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Thoughts of Uncle Al

April 18, 2013

I have always thought of Uncle Al as kind.  When I close my eyes I can easily see his smile.  He was always coming up with some amusing quip or connection to share, and he was a very good listener.  He was genuine in his interactions with humans, which is one of the things I most highly value in a person.  I have seen the word “kind” used over and over in eulogies and stories describing him and it feels good to share this with others who feel the same way. 

Just before my trip toPolandlast fall as the 2012 PACIM Cultural Exchange artist, I received a check out of the blue from Uncle Al and Aunt Gloria congratulating me.  This gesture of theirs to help with expenses sends the same sentiment home once again.  Their card wished me a wonderful trip and expressed their pride in my representing our family there and our Polish heritage.  In a way I was surprised, but in another way not because they have always supported me in my art, and it means so much to me.  When I opened that card, I felt so loved and cared for, and such a strong feeling of warmth and connection that it filled me with tears.  That is the way I feel once again as I think about Uncle Al. 

He is someone to look up to and to learn from his example about living and sharing.  I will always remember him in my heart.

PopPop's Commital Ceremony written by Glory Kulczycki

March 3, 2013

PopPop’s Committal Ceremony narrative                                                                      Glory Kulczycki


It was a crisp December 26th morning when we arrived before 9 am at the Holy Hope Cemetery for the Committal Ceremony for Alfred Kulczycki. PopPop’s ashes were to be committed to a boulder under a tree in the Veteran’s section of the grounds. At the site there was a large canopy with a sitting area of 8 chairs and a small table in front next to the open boulder. On the table was a sealed box of PopPop’s ashes, his officer’s hat and a portrait of him in uniform.  As we arrived we were met by the Cemetery Manager and a few enlisted members of the US Navy in uniform. Nearby a rifle detachment of uniformed Airmen arrived and  marched to a place beyond the canopy about 40  feet away to the right and stood at attention. We seated ourselves in the chairs with Granny in the front row flanked by her daughter, Jane, Glory and Mary. Also with us were Walker, Becky, Art, Paul Mirocha, Christina Robinson and Leo Mirocha and Father Richard Troutman.

On cue two of the Naval representatives entered the canopy and stood in front of us and invited us to stand. There was a very slow, reverent series of salutes, to the folded flag held to her heart by one of them, a salute toward the Airmen and a standing at attention. Then the Airmen began the gun ceremony with brief calling of orders and then a volley of three rifles at once, three times in succession. At the end of the volleys, they held the rifles in front of them and stood still. 

Then to our left and several  yards away, another Naval representative stood and played Taps very slowly and reverently. After she had finished Taps, the flag ceremony began. The two Navy representatives stood before us and ceremonially unfolded the flag very slowly and carefully. At the end they held the flag lengthwise between them  until it was held full length but still folded lengthwise in half. Then on a very quiet count of three they opened the flag fully and held it horizontally, symbolically over an absent casket. After a few seconds, they began to refold the flag, slowly and reverently, back into the triangle. Once it was folded, the senior representative carefully inspected and retucked it until it was perfect. The other representative then laid it on her heart and then held it out for a very slow and reverent salute from the senior person. He then received the folded flag from her and snap turned on his heel to face Granny who was seated. He then took a knee before her, presented the flag and said” ‘In the name of the President, the US Navy and the country we present this flag in appreciation of your husband’s service to his country”. Then he stood, saluted very slowly and turned and they left the canopy in march step. The detachment of Airmen also marched back out of view.

Father Richard then began the Rite of Committal with prayers for PopPop and prayers for the grieving family and friends and a sprinkling of the table and its contents with Holy Water, recalling that PopPop first entered Eternal Life at his Baptism and now had moved to the next phase of that eternal life.  He remarked on PopPop’s life and his own acquaintance with him. Walker stood and shared his thoughts on being a part of our family and PopPop’s son-in-law. Art shared similar remarks of appreciation for PopPop’s life and example. 

Then the cermetery groundsman approached the canopy and opened the box of ashes and placed the sealed bag in the boulder. Granny’s note to PopPop was then placed in the boulder and the Rite ended with the Our Father. Family members each then took a small handful of blessed earth from an urn next to the table and placed that in the opening in the boulder and the boulder was then sealed. 

