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Here's one of my favorite stories about an old friend.  God bless Bert!

Joe's Two Cents
12-27-07

Bro’ Bert

“It’s truly a pleasure to meet you!” he would say in that booming, articulate voice of his, the first time he met you.  That greeting was almost immediately followed by “And what do you know about the Knights?”    It was the usual challenge that he tossed to every male who crossed the threshold of St. Jude Parish.  Never tiring of it, never wavering from the message.  Those who had heard it before - without committing on the spot to his offer to take a look at the Knights of Columbus - would flee whenever he approached, knowing full well that he would ask them again.  And they didn’t want to say “No” to him, because that could turn into a debate.  And it could go on for hours.  And they’d ultimately lose.  He was a pretty persuasive guy…

Bert was my idol.  He was the finest speaker I had ever heard, whether lectoring at St. Jude on Sunday morning, addressing the Rotary Club on Wednesday morning, or chatting up a storm with anyone just about any other morning.  You may have caught him over the years, as the Master of Ceremonies on the bandstand at the Town Common during Old Home Day.  Everyone would listen up because…well, he made you feel that you should listen. 

Bert was the consummate old fashioned salesman.  If you never had the opportunity to run from his Knights speech, you may have had that opportunity when he started to tell you the Amway story.  He was a salesman who knew his product, who believed in what he sold.  He would look down on you with that sincere smile of his, a six-foot-something hulk of a man, usually attired in some brightly colored pink, orange, or yellow sport coat.  And the neatest part about it was that he passionately believed in what he was telling you.  He knew no other way.

Perhaps you had the opportunity to display a weakness to Bert.  Maybe you once admitted to him that you just couldn’t find the time to volunteer in the community, with your tight work schedule.  Or that you just couldn’t stop smoking.  Or that you weren’t able to get to church last Sunday, because – heaven forbid - your kids had a hockey game at 5 a.m. that morning.  Merely excuses, all of them, in Bert’s mind.  He didn’t take kindly to the phrase “couldn’t”.  It wasn’t in his vocabulary.   But he wouldn’t chastise you for your weakness.  Instead, he’d admonish you with one of his parables – like the story of how he used to drink all the time.  It started to become a real problem for him.  So he stopped.  Cold turkey.  Just like that, without the aid of Alcoholics Anonymous or any other support group.  And he wasn’t bragging.  He was just telling you that you can overcome these little things – that nothing is impossible.

Bert was stricken with cancer a number of years ago.  He was cancer-free for awhile.  But it came back. And when his doctors told him he didn’t have much time, he surprised them by taking a holistic approach to his disease.  Watching his diet, concentrating on the spiritual side of healing.  He lived a number of years longer, showing them all up.  Nothing was impossible.

As proud as Bert was, he realized that he would, on occasion, need to accept the help of others.  Especially over the last year or so, when his strength really started to fade.  And that was the beauty of his faith in God – he knew pride was a sin.  So he accepted the help of his fellow Knights and friends, who virtually rebuilt his home.  Our last project was building an access ramp from his front door down to the driveway.  He’d sit on his stool at the top of the ramp, sometimes directing us, but mostly just enjoying being with us, as we enjoyed being with him.  Tossing barbs at each other, because that’s just how it was.

I visited Bert in the hospital a few weeks ago, after receiving word that he would soon be leaving us for good.  When I walked into the room, what’s Bert trying to do?  Why, get out of bed, of course.  So I queried him “Bert, I thought you were dead!”  He wasn’t able to talk really, but he leaned back in his bed, with a big smile on his face, and actually laughed.  “Hi, Joe,” was all he said.  It’s not just anyone whom you can say that to, and have him take it the way you meant it.  Of all things, Bert was not afraid of dying.

Bert Boucher finally succumbed to his cancer 11 days before Christmas.  And about two years after the doctors last told him his time was short.  He was buried in his baby blue sport coat, of course.  I guess Ginny couldn’t find the yellow one.  He still had his pure white goatee than made him look like Burl Ives.  One of my Brother Knights put a little sticker in his casket that read “Ask Me About the Knights”.  We thought about putting a ‘Hillary For President’ bumper sticker on the end of the casket.  But that would have been a cruel joke, given his conservative politics.  Even though he would have laughed.  Maybe…

And so we said goodbye to our friend Bert.  Passed him on to God, who I’m sure has His hands full now.  I’ve no doubt that Bert has already sold Him an Amway water filter, some toothpaste, and a box of that concentrated laundry detergent.

Goodbye, Bro’ Bert.  Thanks for pushing us all these years.  And save us a couple of seats up there, will ya?