EVERETT KAMUCHEY

Everett loved trees. He would stop at nurseries and pick up seedlings that were almost dead at very low cost. When he got home, he'd load them on the back of the truck, grab his grandkids and plant the seedlings all over his property. One day he and his grandkids planted 40 trees. He would often say: "Why would someone ever cut down a tree before figuring out how to replace it?" I know if we could plant a tree in his memory, he'd be happy.	Our beloved mother worked hard to make two big 9 x 13 pans of Greek spinach peta. Then she went to do laundry in the basement. [One day when Everett was a grown man with a wife, he] came into the kitchen, glancing at the aromatic spinach peta and he naturally took a whole pan of it home without seeing Mom. Later Mom came upstairs from the basement and found it missing. She knew immediately that it was stolen by a devilish Everett. She got furious and called [his wife] to come here, saying "I will teach you how to make spinach peta." I love you, Ev...Marie
My uncle Everett passed away. He was a wonderful, outgoing man, had 7 kids, a farm in WI, and loved the Green Bay Packers. My favorite memory was when he came to visit us on the West Coast -- he looked me over with a suspicious eye and barked: "Democrat or Republican?" When I answered Democrat, he snorted and said: "Well, that's good then. I never trust anyone who isn’t a Democrat when they're young." Later in life, after he retired, he worked at a roadside fruit/vegetable stand and spent much of his time flirting with customers. And even when he became ill and carried his own oxygen tank everywhere he went, he would never miss a Packers game. In fact, during many 49er-Packard games, he would call the relatives on the West Coast to taunt them. I heard one story, that one year, he thought the Packers would fumble. He yelled for his two sons to lift him to his feet so he could shout at the TV. And then, when it looked like all might be lost, he turned to his eldest: "Promise me, if that $%(! fumbles, you’ll cut the oxygen." Needless to say, the Packers won that year. Wherever he is, I know he is chatting away, making friends and enjoying their company.	When my brother Everett was young he was afraid of dogs. One summer when we went to our Aunt Lucille and Uncle Peter's home in St Paul, Minn, Everett was sent to the store to buy some milk. I went with him and along the way we encounter a very small treacherous black Scottie. The dog naturally started barking at us, Everett did a 180 degree turn bolted back to our aunt's, when he reached the back door he neglected to open the screen and crashed into the door. Of course all the rest of us had a good laugh. Later in life he worked hard at conquering this fear and even bought a dog when he was older. Gradually he triumphed over this fear. So my dear big brother you can now go wherever you want to without having any fear, love sister Thelma
My brother had a car he loved when he was young and living at home. He would spend hours polishing and caring for the vehicle. I wanted to borrow it, but he always refused. So one day, while he was sleeping, I took the car and drove off. The car was wedged between two other cars and as I had almost cleared them ,I heard this loud screeching sound. I had scratched the finish - a long, thin, hard to miss scratch. I drove the car to the local mechanic and asked him of he could fix it. "Ok, how about next Tuesday?" "No, it has to be today. Now. Please." After parting with way too much money, the dent was pushed out, the black paint matched, and I drove the car home. I parked it on the street, and told my brother I had moved the car while he slept. He never suspected a thing. And when I finally admitted it to him months later, he still thought I was pulling his leg. "My car is perfect" he said, polishing it again and again. But when he checked with the mechanic, he found out I was telling the truth. Of course he was furious, but as I pointed out, if he couldn't see the scratch, how could the car be anything but perfect? Beauty is, after all in the eye of the beholder.