Eulogy
Eulogy for JOSEPH JAMES DUTY January 25, 1971 – August 13, 2023 I am Joe's sister, Jill. Joe, Jason, and I enjoyed a great childhood together here in Riverdale – raising animals for the fair; playing at Grandma & Grandpa Duty’s farm; Christmas programs at this church; swimming every day all summer; playing soccer; riding and wrecking three-wheelers behind the primary school; jumping off the house into the pool; football games; and more. Through it all, Joe found adventure and lifelong friends. As siblings, Joe and I shared a bond that was a blend of rivalry and affection – although rivalry took center stage. Joe and I fought – a lot. As the big sister I was the boss, and Joe was the pesky younger brother. He loved to antagonize me and seemed to thrive on getting under my skin. On long car rides, he would scooch himself as close to my side as possible in the back seat, then grin at me in defiance. When I was in third grade, we were studying Hawaii and Mrs. Christensen made homemade poi for us. I remember taking my batch home because I knew it would taste better with sugar on it. Joe put salt in the sugar bowl, then cracked up watching me take my first and only bite. Or, the time he asked me if I wanted the last cookie, only to lick it before handing it over to me. I loved being in charge, and Joe challenged me at every turn. Ironically, Joe grew up to become the boss. I envied his career, his success, and the impressive, professional legacy he built – so evident by the number of colleagues gathered here today. I am immensely proud of him. Joe had a true passion for sports and certainly loved a good rivalry. He played football in high school and was known as the Boz after Brian Bosworth; he even shaved his number into his hair. He was a lifelong Niners’ fan through championships and slumps. He loved the Celtics enough to ink their logo on his shoulder. And let's not forget his dedication to the San Francisco Giants; he attended countless games, from the Candlestick days to recent ones at Oracle Park. I'm sure we all have sports-related memories of Joe – Giants’ games with friends, that special trip to the Notre Dame game, Super Bowl parties, or just wishing he would shave during the playoffs. Joe was more than a brother; he was also "Uncle Joe.” He was proud of his niece and nephews; I wish they each had had more time to know him better. I pray they fondly remember getting thrown into the pool, horseplay and headlocks, him patiently teaching them how to dive head-first into the pool, and for my boys, that unforgettable trip to Maggini's for driving lessons. When I asked if he was sure that he wanted them driving his beloved new truck, his response was simple, "What? I'm insured." Joe was mostly hard-headed, gruff, and guarded. He played his emotions close to the vest and had a soft side that was virtually unseen. He could surprise you with unexpected gifts, generosity, and connection – like boxes of chocolate, hosting a barbeque, heartfelt conversations over a few beers, or going to church with Mom for Mother’s Day. Joe was a master of the barbeque arts. He carefully researched recipes for marinades, rubs, and injections, and then perfected them with his own signature. Over the years, he probably owned as many grills as he did cars and trucks. We were all lucky enough to indulge in his slow-cooked masterpieces from brisket and tri-tip to his infamous crab boil. Picture him in his Giants’ cap, manning the grill with a beer in his hand. If you ever rode anywhere with Joe, you probably listened to XM Channel 32, U2 Radio. U2 was his all-time favorite. I remember his first apartment – completely devoid of family photos – but graced by a framed picture of Bono in the living room. His favorite album was "The Joshua Tree." I can see him with his jaw set, strumming wild air guitar to the Edge's jangly riffs. He introduced me, along with many others, to the power of their music. Joe encouraged me to listen closely to U2's lyrics, and I, too, fell in love with Bono's soaring voice and profound words, like: "I'm not broke but you can see the cracks." “A boy tries hard to be a man. His mother takes him by the hand. If he stops to think, he starts to cry.” “To touch is to heal, to hurt is to steal. If you want to kiss the sky, better learn how to kneel.” And, “You broke the bonds. And you loosed the chains. Carried the cross of my shame.” Joe found his connection to God through U2. Joe dedicated his life to his career. He sometimes, if not often, missed family occasions because of his commitment to his job. Yet, he considered his people his family. His retirement plans included fishing, traveling, and reconnecting; it breaks my heart that he did not get that chance – that we did not get that chance. So, I truly don’t know if it’s irony or fate that he left us so early. Because I can hear his voice: “If you’re early, you’re on time; if you’re on time, you’re late.” Rest in peace, brother. In the words of U2, “I know that this is not goodbye.”
