FRIDAYS WITH CHARLIE

At 3 PM (CST) on Friday afternoons, for years, I had the opportunity to talk with Charlie Bercaw. Our conversations ended at 5 PM. Over the years, I learned that he was born on 9/11, that he  lived just on the other side of my grandmother’s  house in North Omaha, and that he spent most of his life living in  the Aksarben, and  Dundee area.

Charlie became my mentor. Although we were the same age and I had slightly more formal education, Charlie knew the most about history and related topics. When I gave my insights, Mr. Bercaw helped me to speak proper English and pronunciation.

From 1962 onward, we generally stayed in touch. From the days in the late 60’s when we watched that late David Suskind show with Jennifer, my wife and his first wife Jane, a bond was set.

He was a journalist, marketer, and middle manager and an accomplished musician. He was fortunate to have a group of friends that lasted a lifetime and he saw them last summer. I got a chance to see him too as we talked on our back porch that over looks the Cedar forest in Cedar Rapids. It was one of my finest afternoons.

Charlie loved to tell stories and I would bet serious money that over half of them were true!

Then he married Deb and she was his match. She in her own loving way was able to see so well that he sometimes wanted to be right rather than happy.

He loved his family. Unfortunately, his love was sometimes very clumsy, but he loved his sons and step daughters as well as Deb. He still was fond of his first wife and her second husband as well as his second wife’s first husband. However, it was Deb that helped him through the world. He even thought that he was running things when that was one of his illusions. Deb was mainly a few steps ahead of him.

His misfortune is that he became addicted to nicotine, tar, and smoke at around 13 years of age. He was told by the producers of the drug that it would make him appear mature and sophisticated. It was safe to use.  With this monkey on his back, he withered away.

To those who knew him as a lifetime or long time friend, it was our time and our generation. The daughters and sons of the “greatest generation” are beginning to pass into the ages. For us, we are at times rich in goods, but ragged in spirit. Hopefully, the eyes of history will judge us mercifully. Charlie was part of us. At 64, he died in the arms of Deb. I talked to him a few hours before he died by cell phone. The conversation was short as Charlie could barely talk. Then I said good bye to Deb.

Good night Charlie. We wish you well.