Page 4: In Memory of
Harry Brabec,
as recounted by his wife, Barbara
Life as Mrs. Harry Brabec
Harry was always a risk-taker in both his daily and professional lives–a daring
improviser who lived for the moment and rarely worried about the future. Impetuous,
gregarious and sharp-witted, he always saw the funny side of any
situation and was quick to share his humorous quips with me or anyone
else who happened to be within speaking distance. He appreciated fine
art, handmade products, and good cooking, especially mine. (I never saw
him say no to any new dish set before him anywhere in the world, but he
couldn’t abide marshmallows.)
An avid reader who always had a stack of books on his night stand
waiting to be read, Harry also subscribed to several newspapers,
magazines and newsletters, and he was constantly clipping something from
them to add to one of his many scrapbooks, all the while listening to
music from his eclectic collection of tapes, LPs and CDs. Even when he
was no longer playing professionally, his life was wrapped in music, and
his tastes ran from classical and easy listening to big bands, marching
bands and circus music, to instrumentals, percussion, and vocals. All the
while he lay in a coma during the last days of his life, I kept the music
playing in the belief that he was hearing it and being comforted by it.
My life with Harry was often filled with financial uncertainty due to
his being a freelance musician and entrepreneur, but it was always
jam-packed with love, adventure, music, travel, laughter, surprise and romance.
We met on a blind date in front of Fourth Presbyterian Church
in Chicago on August 8, 1961 after a friend had suggested he just call me
to set up a date. "How will I know you?" I asked,
and he said, "Just look for a guy who looks like the last of the
Mohicans who’s wearing baggy pants and has a rose in his teeth."
With just 22 cents in cash and a check from the Chicago Symphony in his
pocket, he had taken a risk by inviting me to dinner in hopes
that I could find someone on a Sunday night who would cash the check
(which I did). In just ten minutes' time, I knew he was impatient like me, blunt and to the point,
delightfully charming, very sentimental, and
absolutely nuts.
We had five dates in a row and on the way home from the fifth one, he
astonished me by saying," Incidentally, I’m going to marry you. You
might be thinking about it a little bit." And then, "I’ll
call you for lunch tomorrow." All in one breath. "You’re
nuts," I said, and he said, "Get used to it." We were
married two weeks later, and we would have been married 44 years this August.
Once, when we were making up titles for our imagined autobiographies,
Harry picked for himself, "The World is Round, But I Am Square." And he
had it right when he said a fitting epitaph for him might be, "He was
always difficult, but he never was a bore." But what I'll remember most
about Harry as I grow older is that he loved me more than anyone else on
earth, and one of his main goals in life was to make me and other people
laugh.
Harry truly was the last of a dying breed. He will be missed by many,
but none more than me.
.