Stories & Cherished Memories

Tells Mom Everything

CONTRIBUTOR: Mark Parvu, Younger Brother

When the amigo brothers were all still living at home, granny would often say she was raising 5 boys…. Moshe, Dart, Ron, John & Mark. She called it a ‘boot camp’. So us 3 boys started calling Granny ‘Sarge’ behind her back! Fast forward 15 years. We were all adults now, and together in Florida. John sheepishly looked at Mom and asked if she could guess what secret nickname we had for her (not smart John). Mom looked at John and said, “Do you think I’m dumb? You call me Sarge.” Broke us all up! She liked the name and we still use use it.

Time Well Spent

CONTRIBUTOR: Leah Doak, Daughter

I have a very fond and happy memory of Pop taking me to go fishing down the street on Thompson Road in Gahanna, Ohio. It was between the ages of 6-10... He bought me a bamboo fishing pole and fish eggs for bait. We would walk about 1/4 - 1/2 mile down the street to where there was a bigger creek and a bridge over the creek. I loved the walk there and back... time with my Papa... when we got there he taught me how to bait the hook with my benign fish eggs. He showed me how to gently cast the rod into the still and straightforward creek. What I did not see at the time were the bountiful parallels into my father's personality, and my own. Reflected like a mirror from that tiny, ambiguous creek were life lessons that were well ahead of my time. Those fishing trips taught me to be patient, still, and quiet. To blend in, like I did in Ecuador. To be adaptable, like I did when I had children. To accept disappontment, as I have in all parts life on this side of Armageddon. Forty years later I understand the lesson and thank him for it from the bottom of my heart.

My Dad

CONTRIBUTOR: Jake Parvu

It was the summer of 1998. I decided to move to New York so I could be closer to my girlfriend. My parents (and I am certain my girlfriend's parents as well) did not agree that we should be dating at all. Although we ignored their good advice, I don't recall my Dad or my Mom fighting me on it or insisting that we agree with conventional wisdom or their opinions, even if they were correct. Pop really just observed & let nature take it's course, ready to be of service if needed. The picture here is from the day I drove away, to New York, to date my now wife of 25 years, Amanda. After I was in New York for a while things progressed to the point of engagement and when it was time to come home and get things ready for the wedding, my Dad flew to New York, jumped in the truck with me and made the trip back home to Florida. We had a nice drive back, he was very positive about our plans, even though he didn't fully agree it was a good idea, as long as we were doing things right - he supported our decision. He didn't ask for anything... He just flew up and helped me drive home. It was a time I got to share, just my Dad and me and I am so grateful it is locked in my memory. Dads doing Dad things are often taken for granted. Without asking for anything in return they work for us, build things for us, help us move, help us work on our houses and the list goes on and on. I just wish I had figured that out earlier, I could have used my time with him more wisely.

The Big Bang

CONTRIBUTOR: Anne Burdette, Cousin

We were all going on a picnic (could have been the one when the picture was taken) and were standing out in the driveway waiting for our parents to pack the cars when we heard this LOUD explosion. Our Dad’s thought it was a water tank that had blown up. Come to find out your Dad overfilled his bicycle tires and one of them blew. I thought your Grandpa was going to have a fit. My Dad and Uncle Pete were both laughing which I think made your Grandpa even madder. Your Dad just stood there with a guilty looking face.

The Big Cousin

CONTRIBUTOR: Charlie Choken, Cousin

I loved your dad and your uncles more than I think most do of their cousins. I'm sure you've heard endless stories about how close our extended family was but it was true. I miss those days. All the best stories about your dad I've gotten second hand from your uncles, grand parents and my siblings. What I can add is that you dad had this easy going way about him that I always admired. He always made time to talk to me at any family gathering and I could tell was genuinely interested in how I was doing and what was happening in my life. I do remember in grade school I took up guitar playing and my mom bought me this cheap department store guitar. Your dad was working at a guitar shop at the time and took the guitar and basically rebuilt it into a decent musical instrument. He of course wouldn't take any money for it but he did let my mom buy him lunch.

