A Good Man

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Back some 15 years ago I started working with a company out of Syracuse. It's a close-knit group and soon enough, I became friends with many of the guys in the organization.

I was really honored about seven or eight years in when I was invited to the annual two-day golf event. I was even able to get one of the Apes invited along, and it's just a great time.

The Raulli-Militi Open is the place to be in mid to late September.

I didn't make it this past year.

Neither did the true leader - Joe Militi.

You see, Joe played every year despite the fact that he was in his early 80's. He hit the ball pretty well too, and he always brought the Italian meats and cheeses and peppers for the before round sandwiches.

Joe had a special greeting for me.

"Don't start with your f*&%ng shit," he'd say.

I'm going to miss hearing that.

Joe passed away this past weekend.

"You're a real beaut, aren't you?" he'd ask me.

And being around Joe was like being around my own grandpa, and I just knew that despite his gruff exterior he loved life.

He loved family and friends. He might even have liked me.

He really liked to eat good food, and share fun times with a lot of people.

I'll always be able to recall Joe playing in the foursome with the ladies from the office. They all wore large pink hats.

In fact, Joe was very serious about the attire. The first year I was handed a Raulli-Militi baseball cap.

On the second year I showed up wearing my usual Yankee cap.

"Do you wear the Militi hat to Yankee Stadium?" he asked.

I especially liked to bust Joe's chops.

"Someday they're going to call this the Raulli-Fazzolari-Militi Tournament," I told him one year.

"I'll kill you with my bare hands," he answered.

I'm going to miss Joe.

Ain't life a peach.

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