Art

ART CAFARELLI October 31, 1945-February 15, 2024

It's all good.

I heard Art say that a lot. Man of few words. Art would say "It's all good," and repeat it to emphasize it. Don't worry about me. Don't worry about anything. It's all good. That said it all.

Maybe that's just what a big brother does. It's all good.

I was a pesky and annoying little brother. Looking back, man, I'M annoyed by me. I'm grateful that Art let me live long enough to grow out of that phase. I was blessed with three wonderful siblings. Living up to their example was a daunting task, as Mom and Dad occasionally reminded me. "You know, when your brother Art was your age....," "When your brother Rob was your age...," "When your sister Denise was your age...." I'd reply, "Yeah, I know. And someday I'll get even with them!"

I never got even. But I think I got better than I was, and certainly better than I would have been without their example. It's all good.

I have so many memories of Art, and it's odd the random things that stand out in my mind. One big thing was one of Art's old cars. Some of you know the one I mean. The RED one. The luckless Alfa Romeo that Art had in the '60s, the one that wound up laying in state beyond the shed way behind our house, until a tow truck finally whisked it off to that great big scrapyard in the sky.

But when the Alfa Romeo was still alive and kicking, I remember Art taking me to A & W for a burger, onion rings, and a root beer. Mostly, I remember that radio. That radio! 1966, the dial locked on WNDR-AM in Syracuse, Top 40, playing the hits. The Dave Clark Five. And the Bobby Fuller Four, singing "I fought the law, and the law won." Indelible memory. And it seemed as if the only place I ever heard "I Fought The Law," that great song, was when I was with Art in his star-crossed Alfa Romeo. At the age of six, I concluded that the radio in Art's car had to be magic.

And I was right. You have no idea how important that was to me, how much of an influence it was on my eventual decision to write about pop music. A magic radio in my big brother's car . It's all good.

Not quite four decades later, in 2004, the radio was on in Art's car--a somewhat newer model--as he drove Rob and I from Columbus to Aurora, Missouri for our grandmother's funeral. The driver controls the radio. Art was the driver, and that meant the radio was playing country music.

I hate country music. But that's beside the point. We were together, the three brothers, representing family, supporting those still with us, bidding farewell to those who'd passed. Art and Rob bought chicken gizzards at the Starlite Drive-In, and shared them with family gathered at our grandmother's house. We hit Sonic on the way back and ate in the car as we rode back to Ohio. Country music on the radio. It was a great trip in spite of everything else. It's all good.

In the '60s, when Art was babysitting pesky 'n' annoying kid brother me, he sometimes took me to Sears, where his friend Terry worked, and let me watch Batman on the TVs there. In COLOR!! It just occurred to that I think Art was the reason I ever watched Batman in the first place, a seismic event in my life, leading to a deep interest in comic books and eventually in becoming a writer. All good? You better believe that's all good.

Both music and sports were big in my family. Dad took me to baseball games, coached Little League, and had me work--or TRY to work--with him at the ballpark for the Triple-A Syracuse Chiefs. Art and Rob had done that work before my time came. Mom took me to musicals. Denise took me to a football game. Rob tried to teach me how to throw a football. 

Art took me to my first (and only) hockey game, to see the Syracuse Blazers in the '70s. He took me to lift weights and exercise. He encouraged me to try out for the high school football team. That...wasn't gonna happen. Not in this real world. He also took me to Fulton, a more rural area north of our home in the Syracuse suburbs, to practice my driving skills. He and Patty sometimes had me over to their apartment on Bear Road.

Patty.

When Art first started dating Patty, Mom asked him, "Art--isn't she a little too young?" It is the only time I can look back and conclude that Mom was ever wrong about anything. And Mom would agree. She knew Patty, she accepted Patty, and not just as a daughter-in-law; as a daughter. It was the model for what would happen with all of the subsequent outlaws who married into this family after Patty led the way, with Barb, Tony, and Brenda. Family. It's all good.

Art and Patty raised three wonderful, absolutely magnificent sons, Michael, Robbie, and Matt. When Matt called me two weeks ago to tell me that my brother, his Dad, had passed, I told people at work about how my nephews are just rock-solid, salt of the earth. A coworker immediately said, "Well, that's a credit to their parents."

Yes. That's a legacy. Art and Patty created a legacy. Even now, with Art and Patty gone, that legacy continues.

That's the nature of legacy. That's the nature, the beauty, of family.

We're always going to miss you, Art, you great,. proud Italian-American hillbilly. Please say hi to Mom and Dad for us. Say hi to Patty. Say hi to everyone. You know what to do. You always knew what to do.

It's all good.

It's all good.

It has to be.

I love you, Art.