- by Bob Wendelken

Jo Ann absolutely LOVED life! She squeezed more out of the ordinary day than anyone I ever knew. She simply LOVED the act of living. Even on a crummy day, she always managed to get some enjoyment out of it. If a customer gave her a tough time, she had her workouts at the gym to return her to a sense of sanity.

She tried EVERYTHING! She water-skied, Alpine (downhill) skied and cross-country skied - and won awards for cross-country skiing. This, naturally, was not big-time competition, but she skied against mainly Norwegians. She loved the excitement of competition. She didn't actually have to win, just to participate.

She loved the winter because it was time to ride the sleds and the snow discs. It was also time to decorate for Christmas and to give presents to the many people she loved - and often to those she didn't love too much. She adored the color and excitement of the season, the beautiful job she did wrapping gifts, the picking of exactly the right presents for each person. She took as much delight in seeing how folks enjoyed her presents as the people did in getting them.

For over twenty years, I have been the Santa Claus for my large family, as well as many other families through the years. Jo Ann dressed up as Santa's elf and came with me to deliver presents and listen to the long wish lists of the children. I rode the Long Island Railroad for years. One year, I met a young woman living in Huntington with her sister and her family. When I told her how we went around at that time of year, she asked if Santa would do a stop at her sister's house. Naturally, I agreed. Several days later, she sheepishly admitted that her sister had bragged about the visitor who was to make an appearance and was deluged with requests from girlfriends asking for their kids to be at the house. Again, I agreed. Jo Ann and I brought a large bag, filed with candy canes, comic books, crayons and I don't know what else. Jo wrapped a huge number of packages for what turned out to be about thirty or so of these leprechauns. After getting lists from the children and distributing the gifts, we posed for endless pictures. Of all the children at that party, Jo Ann probably enjoyed it the most.

We also "Kringled" kids for years. This involves leaving small presents for kids for several weeks preceding Christmas. We'd sneak up to the targeted house and leave presents in the mailbox or between the front doors. "Santa" would then call the kids, telling them where to look. When we did it for the kids next door, Jo Ann would arrange to be in the driveway, looking for something in the trunk of her car. This way she'd be able to see and hear the delight when the kids got to their treasures. Later, when she got a cell phone, we were able to do the same to other children and park up the street, with lights out, while we watched the jack-o'-lantern grins on those young faces. She wrapped each present without complaint. The more, the merrier!

Now remember, I'm one of eight brothers and sisters, so we took care of many of the kids in my family, as well as neighbors' kids and those of other friends. What a gal she was….a regular whirling dervish, buying, wrapping and delivering all those things for all those kids for all those years. What a gal!

Jo was also creative. For years, we went to a Halloween party with a Norwegian group with whom Jo Ann bowled. They waited every year, holding their breaths. We often came to these parties with a contingent from Jo's family. One year, we dressed as the California raisins from the commercial. We made costumes using large, black plastic garbage bags as the basic costume, with dark clothing and various other accoutrements to give the desired effect. I led the group, with a boom box on my shoulder, blasting Marvin Gaye, singing "I Heard It Through The Grapevine". One year, we went as a light bulb and a socket. Jo was the bulb. She had to "plug into" me, as I had the battery needed to light the bulb. Predictably, perhaps, they thought that was a bit racy. Another year, we both showed up as lightning bugs, with our own little battery packs. One year, I was a toilet, with a real toilet seat and came complete with floating materials. I'm surprised they let us in after that one!

Three years ago, Jo and I went to a bar not far from here and entered a late-night costume contest. We went as a lion (me) and a tiger (Jo) and won fifth place, earning us a folding love seat, which we used for outdoor concerts in the summertime. Two years ago, we entered a costume contest in New Hope, Pennsylvania. Jo Ann, our daughter, our son-in-law and I went as the West Nile Virus and the exterminator (me). We won first prize, which was a bunch of gift certificates totaling several hundred dollars. On top of that, Jo dressed her mother in a penguin costume she used a few years ago, and she won third prize - at age ninety! That same year, Jo spoke with the furrier and conned him out of some fur scraps. She made new, full-length costumes of a lion and a tiger and entered us in a competition with Newsday. They expressed an interest and asked that we come to their headquarters - in costume - for their photographer to meet and evaluate. Hundreds of people entered and we were one of ten or twelve entrants selected to have our pictures put into the paper. Women at work promptly showed up at my office, flashing that day's paper to show me that they'd seen our picture. Some reprinted it from the Internet. We have a copy of that picture in the entranceway to our home.

