Day: October 5, 2026

My father-in-law, Julio Gonzalez was born on April 7, 1929 in Lares, Puerto Rico. He was the son of Dr. Modesto Gonzalez Olmo and Maricella Pagan. Julio spent his childhood and teen years in Lares enjoying the love and affection of his many aunts and uncles and cousins. He was a jovial child who liked baseball, loved people and delighted in spreading his ever present sense of humor. 

After graduating from high school Julio joined the army and soon found himself in Korea with a platoon of fellow Puerto Ricans. The war with North Korea left a kind of heaviness on his heart because he lost friends and witnessed the tragedies of war that never really left his memory. He was often reluctant to speak of that time and when he did the emotion in his voice was audible

Once he had performed his duty as an American citizen Julio traveled to Houston, Texas hoping to meet up with a friend from back home. In a strange twist of fate there was a mix up because Julio enrolled at the University of Houston but his friend was at Sam Houston University in Huntsville. It was a story that he often told because the ending to the tale was so happy.

Julio was sitting in the Cougar Den at the University of Houston one afternoon when a group of young women arrived and sat down to join him and his buddies. Among them was Mary Isabel Fisk who ended up seated next to him. They began a conversation that lasted long after the rest of the group had left. One thing led to another and after only a few months the two of them were madly in love and had decided to marry.

Mary Isabel had a five year old son from a previous marriage named Mike whom Julio immediately took under his wing and eventually adopted. The three of them quickly became a family. He soon found a job just down the road from where the trio lived at George Hormel and Sons, the company most famous for making Spam. He started out in the meat cooler but eventually took classes at Massey Business College and ended up working in the offices as an inventory clerk, bookkeeper and accountant.

The trio travelled across America and celebrated life as a family. Eventually Julio’s cousin from Lares, Dr. Efrain Garcia, moved to Houston to practice medicine. The two men and their wives and children became inseparable and Julio often said that Efrain was his brother-cousin. Those years together were joyful for everyone while Julio and Mary became ever more in love with each other.

Mary had been born with a heart defect and at one time was told that she would probably die before she was thirty. With the expertise of Efrain and his fellow cardiologists she lived far beyond expectations. As she and Julio welcomed grandchildren and then great grandchildren they still seemed like honeymooners celebrating one anniversary after another. 

Sadly Mary’s unexpectedly died from a stroke. Julio was bereft and even ended up becoming so ill that he required hospitalization. He overcame his illness and began playing bridge and going out in the evenings where he made many friends and eventually met his second wife, Janell Brooks.

Janell was so good for Julio. She put the spring back in his step. The two of them were in their seventies but seemed like two teenagers.They travelled all over the world and seized life with a gusto that was incredible. For almost twenty years they were quite the couple but then Janelle developed congestive heart failure and she too died.

Once again Julio was devastated and ended up in the hospital for a lengthy visit that even included overcoming a bout with Covid. When he was released he came to live with his son and daughter-in-law. For almost five years they enjoyed their time together. He spent his days learning knew things and listening to music on his computer. He liked to gather each evening over a glass of wine with cheese and crackers or a bowl of nuts where a lively discussion would ensue. Then he enjoyed a nice dinner and an evening of watching movies and television series.

While living with his son Julio religiously exercised to stay fit. In spite of the fact that he was in his nineties he looked far younger and enjoyed humor as much as ever. Last December he had a fall that left him bed bound until the present. It was a difficult time for him and eventually his doctor suggested that he enter hospice. Nonetheless he was clear headed and determined to extend his life as much as possible. Sadly his body began to slowly shut down and on Thursday, October 1, he died after a courageous battle that left him thin and weary.

