Charles Albert Barnhart

We were in Rochester for the second time this month to lay Grandma’s brother, Charles, to rest. He suffered from Parkinson’s disease, was hospitalized for pneumonia, then his heart gave out. He was 81. He died on the 23rd. We were at the funeral home for the private service, then went to the cemetery for the service there. His wife and two sons were devastated by his death, as they were a very close family. I liked Charlie. He had a great sense of humor. Every once in a while, I’d call him an old fogey, and he’d say that was the pot calling the kettle black. I always had to agree, since I’ve had my old fogeyish moments. He called his sister “Brat”, and she came right back with “Rat”; they talked every Sunday. Toward the end, he was losing his hearing, so Grandma would have to shout into the phone. When they were done, she would tell me about the conversation and I’d have to remind her to stop shouting. We’ll miss him.