my uncle harry passed away overnight sunday.

he was a wonderful man, and i’ll carry his memory with me.

i always remembered uncle harry as a strong man, a rich man, a funny man. he had a house with a pool — which, as a kid, felt like the height of luxury. i remember bartending my mom’s surprise 40th birthday party (yes 40th! it felt like she was so old then!) when i was 12 in uncle harry’s basement bar with my grade-school best friend, brian ostick. we had absolutely no idea what we were doing. but i fondly remember uncle harry continuously tipping us for every drink he “ordered,” right after telling us how to mix it (and basically mixing it himself). he was a generous man.

but he was also the guy my dad would send me to whenever i had a business idea and needed the real answer. not encouragement but the truth. my dad used to say, “he’s not a pessimist, but he won’t hold back on all the reasons not to do something. he’s a pragmatist.”

the first time i tested this was when we were thinking about buying a property in west chester — our second one in the ‘flounders real estate group’ portfolio. i expected a long list of reasons not to buy it. instead, he looked it over and said, “i don’t see any reason not to. this is a great house.” so we bought it.

another time i asked his opinion was when i was about to buy doyle’s deli in lansdowne, his and my dad’s hometown. the deli sat right next to the lansdowne theater, which had been shuttered since a fire in 1986 and was rumored to be coming back to life as a modern music venue. the town was buzzing. my dad, i, and my business partners, being romantics, loved the nostalgia of owning a main street building and the idea of being a catalyst for the revitalization of the town.

before i could even finish saying the word “lansdowne,” though, uncle harry cut me off.

“no. don’t do it.”

we did it anyway.

from the day we opened, he always called it “the mistake“ with a hearty laugh.

he wasn’t entirely wrong. i lost hundreds of thousands of dollars subsidizing sandwiches for the neighborhood over five years of business. but i also had fun. i learned a lot. i crossed off a lifelong dream of owning a restaurant (one i will never attempt again!). and i still own the building, whose rent is slowly repaying the tuition i paid during those years.

back in mid-november, i heard uncle harry wasn’t doing so great. i reached out to aunt mary to see if i could come have dinner with them. in her english accent she said, “oh, love! that would be so nice!” i told my siblings i was heading out there and that harry wanted pizza. a few who were available eagerly joined.

we brought pizza. we drank a few too many glasses of wine. we laughed and talked for a couple hours.

i told uncle harry that the lansdowne theater had finally reopened in august, a $21 million restoration. he was flabbergasted that it actually happened. i showed him photos of how beautiful it turned out. his mouth agape, he said, “wow, brian. it’s a shame it didn’t happen when you were in business!”

i told him i’d managed to hold onto the deli building.

“oh,” he said, “i guess i need to stop calling it the mistake then!”

even as he drifted in and out of remembering my name that night, he remembered the mistake — and the advice he gave me to stay away from lansdowne if i wanted to keep my money.

as harry started dozing off, we all exchanged silent nods and announced that it was getting late. we snapped a selfie and said our goodbyes. my sister mary said something about seeing each other again soon, and harry chuckled, “ohhh, i don’t know about that!”

harry was ready for his eternal rest.

i whispered to him as i gave a final hug, “i hope you stay comfortable. i love you.”

and we left.

to a good man. a strong man.

i was bummed when they announced they would be holding off on the funeral until after the holidays, in january. i will sadly be away in italy. but i am glad i had this one final night with him, and i know this version of him i carry will sit comfortably next to my dad and his brothers, vince and raymond. their laughter is easy to hear.

Obituary

#family