The Airmen collected three of the rifle shell casings and they were given to us by the Cemetery Manager as a memento of the ceremony. We stood talking under the canopy for a few minutes as family members embraced each other and moved to the cars. We regrouped at a nearby restaurant for a meal together.

 

Card from Mark Puglisi.

February 26, 2013

We are sorry for your loss, I've been thinking of my Dads death 2 years ago. Some of my brothers and sisters can't talk about it still. It's never easy but if the loved one in question has lived a full life as our Dads have, you miss them but what more could they have done. Their love will always be with us and through the mercy of Christ they still are with us.
Our Dads were the leaders of our bands. We have always tried to imitate them, but know we will come up short, but if we are close we will be examples for our own bands. Our own children look up to us every bit as much as we looked up to our leaders (Dad) & Mom.
The love and friendship you have expressed to me over the years about your Dad, tells me what a great success his life really was. His passing is a loss but his being your Dad was one of the greatest blessings God ever gave you.
Take care & God bless you all
Love Mark & Bonnie

February 20, 2013

Loving

Generous

Loyal

Smart

Patient

Faithful

Fun-loving

Clever

Talented

Kind

Honorable

Strong

Honest

Comforting

Intelligent

Capable

Spiritual

Hard-working

Inspiring

Steadfast

Self-effacing

Brave

Tender

True

When I think of Dad, I think of these qualities.  He had all of them and 

Many more.

 

Dad was extremely generous:  with his time, with his money, with his

 

advice, but most of all with his love. Looking back I can picture him

 

gardening,  trying his hand at oil painting, attending operas with Mom,

 

leading our family in song on car trips, serving as a lector at the TV mass for

 

shut-ins, carving the roast on holidays, making oyster stew for the family, 

 

buying big bags ofMarylandcrab for all of us to enjoy inOceanCity.

 

Other memories:

 

Teaching me to ride a two wheel bike, struggling to help me understand my

 

school math, walking me down the aisle at my wedding, holding Alexis and

 

Natalie when they were newborns. 

 

Dad was there through it all, always caring, always showing his love. 

 

As many of you know, Dad was not a great singer although he loved music. 

 

The story goes that aboard one of the ships that Dad served on during his

 

Naval career, the Captain had a tradition of having all the officers sing in the

 

Ward room before serving dinner.  The Captain would say “everyone sing,

 

except for the paymaster.”

 

Two weeks ago, I noticed a hymn which I think says what

 

I am trying to say about Dad’s life, which we celebrate today:

 

The hymn is How Shall I Sing to God? with lyrics by Brian Wren:

 

How Shall I Sing to God?  I’ll sing with my life, witnessing and giving,

 

risking and forgiving.  This is my song, I’ll sing with Love.

 

 

Obituary

February 19, 2013

ALFRED SEVERIN KULCZYCKI A career military officer in the Navy Supply Corps who subsequently served as Administrative Assistant to a Congressman on Capitol Hill, died in hospice care at age 86 in Tucson, Arizona on October 13, 2012 after a critical illness. Kulczycki was born on February 23, 1926 and raised in Cudahy, Wisconsin to his parents Sophie and Waldemar Kulczycki. He married Gloria Genevieve Czarnecki on September 10th, 1949.  He enlisted in the Navy in 1943 at age 17.  He served as a seaman in the Pacific Theater of World War II on the USS Makin Island supporting the battle of Iwo Jima amid other actions. He later attended Naval officer training school. After the war, he graduated from Marquette University with a degree in accounting in 1948, and was then commissioned an officer in the Navy Supply Corps. As a Supply Corps Officer, Kulczycki served on several ships, the USS Satyr, the USS Higbee, the USS Norton Sound and the USS Helena. His posts included New Mexico, California, the Philippines, Pennsylvania and Washington DC.  He was selected by the Navy to pursue a Masters in Business Administration from Stanford University and graduated 10th in his class in 1960. Following 27 years in the Navy he retired in 1977 and joined the staff of Rep. Clement J. Zablocki (D-WI) as his Administrative Assistant and served in that capacity for seven years.  Kulczycki and his wife, Gloria, enjoyed travel during retirement including many cruises and foreign trips and commuted between homes in Ocean City, Maryland and Tucson, Arizona, frequently hosting their far-flung family and friends.  He enjoyed refinishing furniture, collecting antiques, decorating their Southwest home and hosting family and friends. He served his parishes as a Television Mass Lector and a Eucharistic Minister.  He is preceded in death by his brother, Wally, his sister, Barbara and his grandson, Weston Foard.  He is survived by his wife, Gloria, his four children, Jane Kulczycki, Glory Kulczycki (Art Hopkins), Mary Foard (Walker) and Edward Kulczycki (Diana); and seven grandchildren: Alexis Schweizer, Rebecca Foard, Brendan Kulczycki, Joshua Kulczycki, Natalie Schweizer, Halina Hopkins and Anton Hopkins and one great-grandchild, Calvin Kulczycki. The family plans a memorial service in the future. Donations can be made in lieu of flowers to St. Odilia’s Catholic Community, 7570 N. Paseo del Norte Tucson, AZ  85704 (520)297-7271.

