A Tribute to Dale

A Tribute to Dale 

For those not following me on social media, you should know that this weekend, we put to rest my brother-in-law Dale Elster.  Dale’s life was cut short in the earliest morning hours of May 31, 2022; Dale was 56 when he passed.  Dale was not without his ailments and health issues, but the proximate cause of his death was not any of those things, as it seems.  His wife, my spouse’s sister, woke up to him having a seizure in the middle of the night, and beyond that I wish not to delve further.

 

His daughter, my niece and god-daughter, asked in a Facebook post that we share a story about her dad so that she might have a collection of such remembrances to look back on to keep his memory alive for her and all of us.  As I posted there, it would take a bit to do so, but I would acquiesce to her request gladly.  To that end, what follows is both story and tribute to a very special human being whom I was privileged to know, in a unique way.

 

Let’s start then with the story of the first meeting.  I had been in a relationship with my wife of 24 years, for going on 2 years, I think, when the occasion was available to meet both her sister, Jannette (Jan) and her long-term boyfriend at the time, Dale.  They were living in an apartment in Auburn, a converted garage, and the entertainment of the evening was watching the retro-hit: Emergency!  As a group of Gen-Xers, we just delved right into the heart of the part sit-com/part drama that was the show that ran for 6 seasons, stepping back into our youths and the way TV had been.  Dale, having lived in SoCal, actually knew some of the places in question, and “Station 51”, “Rampart Hospital” and doing things “stat” were all familiar to us.  All I really remember, besides the TV viewing, was how I just liked Dale.  Dale just had this way of making you at ease, even when you might otherwise stress. He also had a true US northeasterner biting sarcasm to boot.  It wasn’t so hard a bite that you resented it, but it was the kind of chiding that you could really appreciate.

 

Several events passed, including the passing of Al Clifford (Jackie and Jannette’s father), their wedding (which they were kind enough to let me escort my still girl-friend at the time, Jackie), Baldwin family events, and much more.  To be succinct, marrying into the Clifford/Baldwin clan was not for the faint of heart.  First, you had Dan and Andrew, Jan and Jackie’s brothers, who were separated by a bit (5 years) from Jackie and (8 years) from Jan.  Both were in prime adolescents at the time and challenged by the declining health of their father.  Then you had the fact that Jill, my mother-in-law, came from a brood of children from Cato, NY, too many to count, that made any Baldwin family gathering a true test of your ability to match names with faces (often being reminded there was going to be a quiz at the end).  And lastly, as the only two sons-in-law to two very strong Clifford women … well let’s just say we had a ton in common.  I won’t say that Dale, in all these things, was my “wing-man” but often we were able to get in a few side moments where we could compare notes, commiserate as well as celebrate the choice in life-mates/families we had made.

 

That and the many other things we shared.  Like Jackie and I, Dale was a fan of Star Trek, and especially Star Trek:  The Next Generation.  The fandom of this Gene Rodenberry inspired Sci-Fi franchise was really core to us.  We would often criticize or appreciate the next installment, reboot, or reinvention.  But I also appreciated that we were not so parochial about Sci-Fi generally that we couldn’t appreciate the other franchises that were vying for our attention, including Star Wars and many others.  That said, many a beer was cracked open by the USS Enterprise bottle opener I bought him one Christmas.

 

Speaking of beer, and this is another thing that we had in common.  Dale was, and always remained, at first, at Chef.  Sadly after managing to hack off a finger or two too many (more on that later), he was put on long-term disability.  That, however, did not stop him from trying to be inventive/creative and making a go at the home-brew world.  Dale understood, I think, the value of how a beverage of a unique character, like wine, a mixed drink, or malt beverage, could pull a meal together.  While not adverse to wine, either of us, he took to brewing as his outlet for how to make a meal complete.  What was great about “Dale Beer” was not only the fantastic brew, but the artistry of the label.  He had a knack for figuring out how to make something unique, without it becoming an over hopped nightmare or yet another fruity R’ us concoction.  And then he came up with a great name and an even better label.  Among his most famous was the “Dale’s Incarcerator Double Bock” (named for Auburn’s state prison) as well as his “Gunpowder Porter”.  Being a fellow “beer snob” we’d really get into the discussions on his creations and what was happening in the market generally, as the micro-brew craze was just taking off.  To that, one evening, I said I thought that the idea of a single bock with a lime zest might be a real awesome brew.  Some months later, as I returned home from a combat tour in Iraq, Dale took the special effort to create “Backus Bock” from said discussion.  It’s not often that you find a brother-in-law that literally makes your favorite beer, but that was Dale.

There were countless other areas we converged, even as we had others we diverged.  He was a true workingman who had experiences coast-to-coast; I was from a family of working people and teachers, who were deep in the construction industry.  So in part we knew each other, but it was different.  I was a military veteran, and Dale was a veteran of life, often times not the easiest to him.  I mentioned the chopping off a finger or two above, and one of those places we diverged was his love of the horror genre.  In part because I have seen the realities of gratuitous violence in war, and in part because there are other reasons to be scared, I just couldn’t engage in that part of his world (even as I was exceptionally appreciative to be a part of his horror writing career).  Another was on faith/religion, where I am a fairly religious person, Dale more or less eschewed faith.  That said, I must be candid in saying, this was never a point of all-out division, but rather a mutually appreciative set of perspectives.  Dale, in my estimation, was a deep humanist, or perhaps humorist is more apt.  Having him be a part of the baptism of his children and several other religious rituals, was, I think a part of his ability to navigate a middle way, even absence any proclivity to belief on his part.  He respected that which he did not have himself, and to that, I was very respectful of his critiques, thoughts, and divergences, even as I did not hold to the same.

 

Finally, there is the part which was the “true Dale”.  Dale was not flawless, he knew it.  He had his issues, his problems, his own foibles, and that was who he was.  That said, he was at all times generous.  And in generous, I don’t mean financially, albeit that might be how too many Americans might take the forgoing statement.  No, he was generous in being humble enough to know that if he had problems others did too.  He gave time, space, and opportunity to those around him to be heard and to be able to know he was “in their corner”.  Now this didn’t mean he wouldn’t cut you down in a joke or some other sarcastic remark, that you more often than not needed to hear.  But what I am talking about that Dale was generous in his love.  Now I can wax poetic about the kind of love that he exhibited (cf. The Four Loves, by CS Lewis), but Dale hit them all, depending on who you were and what you needed.  And that was Dale’s special magic.  He knew love, he knew the brokenness, and his response was not to give up, not to give in, but to embrace, even in a cutting satire, what we need(ed) to hear.

 

On my own part, it is going to be hard to be back for family events without Dale.  He could be a rock or at least a sounding board.  He was the kind of man that loved his family and they loved him.  This will not stop, nor should it.  He is gone in the corporeal sense, but he is alive in our memories, in our loves, and in our sharing with one another.  Dale, it is my sincere hope that the photon torpedo casket that we just sent you out on, lands in a strange new world, one that no one, and no being, has ever seen or appreciated as much before.