Pulaski Day and a funeral

First of all, why do I get the day off? Because Chicago has the largest population of Polish people outside of Warsaw. When did it become a holiday? In 1976, the Illinois legislature created Pulaski Day, which is the first Monday of March, and it first went into effect in 1978. Now, who is this guy? Well, Casimir (Kazimierz in his native Poland) was born in either 1745, 46, 47 or 48 (I've seen different years in my google search) near Warsaw. From around 1768 to 1772 (maybe longer), he fought against Russia in support of Polish independence.
Then, he was either banished from Poland (during which he was wrongly accused in a plot to capture and kill the King of Poland) or outlawed by the Russians because of actions on behalf of Polish liberty - but whatever the reason, he left Poland and moved to Paris, where he either sought out or was sought out by or was introduced to Benjamin Franklin in 1777, who put him in contact with George Washington, who was at the time, of course, fighting for American independence.
Long story short - Casimir was first put in charge of a small group, proved himself, came to the aid of Washington, and "distinguished himself as a brilliant military tactician." He was named Brigadier-General in charge of Four Horse Brigades and soon after, in 1778, Congress established the Cavalry and placed him in charge. Or he may have just been authorized to form a cavalry. He is known as The Father of the American Cavalry, and played a large role in training American troops. He died in October 1779 from a gunshot wound to the leg or groin, which may have developed into gangrene. There are a few different accounts of what happened to his body.
I know I've probably messed some of the facts up but I swear, every website I've looked at has slightly different facts and a different way of describing them! But we've all still learned something today! :)
So on my day off, I did get to sleep in a little bit, but I was up and ready and picked up at 10 a.m. by The Meat and TIC to go to a funeral. I mentioned the son-in-law of a secretary in our office - I'll call her Witchy Woman (a name she would love). He passed away early Friday morning. He was 50.
The funeral was in the burbs, near Northbrook, I think it was actually in Northfield which must be very small because I've never heard of it. It was at a synagog - my first time ever in one. There were many, many people there, which was good for the family. Witchy Woman was really touched that The Meat and TIC came, and wept when she hugged each of them as we moved up the line to greet the family. We expressed our condolences to the widow and her two daughters who are both college-aged.
The ceremony was really nice and lasted almost two hours. First there were some words said by the rabbi and another lady, intersperced with singing by a woman. And then the rabbi invited people to come up and speak. First the widow, then the oldest daughter, followed by the youngest daughter, then a cousin of the deceased (I'll refer to him as N), then a friend through the girls' high school, then a friend for the past 25 years, and then two of his biking friends. I had always heard wonderful things about N from Witchy Woman, but hearing about him from all these people who had loved him was so wonderful, and The Meat, TIC and I all commented when leaving that we could tell he was a truly wonderful person from all that we heard, and we felt almost like we knew him.
A few things resonated with me from what was said about N. First, he really lived his life with passion, all the time. Passion for people, passion for knowledge, passion for doing good, passion for pushing himself. It was apparent that he had lived a very full life even at only 50 years old. He was always learning and so interested in finding out new things, from history to how things worked. He also took such pride in his work, pride in his mustang, and pride in pushing his body further and further - he ran marathons, participated in triathalons, and rode in some truly horrendous-sounding bike races, including a hundred-mile trek through the mountains in Colorado.
One of the phrases that people attributed to him was "dig deep", which was actually part of the saying for that last bike race but became a motto of his through his struggle with brain cancer. And it was apparent that throughout his life he always dug deep within himself to push himself more, to do more, to get through things. I like it. Dig deep. And a couple other things were so important as well - he was always, always nice to everyone, and he would always go out of his way to help people and would never say no to helping anyone. He set an example for all these people in the way he lived his life.
So anyway, these are the greatest things that I took away with me - the real need to live my life with passion, and to always dig deep inside myself, because I can do anything. I never met this man, but hearing about how he lived his life has made me want to do more with my own.
This was only the fourth funeral I've been to, but two of those others were when I was middle-school age and I hardly remember anything about them. I liked how so many people went up and talked and everyone was able to together remember this man. It was so poignant and affected me so much even as an outsider, so I can't imagine how helpful it was for those who loved him to hear all these wonderful things, and to know that everyone there was hearing them as well and that he won't be soon forgotten.
After the funeral, The Meat parked his car by my apartment and the three of us ate lunch at a little Thai restaurant near me. After the intensity of the previous couple hours, I'm glad we could just hang out for a bit and shoot the shit and talk about all kinds of things. I'm glad, too, because I know The Meat was lighthearted by the time we were finished. I worry about him sometimes because he gets in depressive moods occasionally about getting older and about dying, and I worry about his lack of hope for the future. He cried during the funeral - I saw him wiping his eyes more than a few times. I didn't want him to be feeling sad and hopeless, so the downtime was good for him I could tell.
I've been back home for two and a half hours and my TV hasn't been on! Yesterday I got up before 9 a.m. even though I had no plans for the day, and immediately got prettied up. I was so proud of myself! And I did all kinds of little things and didn't have the TV on, although I was getting a bit of cabin fever and boredom with the little projects at some point.
I'm really sleepy right now - I think both from the emotional intensity of the funeral and also from the horrible grayness outside today. I'm going to read for a bit and maybe take a nap as well, and tonight I'll see if I can get the roof put on my dollhouse by myself! I'll try to live with passion tonight, but I may be too tired and might have to let the passion wait until tomorrow :)
