Ode to Punky (Bill Egan, R.I.P. 1941-2010)

I was 17 when I first met my father-in-law to be.  I was soon won over by this big, strong, funny, intelligent man.  The creed in the Egan household was all about enjoying life: experiencing what the world had to offer, hard work, perseverance, sports, delicious food and drinks,  and a lot of laughter (not necessarily in that order).  He welcomed me and my sister-in-law Jaime into the fold from the very beginning.

Bill, AKA Punky, had definite opinions, but allowed others to have their own (even if he personally thought them foolish.)  He was an observer of life.  He found others very amusing, whether he liked them or not.  He was a visionary.  He would watch CNN and ESPN and the Financial Reports, read the daily paper and tell it like he saw it.  He was very often right.  He went to bed early and woke up before the rest of us, jotting plans on his yellow pads and oversize calendar and paved the way to an adventure-filled existence. 

He loved to rhyme in your birthday cards and twist up crazy nicknames.  "Well, well, Judy-Bell, that's just swell", he'd say when I would bring him something yummy.  If you were around him for the first time, watch out.  You just might come out of it with a nickname of your own.  And those names stuck and morphed and would encapsulate the past and the future in one fell swoop.

He was a man of particular tastes.  Slap-stick movies (at which he would laugh so loud and hard, you would be laughing too, even if you missed what was so funny in the first place), green olives and salt in his beer, and the best margaritas around.  My favorite memory of one of his concoctions was at the river one year when he decided to make a batch of margaritas in an ice-bucket with honey.  He stirred it all up with his big fingers and passed it round.  The best ever.  Another one of his quirks was the need of a toothpick at hand at all times.  You can find toothpicks in the garage, in the trucks, on the dining room table and in drawers.  You may have wondered why there are packages of toothpicks at your table. Please take them with you and use them with a smile.

Bill wasn't perfect, none of us are.  He could be stubborn at times.  But more than anything, he loved his family and friends and would go out of his way to make every day enjoyable.  I have learned a life-long lesson from this wonderful man, who lived life to the fullest.  He will forever live in my heart.  Love you, Punky!