Eulogy

February 19, 2013

My brother Al was more than a brother to me. 15 years old than me, he was my idol when I was very young. I wanted grow up to be just like him—those who know me know how unsuccessful I was.

When I visited Al and Gloria in California for the summer at the age of 10 or 11, Al and I used to go to work together—he to manage a military commissary, I to return grocery carts to the store for tips. Other employees thought he was my father, which he was for me at that time.

Later, he took an active interest in my academic career. I remember the pleasure I felt when he congratulated me on getting tenure.

I want to focus on two of his virtues that have especially impressed me. They are paradoxical in the sense that he had characteristics that in a way militated against these virtues.

Like all of us Kulczyckis, he was frugal. It is part of our DNA. We are natural environmentalists—we prefer not to waste anything or throw anything away that still could be used.  As a result, Gloria has been left with one of the largest collections of used rubber bands in all of Tucson. His advice to Gloria when they first got married is one that I repeat to my wife Regina: “Don’t buy anything you don’t need.”

Yet, despite these characteristics, Al was the most generous person I know. Growing up and as an adult, I benefited from Al and Gloria’s hospitality countless times. Inviting Al and Gloria out to dinner, you always had to keep an eye on Al so that he would not grab the check before you did. Even when we organized a dinner at a restaurant in Chicago for family members in town for a niece’s wedding, I caught him trying to tell the waiter to give him the check.

 Whenever I visited our distant cousins in Poland, he was always ready to have me pass on some financial assistance. When I organized a project to help street kids in Ethiopia, he was among the first to make a substantial donation. His frugality never stood in the way of his generosity.

Al had another virtue that might seem paradoxical in light of his experiences. Al was a veteran, a career military man, and he was rightly proud of his service. Here in Tucson his remains are buried in the section of a cemetery reserved for veterans. In contrast, I was a Peace Corps Volunteer for 2 years in Ethiopia. Al and Gloria’s children no doubt remember the endless debates Al and I had during the Vietnam War whenever I visited them. They called me Uncle John the Red.

Yet, despite our differences, Al more than tolerated me—even when I showed up at their home during my hippy days, unshaven, unkempt, or bearded. I never felt unwelcome. When Congressman Zablocki called to offer Al a job as his administrative aide, Al told him that he was not looking for a job, but that his brother John was. But the congressman wanted Al, not me—maybe he remembered my letters war criticizing U.S. policy in Vietnam.

Generosity and tolerance—two of Al’s virtues that stand out for me, and that are sorely needed in our public life, especially in dealing with social issues.

He is a great personal loss. As Colin Thubron wrote in Shadow of the Silk Road, “Those you love take away a part of you, the self you were with them.”

A drink of water

February 16, 2013

Sometimes it's the most trivial or undramatic events that stick in one's memory. Yet there is always a reason for a memory, even a simple one, when you think about it.

For some reason a particular memory of Al comes to me. I was about 3 or 4, I guess, living in Davis, California and the Kulczyckis were visiting. It was bed time and I was in bed, but could not sleep. There was a strict rule in out house that once a child was in bed, that was it. No more service until morning. Most likely a wise and practical rule and I don't dispute it.

Still, I called out from bed that I couldn't sleep. Uncle Al came to the door and asked me what the matter was. I answered that I was thirsty, not expecting anything. He came back with a glass of water. I drank it with a slight feeling of guilt for getting such treatment, but also thankfulness.

I knew Al was a military man, and was kind of in awe of him, but maybe he was not familiar with the particular rules of discipline of the Mirocha family. Anyways it's my first memory of him. Now I think no act of kindness, even a small one, is trivial. I remember Al as a kind man.

 

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