him so much, and wished more than anything he was there.
I wish he were around to see the birth of my daughter, Chloe, as well as the births of my niece, Elizabeth, and nephew, Ethan. He’d have been one hell of a great-grandfather.
I wish he’d call me up, like he did every Monday, to come over to take him shopping. We’d go to Pupo’s and Wal-Mart and then, on occasion, take a trip to visit his brothers Rocky or Way, and I would just sit there and smile.
I never felt out of place around him.
His funeral was one of the hardest days of my life. I specifically remember my Aunty Ang consoling me for most of the day.
We were so close that when he died, some people referred to Rusty as my dad. Which was odd, because I was standing next to my father when they’d say that. But it was because we spent so much time together that at least in part, it was true.
I have a great father as it is, and nothing makes me happier then to see that same relationship developing between my father and my daughter, because there’s nothing better than the relationship between a grandfather and their grandchild. I hope one day to experience that from the other side.
I hope I’m making you proud, Grandpa, because I have always tried my best to be who I am supposed to be, and not what others want me to be.
I miss you every day, Rusty.
