The long life of a good man

Tio Pablo

How do you sum up the life of a man? Especially one whose warmth and gregariousness made everyone around him feel loved and appreciated.

All I know is that the standard newspaper obituary -- in this case, a single paragraph with a mere eight sentences -- doesn't do justice to Paul A. Rede, who died last week at age 89.

Uncle Paul was the second-oldest of nine children -- seven brothers and two sisters -- on my dad's side. His wife and daughter preceded him in death, leaving three sons, six grandchildren and two great-grandchildren, along with four surviving brothers and a sister.

Born into a poor family in rural New Mexico, he never attended high school. Like each of his brothers, he served in the U.S. Navy, seeing action during World War II and Korea. After the service, he settled in Gilroy, California, where he worked as an auto mechanic and later opened a florist shop -- and developed a love for golf.

As the oldest of the boys, he occupied a special place among the Rede siblings and within the extended family. No one was more enthusiastic than him when it came to planning and perpetuating the annual Rede reunion that typically drew 100 or more relatives. He and Oralia, his wife of 42 years, must have hosted it at least two or three times in Gilroy, known as the Garlic Capital of the World. As a widower, he nudged two of his sons to co-host last year's reunion in San Francisco.

Two years ago, at age 87, he and my Uncle Luciano came up to Portland for the annual summer gathering of Redes. No one was surprised that Uncle Paul did all the driving -- both ways.

My dear uncle will be buried today in Gilroy. I won't be able to attend. But I'll always carry fond memories of him warmly greeting Lori and me at the few reunions we were able to attend in recent years, of him making the rounds to socialize with nephews, nieces and cousins, and of him playing cards and dominoes with his brothers.