Chris was a student of mine when I taught at Cardinal Newman HS between 1975-1980. An intelligent, perceptive, well-spoken and thoroughly delightful young man, he told me the story, now legend, about his trying to get a job as a bagger at Petrini's Supermarket. When his interview failed to persuade the manager to hire him, Chris handed him his business card, and said, "If something opens up, please consider me." So impressed was the manager that Chris was hired, moving from bagger to checker, then to student body president at Cardinal Newman and the same at his alma mater, Loyola Marymount.
After graduating from college Chris went to law school, became a respected trial lawyer before leaving law altogether and becoming the very young CEO of St. Francis winery in Kenwood, CA, where I found him again.
Last year he gave us a tour of the winery, punctuated by his "Wall of Shame", framed photographs of Chris with every president since Reagan, and an especially surprising one of him with Margaret Thatcher. Under his guidance the stature of the winery grew considerably, now hosting, too, what Open Table calls "the best restaurant in America." Chris donated much in the way of good will and money to the community. He was the chairman of the Board of Trustees at Memorial Hospital in Santa Rosa and held a number of both honorary positions where his name and reputation guaranteed success.
Chris and I were FB friends. He was a political centrist; I am liberal. More than once did he delete an ongoing conversation between us because it became too heated, and it was precisely the vitriol that his moderate sensitive mind wouldn't tolerate. I respected his opinion, and I've saved a conversation.
So what a surprise it was to discover that he had brain cancer...when he discovered the cancer he wrote, "...I have been so very lucky, successful beyond my wildest dreams with richness of family and some really wonderful—just wonderful friendships that continue to sustain me.
The ability to serve others has been my constant passion. Little did I know that this would bring me such depth of purpose. And the travel—oh, the travel—I have seen the world and been to the four corners of the earth and back.
Don't cry for me—not just yet. This has really been a wonderful life—so much richness and joy—everlasting joy—and I have not yet begun to fight..As my wonderful brother says, 'enjoy each day.' Amen."
So Frank, Marian, Jadyne, and I arrived at St. Rose at 9:30 for the 10:00 funeral mass. Knowing how loved Chris was, we knew that if we arrived later we wouldn’t have been able to sit. By 9:45 all the pews were filled, and people began lining up and down the aisles, then doubling up in the back of the church, in the vestibule, and outside. The two hour mass began shortly after 10:00, and was punctuated at the end by three “remembrances”—one by his best friend, and one each by his sister-in-law, and one by his brother. They were heartfelt, funny, touching, and kind, just as Chris was.
I asked the people sitting next to me, “How did you know Chris?” The husband said, “I was his doctor.” I asked him, “Were you the one who diagnosed his brain tumor?” He responded, “Yes.” I asked him how it happened. He said Chris was giving a tour of the winery and he forgot where the Zinfandel was. He came into the office and told the doctor of his experience, and the doctor had him take an MRI. Since there was no doctor in the imaging room Chris was able to sweet talk the technician into showing him the MRI before the doctor saw it.
Chris saw a very large tumor that had been growing for months. I don’t know how the doctor responded, but he told me that even if the tumor had been close to microscopic, not as large as the one in Chris’s MRI, the diagnosis would have been that this kind of brain cancer is terminal.
74 days between forgetting the Zinfandel and passing away. Again, I’m still reeling.
A funny story. Chris knew everyone. He was having dinner in NY when he saw at another table Henry Kissinger, Diane Sawyer, and Margaret Thatcher sitting together. Chris had the restaurant send over a bottle or two of the finest St. Francis wines from the restaurant’s cellar. They smiled and nodded. After dinner Chris went over and gave them his business card. He invited Margaret Thatcher to visit the winery. Not only did she do that, but she invited him to visit her in England and gave him an hour’s conversation.
We laughed at these stories and cried when we reflected on the losses that afflict us, that take us by surprise, that remind us that life is short, that we must make each day mean as much to us as we can, and these stories, these thoughts, simply punctuate for me the reasons why we need to tell the people we love that we love them. We can’t overdo this.