Pookie

Jo Ann was afraid of dogs, but loved cats. Over the years, we've had many, with sometimes three of our own at one time. When my daughter showed up with her four cats, we had a regular circus. While we've had many cats over the years, our all-time favorite was Pookie. He was the sweetest little guy, very affectionate, with big, expressive yellow eyes. He was a stray who somehow wandered onto our deck and lingered. Jo Ann being who she was, naturally had to feed him. Within several days, she enticed him into the house, although he was clearly terrified. She kept - and spoiled - him in the house for a few days and then offered to let him leave. No Way! That little guy stayed with us for years. He got sick and we put him into a local hotshot animal hospital, struggling to get him better. He lost his battle with pancreatitis the day before the World Trade Center was bombed. We spent thirty-three hundred dollars trying to save him and would have gladly spent two or three time that much if it would have helped. Neither of us thought it was outlandish to spend that much money. Pookie used to wake me up at about four every morning, for affection. I'd pet him, talk with him and give him a snack. He would then promptly turn his big backside toward me and go to Jo Ann, gently hugging her with both front paws. Another guy under her spell!

Jo LOVED to dance! I met her at a dance at the Irish American Center in Mineola in November of 1958. She learned many of the folk dances so that we could do them together. She loved to tap dance, and was one of the Top Hats at Bethpage High School. She also took tap lessons sometime after age thirty-five, after we moved back to New York. When there was a recital, about forty family members - mostly mine - showed up to be her cheering section. She also decided she'd like to belly dance (took lessons for that also) and disco. She couldn't wait for weddings or other events where we could do the hustle together. She danced with everyone, wearing them out, one by one. When the guys couldn't keep up with her, she'd enlist the gals and kept on going as long as there was music.

Jo Ann so loved disco music that we played it on the second day and night of her wake. That's right! We played CDs of The Bee Gees, Tavares, Black Box, Donna Summer and the sound track from Saturday Night Fever. She'd have been so happy that I had the nerve to do that. The funeral director looked a little oddly at me, but so what! Her wake, her music! Rock on, Jo Ann!

She was a skater, too. She ice-skated, roller-skated and in-line skated. She's the only person over the age of nineteen I know who owned (and rode) her own scooter, a gift from our daughter and her husband.

Jo Ann and son Rob in '82

Jo Ann is also the only person I've ever known who actually brushed her teeth in the morning, after each meal and at bedtime - and at other times, as she felt appropriate. She also washed her hands nonstop, throughout the day. She'd never prepare food without having carefully washed in advance. She further reminded everyone -including visiting priests- to wash before touching food.

She's also the only person I know who used shoe horns. My daughter and I were looking in one of her dresser drawers and found about eight of them!

A business friend of mine met Jo once - about seven or eight years ago. When I told her Jo Ann had died, she went to pieces, telling how much she loved Jo, after actually meeting her that one time. I heard that again and again at her wake and thought about it. I met her over forty-five years ago and I, too, fell in love after meeting her just once. How in heaven's name did a woman with that charisma and strength of personality ever agree to spend her life with me?

As I think back over our years together, I'm constantly reminded of her great, never-ending smile. You simply couldn't stay morose for long around Jo Ann. Her smile was infectious and people wanted to be near her just because she was so darn much fun! My brothers and sisters are mostly younger than she, and all felt the same way. She was like the cheeriest big sister they could ever want.

We have shared some very good times and some very tough times during those years, but we always got through because we somehow managed to work together as a team. Somehow, nothing seemed impossible when Jo Ann was there to share the work and the fun.

Bob and Jo Ann

She had so many talents. About thirty-five years ago, she decided that she'd like to paint. She went out and bought some brushes, easels, oils and acrylic paints and sat down to paint. She wasn't an original artist, but she could copy practically anything she saw - and all this without a single lesson! We moved back to New York from Pennsylvania in 1972. She immediately took up karate to continue lessons she'd been taking while we lived out of state. Several years later, she took a shine to photography. She met a fellow who shared his almost encyclopedic knowledge about cameras with her. With this new information, she linked her considerable artistic talent and became an award-winning photographer. Many of her works have hung in local libraries, banks, government offices and schools. She loved taking pictures and many of her winter scenes were used for our Christmas cards for several years. She has also shot thousands of pictures of the children who used to live next door, plus the many children in our family over the years. Everyone waited to see the next great series of photos Jo Ann took at the various family functions. I have three of her photographs hanging in my office. I'm going to rotate them, bringing two or three or more others from home, just to keep a fresh look at the office.

Jo injured herself last April while taking care of her ninety-three year-old mother. This trauma triggered a horrible nine-month odyssey of terrible pain and several spinal surgeries. While she suffered constantly and severely, she never complained that life isn't fair. Jo Ann struggled valiantly against incredible odds, fighting a battle she simply could never have won. My pal was an incredible warrior, smiling whenever possible, never giving up, despite indescribable pain. Throwing in the towel simply never would have occurred to her. She loved having company, especially the children who used to be our next-door neighbors. They showed up at the hospital last Halloween night in full costume, only to find that Jo Ann, too, had put on funny faces and silly glasses and large fangs. They had the best time together; despite the nonstop pain Jo Ann bore. Prior to their arrival, she had been walking as best she could, up and down the halls, trick or treating among the nurses and other patients, with her medicine-carrying pole in one hand and a noisemaker in the other.