The New Year's Ritual

CONTRIBUTOR: Pam Cipiti Chatelain, Cousin

My dad was John’s Uncle Buzz. Uncle Buzz was a tough guy. He was loud and opinionated. He loved his family fiercely, but could easily tick off family, friends, and neighbors with his boisterous personality. (That’s just a little background on my dad so you get the picture.)

My cousin John liked him. John called Uncle Buzz EVERY New Year’s Eve. They exchanged jokes and familiar banter. It was an important midnight ritual. My dad looked forward to John’s call and even had a Romanian greeting for him. I can’t spell what that was – sorry! But that was a great way for my dad to start the new year.

Then in 2005, my dad went into a nursing home and the New Year’s Eve calls stopped. But what a memory. I can’t tell you enough how much it meant to my dad.

John and his former wife Kim gave Jeff and me a special wedding gift in 1979. It was a dining room buffet. I know John and family were moving and really didn’t want this huge antique any more, but it was very nice of them to gift it to us. Its first home was 2178 4th St. in Kenmore where John grew up. It stayed in that dining room for 9 years. It is now in our dining room in Wadsworth. When we were remodeling our home I had a friend of mine, who is an interior decorator and a furniture expert, tell me to NEVER get rid of it!!! Keep it exactly how it is. And that is exactly what we intend to do.

So, you see, I have a piece of John living with me every day and for that I am so grateful.

John’s Cousin always,
Pam Cipiti Chatelain

The Classmate

CONTRIBUTOR: Janis D. Froelich, Cousin

I wasn’t wildly ambitious in Junior High. Who is? But my cousin John sparked an interest I had, namely writing, into a lifelong career.

John entered the 7 th grade and I the 8 th in 1959 at the newly opened Innes Jr. High on East Ave. in Akron. We weren’t exactly thrilled to be going to a school in its maiden year. There was no history like at our beloved Kenmore community schools.

But John had the idea to start up an Innes newspaper. He declared I could be editor and he would be art director. OK, sounds good. This would make brownie points with our teachers plus give us a reason to get to know a bunch of other students.

John thought we should hold a contest to name the newspaper. The school was named after a longtime Kenmore guy Walter J. Innes, a military man killed in action in France in 1944. Innes had a Scottish background. So John came up with the newspaper name, “Highlander Hi-Lites.”

I liked it and so did all the others involved. That was the start of my leading a school newspaper. I went on to be editor of the Kenmore Cardinal and John became art director when he joined the high school a year later.

After that, I was named editor of the Daily Kent Stater. Then working at five newspapers in 40 years followed. What a career – all centered on writing!

John was a wonderful artist joined by his two brothers, Mark and Ron, who also were very creative. My dad Pete was an artist as well. But I was the lone writer – at least, the one who held many jobs with my skills.

So I’m always thankful to John that he suggested we join forces and get the school newspapers done right!

The Gum Snatcher

CONTRIBUTOR: Pam Parker Karr, Sister-in-law

One of the earliest memories I have of John was when I was 9 yrs old . I used to bring gum to the Kingdom Hall my mom’s favorite (chicklets). He must have been 14 or so and he would be passing the mics at the Kingdom Hall. As he would pass my seat I would put a chicklet on the arm of my seat and he would swipe it as he passed by. He was so handsome and of course he was alway looking at his reflection in the glass combing his hair. ❤️

Dart

CONTRIBUTOR: Sue Pepple, Cousin

A sister in our congregation had gotten a new German Shepherd puppy. She sent me pictures of it, since I love dogs so much. I knew my cousin John had a special fondness for German Shepherds, so I forwarded the pictures to him. After he received the pictures, John called me and reminisced about how he used to play with Dart. We had such a nice conversation. Afterwards, John went through his old pictures and sent me 2, one with his dad and one with his mom, with Dart when he was just a puppy. He also sent me one when Dart was full grown. John was sitting on the couch and Dart was sitting on the floor in front of him. I had forgotten how huge Dart was! Anyway, it was a great picture of John (and Dart, too), and I've showed it to several of my friends. I really enjoyed sharing those memories with my dear cousin.

