Like most guys my age, my first job was cutting grass.

 

It actually started more as a chore to help out around the house but there came a day when my parents would give me five bucks for my efforts. And for a kid growing up on the eastern shore of Maryland, five bucks meant I could go to corner store and get four packs of baseball cards, a white chocolate Nestle Crunch bar, an ice cold glass bottle of Coke and have change leftover.

 

When my family moved back to West Virginia I brought my lawn care skills with me. Eventually, in fact it was the summer between eighth grade and high school, I got the call up to the big leagues in regard to summertime grass cutting jobs.

 

Just down the road there was a cabin on a sizeable piece of property with an amazing view of the Buckhannon River. I started cutting grass there and made pretty good money for a high school kid.

 

The owner of the camp was Carmine Cann.

 

I cut the grass and did the weed eating at the camp through high school and my first few years of college before the duties were passed on to someone else as I just wasn’t around enough anymore.

 

Currently, I live even closer to that cabin than I did when I was cutting the grass there and many of the morning walks with my dog Oliver feature a perimeter check of the cabin, the row of pine trees on the back side, back down to the rock path to the river.

 

A few days ago, after our visit to the cabin, we headed back down the river road and across the main road so Oliver could go get his morning treat from my parents.

 

That same morning, my Mom greeted me with a tear in her eye and said, “Carmine has passed away.”

 

In the headline for Carmine’s obituary that can be read on Connect-Bridgeport HERE, the word iconic was used. That’s not a word that can be applied to just anyone but it only scratches the surface in ways to describe Carmine.

 

He was a titan in the legal universe as an attorney. He was a legendary figure on not just the Clarksburg and Bridgeport stages but for the entire state and it’s well-known how instrumental he was with the Italian Heritage Festival. The list of accolades goes on and on, as is it tends to do for icons.

 

My experiences with Carmine didn’t necessarily come from that part of his life though. Carmine was my friend and neighbor by the river. At least that’s how he always introduced me when it called for me to be introduced by him.

 

For me, it’s difficult to talk about Carmine and not mention his wife, Florence, who preceded him in death. Florence was a wonderful woman with an infectious laugh.

 

If somebody would have had the foresight to follow the two of them with a video camera, they would have the makings for the most entertaining and endearing TV show ever.

 

They loved each other so much. And I’m blessed to have had plenty of times to visit just the two of them at the cabin as they were often the first to arrive and the last to leave.

 

It wasn’t always family gatherings at the cabin, there have been quite a few fundraisers, business meetings and get togethers for some of the area and state’s movers and shakers.

 

I remember one in which Governor Gaston Caperton was at and Carmine was insistent that me and my Dad come over and eat.

 

That’s the thing with Carmine, there was absolutely no difference to him between the state’s governor and his friends and neighbors at the river.

 

Of course, Carmine always wanted us to come over and eat. It didn’t matter if it was prime rib alongside the state’s top officials or if it was just a sandwich with him.

 

From my vantage point, Carmine treated everybody the same and he listened to everybody the same.

 

My Mom is convinced Carmine had a photographic memory and I think she is right. He might occasionally give the impression that he wasn’t paying attention but then you would find out later how wrong you were when he would recount the entire conversation.

 

Carmine was the type of person that loved to help people but he never wanted the attention that came with his countless examples of good will.

 

My family saw it first-hand several times.

 

One day before making the trek back to Harrison County, Carmine and Florence pulled into the driveway at our house and my sister was sitting on the porch playing on her keyboard. It was a smaller keyboard and Jennifer was limited to what she could play on it. The next day, Carmine delivered her a much better, bigger professional style one and told her, “Let’s see what you can play on this one.”

 

Carmine bought me my first computer. I didn’t go to him, didn’t ask, didn’t prompt him, it was just one of those discussions where you might have thought he wasn’t paying attention. The next thing I know, I’m given a blank check and told, ‘Go get what you want, this is an early graduation present.’

 

Carmine’s kindness and compassion didn’t just come in the form of surprise gifts. It didn’t matter where Carmine was or who he was with, if he saw me he asked how I was, how my parents were doing. He had genuine interest in what I had done and what I had yet to do.

 

The morning after my sister Jennifer lost her battle with leukemia, Carmine and Florence were the first people to pull into my parent’s driveway and I will never forget the sadness, compassion and love in his voice as we grieved together.

 

Carmine had such a love for life. He loved his wife, he loved his children, he maybe loved his grandchildren more than anything. He loved his family, he loved his friends. He loved his Lord and Savior. He loved music. He loved his pine trees at the cabin. He loved WVU football. He loved a good hoagie. He loved helping people.

 

His legacy as a lawyer, a member of the legislature, an advisor, a public and civil official is unprecedented. But Carmine Cann’s true legacy is the love he shared every day of his life.

 

Goodbye my friend, my neighbor at the river. Me and Oliver will keep an eye on things for you.