I have to say that I married a WONDERFUL woman. She was a beautiful gal, in every way, generous to a fault, absolutely honest and incredibly reliable. She learned to spackle because she didn't like the way that workmen did it. She painted sheds, decks and fences with me - and without me at times.

Jo AnnJo Ann was a long-time member of the Nassau County Auxiliary Police Department. There was a uniformed Auxiliary Police honor guard posted at her casket each night of her wake. Each officer wore a black mourning band over the badge on his or her uniform. She had a police escort from the funeral home to the church and again from the church to the cemetery. There were five cars - count 'em, FIVE - escorting her funeral procession. Three were Auxiliary Police, the other two Nassau Count Police Department cars. I have never before seen such a large police contingent for a civilian. Each officer had a black band over his or her badge. I also arranged for a police bagpiper to play, both at the church and at the cemetery. He, too, wore the black mourning band over his badge. Jo Ann must have been positively BEAMING to see all the fuss being made over her passing. She simply loved being in the spotlight. Well, she sure got it during the several days of her wake and burial services. My sister hosted a reception at her home after Jo's burial. The house was loaded with people, food and innumerable stories about Jo Ann or "Aunt Jo".

I had dinner with a friend who is a retired Nassau County police officer. He used to run the county's Office of Emergency Management. As part of his responsibilities, he supervised the Auxiliary Police. That's how we met him. He said that Jo Ann walked in to his office for an interview and sat down. He said he couldn't believe that this beautiful woman wanted to volunteer her time for some lousy duty, without any compensation or public recognition. He was bowled over by her enthusiasm and radiant personality. Ray said that Jo Ann didn't just meet people - she captivated them! This from a hard-nosed Viet Nam combat veteran and ex street cop!

My daughter was talking with a friend at work and said that although she was an Italian girl, Jo Ann got a tremendous Irish funeral. I selected the reddest casket I could find, since that was her favorite color. I also had a friend from our parish make a pair of glass rosary beads for her while she was still sick. I asked that he make them in green white and red - the colors of the Italian flag. Other than that, she always wore a gold Claddagh ring* and a gold Celtic cross and chain, both presents from me. She wore them at her wake, too. We had a Celtic cross at each corner of her casket and a large Claddagh symbol inside the top of her casket. She couldn't escape my people, even in death.

About three years ago, Jo got the job she loved most in the world. A Grand Union supermarket opened up in the neighborhood and they wanted a babysitting room, where children could be watched while parents shopped. Jo Ann got the job, which she did part-time, several days each week. It was the best. She played videos, which she got from the store's rental library. She also played games, painted their faces, took photos of them, had them make seasonal cards - Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's day, Mother's Day, Father's Day, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Fourth of July and on and on and on. She made silly hats and crowns for the kids and was the hit of the store. Below are some sample photos of Jo's costumes and face painting.

She was SO loved by everyone, that I can't even begin to articulate most of the examples, but I'm attaching a copy of a letter from the seven year-old girl who used to live next door. The picture was on the other side of the letter. This child's mother handed the letter to me as we came into the back of the church for Jo Ann's funeral Mass. I read it in the limousine, between the church and the cemetery. "Out of the mouths of babes……"

Jo Ann, Father John Mckenna and BobThe priest who said Jo's Mass is a personal, as well as a religious friend. He gave a homily that I'm told left no eye in church dry. He visited Jo Ann several times, seeing her in every hospital. When I asked him to give Jo Ann the Last Rites, because I knew she was dying, he came right over to the hospital. He got there before I did, in fact. Trish (our daughter) said he was extremely upset; sharing our terrible sadness.

My older brother and a sister (from Eldersburg, MD), gave Jo's eulogy. I'm attaching a copy. This speaks volumes and is the result of all my siblings' contributing to the contents. I have no words up to the task of expressing my gratitude for their so sharing their love for the "fifth sister" to my family.

Jo Ann and I shared many things, including a love for music - many kinds of music. I share excerpts from the lyrics of three currently popular songs:

Female country artist: Leann Womack: "Never settle for the path of least resistance………
"If there's a choice to sit it out or dance,……I hope you dance".

From Celine Dion:
"You were my strength when I was weak
"Lifted me up when I couldn't reach
"You gave me faith 'cause you believe
"You were always there for me
"My world is a better place because of you
"I'm everything I am because you loved me"

Finally, from Lone Star:
"I can be your hero, baby, I can kiss away the pain
"I will stand by you forever. You can take my breath away."

She sure did!

She was all these things - and much, much more - to me.

I don't think she realized until the last few months of her life how many people loved - REALLY LOVED her. I kept showing her cards, relaying personal and telephone messages, delivering the flowers and other gifts all you lovely people kept showering on her.

I believe she really began to see then the impact she'd made on so many lives and I think it gave her some comfort.

Jo Ann Piscitello Wendelken went to heaven at 1:57PM on Monday, January 12, 2004. She died peacefully, surrounded by people who loved her, my daughter holding her right hand, with me holding her left.

What a loss! I'm certain that we'll survive, but I have no idea how.