James Patrick Carter

The Eulogy of 

I would like to begin honoring my dear brother-in-law Jim with words from the American poet, Mark Nepo and his brilliant poem about the process of mourning our loved ones who’ve passed on. It’s entitled:

I Shout Their Names

- Mark Nepo

I'm at an age where those I’ve known for years are dying. 

Some go quick, like snow on a warm day. 

Some more slowly; as if every week is a tide that takes them farther and farther away.

To lose someone you know is to be seized by an invisible hand that pulls
a clump of earth from your heart.

Only after months is it possible to realize—there is more room to feel.
Now I see your faces in the knots of trees and chase leaves because I some-
how think they hold things you meant to say. 

Now I cry at garlic bread because you loved its smell.

Perhaps this is your gift to us: to take up space so far in that when you go, you empty us out.

And in our grief, we look for you everywhere till against our will we rediscover the world.

James Patrick Carter was born on the 21st day of August in the year 1948 in Detroit. The second of the four children born to Gene and Ann Carter, Jimmy passed away on Tuesday March 28, 2017. He was 68 years old.

Jim was married on July 18, 1970 to his high school sweetheart, the love of his life (and my dear sister) Carmelita Mary Joseph. Wed for nearly 40 years, his loving, generous Carmie preceded Jim into heaven on January 25, 2010. A broken heart he would never recover from, it is safe and sad to say.

Jim is survived by two outstanding daughters, Christine Marie and Amy Marie. Chris and her husband Dan Sutherland have two beautiful children Victoria and Ryan. Amy has three amazing children, Yvonne, Ian and Willow. Jim’s five grandchildren certainly filled his heart to overflowing. Jimmy is survived by his brother Mick and his wife Natalie and his sister Patty and her husband John Turri. Jim’s older brother Butch preceded him in death in 2015. Jim has three other brothers-in-law, George and his wife Candice, Wayne and his wife Carolyn and Larry and his wife Tracey. Jim is also survived by many nieces and nephews as well as countless cousins and dear friends.

To pay tribute to the size of Jim’s heart, he was an integral part in helping to raise Jimmy and Christopher Joseph, my brother Larry’s twin sons who called him “Unc” but knew him as a second father. Not only that, but Jim readily accepted my sister bringing in and caring for our Grandmother, our Father and our Mother at the ends of their lives and treated them with such generosity and care that it made their end days peaceful and humane. It is a great measure of the man who supported his wife’s kindness with such understanding. It is certainly a debt my brothers and I could never fully repay.

Jim had a nickname “Rocky” the derivation of which stems for his Catholic grade school days at St Jude’s. Being the class clown (imagine that) Jim was forced to sit in the corner wearing a dunce cap. The homeroom nun used to tell him he had rocks in his brain. Then his classmates began calling him “Rocky” and it stuck. Don’t you just love nuns and grade school kids? Although, later in life, he admitted to never fully embracing the name, he didn’t mind all the attention drawn to his nickname with the success of those Rocky movies. 

In his youth, Jim was an excellent athlete. He played on Championship Football teams at St Ambrose High School but truly excelled at baseball achieving All-City and All Catholic honors. Jim once hit two home runs at the old Tiger Stadium. Jimmy would say he was not as good a pitcher as his brother Butch, yet he played every position with a style and an athletic prowess you could marvel at. A true fan, he followed and cheered on every professional sports team in Detroit. 

Jim worked in several jobs during his life. He worked for Cadillac Gage with his father and brother Butch. He was also, a co-owner of a restaurant “Villanova” in the late 70’s and most notably, he delivered produce for La Grasso Brothers.

In thinking of my dear brother-in-law’s passing, I am drawn to a quote by an 18th century Frenchman John Baptiste Dubois who said “Death is a law and not a punishment. Three things ought to console us for giving up life; the friends whom we have lost, the few persons worthy of being loved whom we leave behind us, and finally the memory of our stupidities and the assurance that they are now going to stop”
Almost everyone I spoke to mentioned Jim’s sense of humor as an overriding quality he possessed. He loved to laugh and make you laugh. His grandkids each replayed stories where Jim would bring them to hysterics. Jim would tell them “Let’s play Hide and Seek” and then never look for them until they finally figured out he wasn’t ever “seeking”. Or he would send texts to his eldest granddaughter with unfinished swear words like “what the f” or “kiss my” or “son of a b”. Or Jim starting the “Dear Ole ‘whoever’ you ain’t what you used to be” song following Happy Birthday and the “We want cake and ice cream” chant at every family party…and you damn well better have ice cream or face his unserious wrath. 

