Dear Hearts,
June 25th is the 118th anniversary of the birth of Irwin Vincent Michael Wiley, born Wilkoshesky: son of Alfred and Wanda Wilkoshesky, brother of Norbert, Alfred, Carl, Eugene, Stewart and Blanche; husband of Mary Frances Sheehan (Boom Boom); father of Mary Claire and Helen; grandfather of Jim, Mary Fran, John, Mike, Matt, Anne, Jerry, Margaret, Patty, Christian, Teresa, Damian, Lisa and Mercy; great grandfather to over two dozen; great great to a bunch more! He was born on June 25, 1904 and died on July 12, 1994 in California at the age of 90. We all called him Boompa.
He graduated from high school at 15, and from Crane Tech at 17. In his 70-year career as an engineer, he surveyed the ways and calculated the slopes and curves of the road bed from Chicago to Montana, on foot, walking behind the train, for the Milwaukee Railroad (Chicago, Milwaukee, St. Paul and Pacific Railroad.) It was the only company from which he received a paycheck--almost 50 years.
When he was 14, his mother died swiftly of the Spanish flu. When he was 21, he married his sweetheart, and at age 22 became a father. When he was 44, he became a grandfather and realized the impact of his example. Boompa quit smoking, a lifelong habit. Stopped cold and never backslid. When he was 50, he began marking his birthdays backward, initiating a count down of sorts. So, when he was 60, he said he was 40. When he was 65, he put in an entirely new bathroom, carpentry, masonry, plumbing, electrics, tile, the works, by himself.
The homes he and Boom created (on the Southside of Chicago and in Lansing) were like a miracle-lands to us. He created a gigantic sandbox, filled with Lake Michigan sand, under his back porch steps--in the middle of the Back of the Yards neighborhood on the South Side of Chicago--for his grandchildren. Their house was stocked with stuff that never entered ours, or only lasted ten seconds there. Cases of soda, dill pickles, ice cream, maraschino cherries, sausage roll-ups. We used to sleep up in the attic, a wonderland of cool stuff.
The story goes that Nanny pointed out Irwin Wiley to 19-year-old Boom Boom as a worthy beau. Boom recognized the goodness in a man who attended church with mother in shined shoes and combed hair. The two were married until she died in 1997 at age 94. And until he was physically unable, Boompa attended Mass every morning.
He used to say that there were two guides for us all the time. First, he said, "Just think about Jesus. There's your example." And he said, "Sometimes you get a hunch, or a nudge, or a little accident happily occurs--that's the Holy Spirit."
Margaret was sitting with him at San Antonio Hospital in Upland just before he died. A day or so earlier he described how he had "just been at a cocktail party with some of his brothers and Aunt Pat and some others from the old neighborhood." All these people had been gone for years. He said the hors d'oeuvres were okay but the cheese was a little stale. He was holding on to life. Monsignor Maher had been in to see him and proclaimed him the "deepest faith I have ever witnessed."
Boompa was holding on for something. Margy told him that we were all ok, that he had taken real good care of the family, it was okay for him to go. Soon after, he sat up, raised his arms up and smiled as if he saw something, and said, "Mama. Mama. Mama." Then he lay back down, closed his eyes, and in a few minutes quietly slipped into the Hands of God, and I believe, the loving arms of his mother. I think she brought him into the world, and was there to take him out, as if not an hour had passed since she had handed him his lunch and kissed him goodbye.
To this day we all hear his comments in our heads: "Don't muck around with the moon." "If you want to play, go to a gymnasium." "You little S-yous." "If it's not yours, don't fool with it." "You have to be smarter than the (fill in the blank--toaster, television, etc.)" "Did you teach the teacher anything today?"
Happy Birthday, Boompa. Please keep watching over us like you have always done.
God bless us and keep us and save us from harm.
Love, Patty
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