The Surfer

CONTRIBUTOR: Helen Surbey, Cousin

This was sometime in the winter of 68 thru 71, not sure when but this is when me, John and Ron all worked in the advertising department of downtown O'Neil's department store. I lived with my mom and dad on top of the 6th street/Harrison Avenue hill on Harrison Avenue in Kenmore.

No way of getting there w/o navigating a steep hill, not fun in winter. I would catch a ride from Ron or John. John drove that day I assume cause weather was so bad and he was just on 4th street at John & Geneva's. It was a particularly cold, snowy icy morning. To get to downtown we would go down Harrison Avenue to a cross street and over to Clearview Ave. Clearview Ave was another treacherous hill to navigate in winter.

As we approached the hill we could see cars that were coming up were stuck and having issues. So your dad thought it best to step out of his '61red Chevy Impala 2-door hardtop (awesome car!!) to scope out if it was safe to try to make it down the hill.

Not sure if he was wearing any kind of boots or just his street shoes. So he gets out of the car, takes a few steps and he's off, starts sliding down the hill out of sight! - And its not a short hill, prob at least tenth of a mile maybe. Some minutes later I finally see him coming up the hill, laughing his *** off. He had slid/surfed all the way down to Manchester Road on his feet not falling once. Figured if he could make it down so could the ImpalaEmoji and we probably made it to work on time. That has been more than 50 years ago and I can still see him coming back to the car laughing and I laugh all over again too.

So there's my cousin John story. Your dad was the kindest, easy going best looking cousin a family could have. Our childhood experiences growing up in the apartment on 4th street were the best and I know all of us cousins feel especially blessed for that, we were more like brothers and sisters than cousins with extra sets of parents. Thanks for letting me tell my story.

Take care,

Helen Surbey (or as cousin Ron named me that sticks to this day - Woots)

Watch the Hair Man...

CONTRIBUTOR: Kim Reed , First Wife

I will never forget growing up with and around John. When he would walk into the Kingdom Hall, there was a glass windows surrounding the library and it was to the immediate left of the entrance door. He would be one step inside the door and like Zorro, out came THE BRUSH. Like a flash he would brush his hair give himself the "Ok" nod, confirming that the hair was perfect. Then he would turn around & in a flash - the brush disappeared into his inside suit jacket! As I grew up around him, I could say this never stopped. It did change to a comb eventually. You can see that hair in his graduation picture - He had great hair.

There was always music in the house and I’m so happy that John's love for playing the guitar got passed on to Jake & now to his grand children - Cyrus, Ivan, Anaya and Ana. It was a talent for sure. John was also talented in making and repairing guitars. He loved working with guitars and creating amazing paint work for them. He also had a wonderful talent for gardening and growing all kinds of fruits, veggies and herbs for his family.

Art Club KHS

CONTRIBUTOR: Mark Parvu, Brother

KHS class of ‘65. You lost one of your best this week. My older brother John Perv, died from long term medical complications. He had just turned 77. John was a gifted artist. In the photo posted here from the ‘64 yearbook, he is with his favorite art teacher Mr. Hale, and on his left is a “S. Cain”, possibly from class of ‘66. John worked many years with Virgil Lay (Lay’s Guitar Shop on Kenmore Blvd.) as a luthier. Gone, but never forgotten. RIP big brother.

The Travel Companion

CONTRIBUTOR: Pete Perv , Cousin

In the summer of 1969 before both John (age 22) and I were married, we took a car trip from Akron down to Jacksonville, North Carolina to visit a sister John was interested in. I don't remember how he met her anymore, but it was 650 miles each way so we had a lot of time to talk about our growing up days at the apartment house in Kenmore.

On the Sunday we were there, we went to the meeting and although it was in 1969 the congregations were still segregated! This was very unusual for both of us coming from the north. Although that trip was 55 years ago I still have very fond memories of the time I got to spend with my cousin John...

I'm not sure of the exact date but it was sometime during 1976 to 1979 when I regularly travel to Trinidad while working for BF good rich in Akron when I told John about my travels he asked me if I could bring him back a steel drum also known as a steel pan.