Jim never shied from the spotlight. In fact, he used to run face forward directly into it. Speaking for the Joseph family, he certainly loved and entertained us while mocking us all along. One evening in the mid-70’s at our home on Ashland, the Joseph family gathered following a family wedding. Grabbing a bottle of champagne and my new wife, they planted themselves on the front porch as the non-ethnic welcoming committee. Swigging and sharing directly from the bottle, Jim slung insults as everyone entered the party. The more he consumed the louder and funnier the verbal abuse. My wife admits to building a bond as “the Out-Laws” with Jim that summer night. Almost everyone has a story about Jim that brought them joy. His brother-in-law John Turri tells the tale of Jimmy running into the back of his parked car when first meeting him. Nice way to start a relationship. But the most iconic comical saga about Jim comes from his nephew/son Christopher. In his own words here is The Legend of the Shit Towel… When I was about 5 or 6 years old, I must have gotten some poop on my fingers when wiping my behind in the bathroom. In a moment of poor judgment (or maybe I'd run out of toilet paper), I cleaned my hand off using a towel hanging on the towel rack next to the toilet. Moreover, in a moment of poor judgment (or an example of incredible short-term memory loss), I did not place the shit-towel down the laundry chute (conveniently located outside the bathroom). Instead, the spiked towel remained on the towel rack. Uncle was preparing to leave for a Red Wings game, and Aunt Carm, Little Jim and I were preparing for a night home alone with movies and popcorn. Uncle, in a rush, used the bathroom sink to wash his hair and his face, and - you guessed it - used my shit-towel to dry his face/hair. He yelled to Carm from the bathroom, "This towel smells like shit!" before taking a closer look and realizing there was literal shit on the towel. He was understandably upset and demanded to know the culprit. When he entered the bedroom Little Jim and I shared, my fear sabotaged any ability to lie, and I simply burst into tears. I still have no idea why I used a towel to remove shit from my hands or why I failed to dispose of the soiled towel properly, but whatever the reason, Aunt Carm's inability to stifle laughter in the moment, as well as her inability to retell this story without a complete hysterical meltdown, makes this a classic Big Jim Shit Towel story. And as a testament to Jim’s ability to take it as well as dish it out, he reveled in recounting that story himself. And here’s your pun alert, he was literally the butt of that joke. 

In gathering information for this eulogy, it didn’t make a difference if it was his grandchildren, his siblings, his daughters…any and all I spoke to mentioned one four-letter word when it came to Jim…and that was FOOD. He loved it…He loved to prepare it in abundance…He would create so much food for a simple family gathering that you would think he was expecting a cast of thousands to show up for dinner. I cannot come up with enough adjectives to describe the sheer magnitude of food that you would discover upon entering his home for a simple visit. His nephew/son/namesake Jimmy said he’d always over-prepare. He’d have spreads of fresh cut veggies and cheeses and crackers and chips and dip as appetizers with back-ups in the refrigerator…And the main courses were pounds of delicious meats and loads of pastas and hills of potatoes…it was truly a sight to behold and pleasure to partake…He would figuratively and literally hound you into second and third helpings…You could say, Jim why are you cooking like you’re expecting the 82nd Airborne to stop and he’s respond, “Shut up and eat”…His son-in-law Dan recounted stories while dating Chris, of how he had to have 2nd and 3rd dinners at Jim’s house after having eaten a full meal at home…His homemade BBQ sauce, his Baked cheese concoction that was just like eating the top of Pizza without the crust…his Spaghetti sauce…his 2nd best Kibbee in the family - all true gastronomic gems…I believe Jim lived by the motto, “So long as you have food in your mouth, you have solved all questions for the time being”.
In fairness, Jimmy did have a gruff side. His brother Mick liked to say about Jim, sometimes he had a rough exterior but that’s because his heart was so soft. That is the same Jimmy that surprised his daughter Amy by how effortlessly he took to dealing with her infant daughter Willow. Left to be the babysitter so Amy could return to work, Jim handled it with ease and shocked the hell out of Amy to quote her…although he would not change diapers. Instead he would wake up the older kids to do that dirty work. . Not always easy to read or to get along with later in life, it never diminished his love for you. I will always believe that my sister’s death 7 years ago did irreparable damage to his heart and to his psyche. Try as he might, he could never fill that bottomless space in his life.  

In closing, I would like to share with you a poem I wrote to honor this man we loved so much. I wrote it in his voice speaking to us with the hope that this how it ends…that this is the final outcome we all hope for him. The poem is entitled:

MY OMERTA

(for James Patrick Carter)

With my final breath,

I now know what we all hope to know.

and I am keeping this secret 

as my omerta…my code of silence.

To those left living, I have disappeared like a dream.
To those who ache in sorrow, I cannot come home again.
To those furious with fate, I played the cards I was dealt.
To those content with my contentment, I have rediscovered tranquility.

I am invisible, but not hushed.
When next you hear the baritone bark of bull mastiff – turn a thought to me.
As the sting of a perfect BBQ sauce coats your palate-turn a thought to  me.

And when the sandlot shortstop pivots and tosses a bead to first base - turn a thought to me.

For I will not leave your heart, 

all your laughter at my crazy – all your cheering at my silly -

each memory recalled as yesterday will replay like a cinema. 

And for those of you who believe in Hollywood endings

you will find me

treading the shores of Mackinac Island

in the shadow of the Grand Hotel

holding her hand secure in mine

pausing at that boulder
sharing silence  - somewhere in time…