Julio was a man of faith. A good man who loved deeply and did his best to care for the people around him. He was adored by all who knew him. He is survived by his son, Michael Burnett, daughter-in-law, Sharron, granddaughters, Maryellen Greene and Catherine Martin, their husbands, Scott Greene and Jeremy Martin, and great grandchildren, Andrew, Jackie, Benjamin, Eli, Ian, Abigail and William. He is also survived by his beloved nieces, Margarita, Roseann, Alicia, Sarah and Carmine and his sister, Linda. Numerous family members and friends will always remember him for his kindness and sense of fun. He was above all a very giving gentleman. May his memory be a blessing.

I rarely pass a Barnes and Noble Bookstore without going inside. Somehow I feel good just being there. I suspect it is because I associate bookstores with my father who let me tag along with him whenever he set out on a Saturday to purchase a new volume. Like him I have rather eclectic taste and never know what I might bring home to tuck away in the many nooks and crannies where I store by collection. 

I recently did some culling and filled a number of boxes with books that I read once and felt no compulsion to horde forever. I set aside the ones that appealed to my daughter and took the rest to sell at  Half Price Books. I earned a bit over five dollars which was a glorious coincidence because while I was waiting to learn what my pay out would be I found a book on Roman mythology that was so lovely and only cost five dollars. Of course I took it home.

I tell people that when I traveled with my father my souvenirs were always books. We once went to a store in Hollywood just down the street from the Walk of Fame that was several stories high and crammed with volumes of every kind. It appeared to be a place that had been there for decades and the every cranny smelled like paper and leather. I remember that I had a difficult time deciding what to choose but my father was not in a hurry to leave so I was able to consider all of the dozens of options. I ended up with a beautifully illustrated version of Cinderella and my five year old brother chose a book about tying knots. 

There is a quaint bookseller in New Orleans near the Sr. Louis cathedral. It is off the beaten path in Pirates Alley and has been named for the author William Faulkner who once lived and wrote nearby. It is one of the places that I must visit each time I travel to New Orleans. I somehow feel my father looking over my shoulder when I am there and smiling to know that I too have become enchanted by books. I most recently found a copy of William Faulkner’s first novel that he wrote while living in New Orleans. Soldiers Pay doesn’t not quite reach the level of brilliance that his later works achieved but it demonstrates his incredible ability to weave a tale with descriptions and characters that are spell binding.

I also found a small volume of strange words that have cropped up in the English vernacular over time. It is the kind of fun book that my father would have enjoyed. I can almost envision him laughing at the illustrations and descriptions and taking great delight in finding such a jewel. The best part is that I left that store having spent only a bit more than twenty dollars but feeling as though I had purchased forever treasures.

My greatest joy came from a spectacular find at the New Orleans History Museum on Royal Street. There an entire floor is devoted to the Audubon study of North American birds. Every page of the coffee table book is filled with gorgeous drawings of birds that John Audubon studied and recreated in life-sized watercolors. He spent years observing birds. Sadly he had to kill the birds to be able to accurately draw them which is a bit disconcerting but ultimately his The Birds of America is a treasure trove of beauty and information. 

I seem to find books that I must have wherever I travel. I laugh at the realization of how much my father impressed me with the joy of reading. I remember learning how to teach reading to very young people and the professor commented that when children witness their parents reading regularly they in turn want to learn that skill. I suppose that my father instilled that desire in me just as his father must have instilled it in him. I know for a fact that my grandfather was an avid reader who was still devouring books at the age of one hundred eight. Reading is firmly entrenched in my psyche and my family tree.

Most of the doodads and trinkets sold in souvenir shops end up being tossed aside over time but books are lovely reminders of our travels and the ways that we felt in different places around the world. I am often paying extra on my returns home because my luggage has become overly heavy with the volumes tucked inside. I gladly pay that price to have the ability to recreate my favorite moments by reading books related to them over and over again.

We can now read almost everything that has ever been written online which is wonderful but does not have the visceral appeal of holding a treasured volume in our hands. There is something quite magical about spending an afternoon sipping on a cup of tea while traveling to other worlds through the wonder of a good book. I suppose that I will continue adding to my collection wherever I go.