These are made from the bottom of a 55 gallon industrial drum. Depending on how it is made the surface will produce different pitches when played using a pair of drumsticks tipped with rubber. I can't remember if I got him a pair of those too, I do remember carrying it back with me on the flight home. I think John was living in Columbus, Ohio at the time, so I got it down to him, but never did hear him play it. Since it is the national instrument of both Trinidad and Tobago I used to hear them being played all the time during my visits. Glad I was able to make John happy and now I wonder whatever happened to it...

During one of my many sales trips to Puerto Rico, I was able to take a Saturday after working all week in and around San Juan to visit John and Rosa who were living at the time on the little island of Vieques, a 20 minute flight from San Juan. I rented a car so they could show me around the island and we had a nice lunch at one of the few restaurants on the little island. They also showed me the local congregation and said that several of the elders had to travel there each week (for the meetings) on the ferry from San Juan. All in all it was a very enjoyable day and I'm glad I was able to spend the time with them and get to know Rosa better. These are just three of the many good memories I have of my dear cousin John, and I'm glad I was able to share them again.

Always Time For Yard Work

CONTRIBUTOR: Jake Parvu

My Dad was so reliable. You could count on him to do EXACTLY what you thought he might do. We used to play catch in front of the house. We would throw a baseball or a football. Usually pretty fun until Pop saw a weed growing... The he could NOT help himself, in between tosses he was pulling weeds. Sometimes I would get bored and yell at him and he would jump up and play some more. In the picture here he is succumbing to his nature yet again at my sister's wedding photo shoot in 1997. Our parents loved working in the yard so it was beautifully landscaped. In between photos you could see Pop pulling weeds or watering plants. - Classic!

A Dear Uncle

CONTRIBUTOR: Ryan Karr , Nephew

I fondly remember my Uncle John from the visits we made to Florida when I was a young boy. He seemed to always have a serious expression on his face, framed by his warm, dark skin.

What stands out to me are the times I saw him in his suit, always present at the meetings, dedicated and earnest. I can still picture his father, whom we affectionately called Moshu, and Uncle John’s Toyota truck, a delightful tan color adorned with unique graphics. Those memories fill my heart with warmth.

He took me out to show me his beautiful garden and the trees that dotted the property. I remember the watch he wore, a sleek metal band glinting in the sunlight. As I write this, it almost feels like I’m drafting a report, but really, I’m just capturing my thoughts and memories of him.

He was a man of remarkable talent, especially when it came to drawing—a skill I admired deeply, though I never quite inherited it. My cousins share that creativity, and I always appreciated the beauty they could express through their art. Uncle John loved spending time outdoors, connecting with nature in a way that seemed to bring him joy.

In many ways, he reminded me of a character straight out of “Happy Days”—a figure of warmth and nostalgia. His life was filled with spiritual significance, and I remember he hosted book studies and field service groups at his home, bringing people together in meaningful ways.

When I think of him now, I imagine creating a sweet work of art to honor his memory, a piece of art that would make him proud. I can almost see him smiling and giving me a thumbs up, his approval lighting up the moment, just like my memories of him.

No One Ever Called Me That Before

CONTRIBUTOR: Leah Doak

It was a typical hot, sticky Florida day. I was about 16 and outside weeding the flower beds. Sweat dripped into my eyes as I bent over the weeds and avoided fire ants the best I could. I don't think this dreaded work was voluntary. I have a hazy recollection that I was serving time for having been speaking disrespectfully to my mother.

After I finished, I walked into the garage to get out of the sun and Pop was there. I found a rag and wiped my red, hot face. I said something to the effect of "Man....I'm a hot, sweaty mess!" Pop smiled at me and said "You are beautiful." That was the first time that anyone had called me beautiful- not cute, not pretty... beautiful. And at my worst! No makeup, blotchy red and sweaty, hair sticking out everywhere, I'd never felt more unattractive!

It was an event that made me think about how important it is to be with people who really love you for who you are, who see you as beautiful even in your most unattractive moments. It was another great life lesson that Pop taught me and that I'm very thankful for. I will certainly never forget the first man who called me beautiful.