I heard a story about an aging movie star that’s outlived his body double by over 5 years and his co-star by over 24 years. He’s living a life most retirees dream of. He paints, plays the piano, takes the occasional run to the drive-thru for a hamburger and he watches movies on a nice, comfy sofa. He’s even writing a book! This Palm Springs resident certainly sounds like he’s living the life, doesn’t he?
Cheeta’s his name, and he’s a chimpanzee. Cheeta was the star of 12 classic Tarzan movie serials. He’s the oldest known living chimp, though his actual age is up for debate. Regardless of his age, he’s still living better than most human beings his age. He certainly has it better than my Grandfather did.
Angelo Mai was a first generation American. Named after a 19th Century ancestor (who also happened to be the chief keeper of the Vatican Library), he was the youngest of 11 children. He grew up in Hoboken, New Jersey where he eventually joined the city’s Fire Department. He married a nurse and they had 3 children. He was a stern man by all accounts. He strongly believed in God, country and family. The man was a grumpy force of nature.
“He was a strong man,” my mother said. “When he hugged me as a child, I was enveloped in these huge muscles. It felt so safe.” I suppose he had to be in great shape. After all, Hoboken was full of multi story apartment buildings and brownstones. It was like a gauntlet for firefighters.
When my mother was a child, Grandpa rose to the rank of Captain. He worked a city fireman's schedule and never took advantage of his rank. Once, when my mother and father were on a date at what's now known as the Malibu Diner. A building across the street was ablaze and who showed up and ran right in? That's right...Grandpa.
“I looked up, and somehow he got all the way to the roof fast,” she said. “Your father and I just sat in our booth and watched him. There he was, in full gear, on the roof of a burning building! He was smoking a cigarette, directing the firemen.”
After retirement, when he was in his mid 60s, Grandpa chopped his own firewood, mowed his lawn and tinkered all over the house. This was when I knew him.
When Grandpa found out I liked comics, he gave me a bunch of Evangelical Christian mini comics. The comics were black, white and light blue. The first one was innocuous enough, as it was about Jonah and the Whale. But the second one he gave me was the one that stuck out the most. It was about Armageddon. The thing that so vividly sticks out in my mind is a picture of a police motorcycle with a guillotine on the back. Apparently, the police would be the agents of the Antichrist and they’d use the bikes to behead the Faithful. He also gave me loose change in empty pill bottles.
He did all the work around the house until his early 70s. Then he was diagnosed with emphysema. He moved in with my Uncle for a while, but soon, the emphysema grew stronger than Grandpa and he had to move to a nursing home.
Grandpa spent his twilight years sharing a room with an invalid, and then with a man even more cantankerous than he ever was. The Nursing Home was clean and the staff was friendly. It was modest a modest place, but Grandpa would be happy with a crate to sit on, his Bible and a Mets game on the radio.
Grandpa was a stubborn man, which I suppose is why he was such a damn good fireman. At his wake, several of his fellow firefighters came up to my Mother, my Aunt and my Uncle and told them about how they would have followed Grandpa anywhere. They reminisced about the crazy things he'd do to make sure they got home to their families that night. I swear, it was like they were talking about a super hero. This man, who gave me pennies and dimes covered with who knows what kind of pharmaceutical residue inspired these men more than any British nobleman in a loincloth and a chimpanzee ever could.
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