A special tribute to Vlodj (Walter) Fryz written by Danylo Mykula (Vlodj’s Godson, Nephew, Dearest Friend) was tearfully read at the wake on Sunday:
Vlodj was someone very special to me. My first memories of Vlodj was riding down Wickes Avenue on the front handlebars of the new ten-speed bike I believe my mom bought him. I remember being so scared, and Vlodj trying a bit extra to make it more scary. From the ten speed, it moved to his brown VW rabbit (there was a black and orange Capri but my memory is a bit hosed). I remember him pushing the seat all the way up and slowly building speed as we drove around the curve on Frederic Street as he drove me home from hanging out at my Babcha’s house after a day of Ihor making Fryz’s famous lemonade, Mish lying on a few sleeping bags in front of a recliner watching TV telling me how he got the birthmark on the back of his calf. Those times were so simple, for me at least, and will forever be entrenched as my best memories.
My memory flashes to riding in a ford escort, black I think. This was really the first time I met Olya, and she got chosen (Mom asked Vlodj and he couldn’t say no probably) to drop me off at summer camp in Ellenville on her way to Suzy-Q. I was scared in that car ride but for different reasons, and I don’t think Olya was trying. I thought to myself that Vlodj found himself a funny, attractive, girlfriend. I was pretty proud of him for that. That was over 30 years ago and here we are 30 years too soon and for all the wrong reasons.
Even though everything in my body is telling it to be sad, angry and selfish, I want to be more like my Vuyko Vlodj at this moment and be kind, gentle, caring, and familial.
I’d like to think, and do believe Vlodj was actually quite proud of me and my brothers and sisters. He would tell others about how smart we were, and later in life about our achievements and that made me happy. In general, I think Vlodj was happy for everyone, compassionate when compassion was needed, and I don’t believe he ever said “no” to someone in need. Nothing was too far or out of the way….he would get to it when he was passing by, when passing by was 100 miles out of his way.
Vlodj could always be busy. Dust never settled on Vlodj. I think he liked it when people stopped by because it gave him a chance to relax, if relaxing meant handing me beers, cooking me a great steak, and making me feel welcomed, or even reminding me of what I had going for me when I was feeling down. He was so busy, and as a father now, I know how it feels.
I think somewhere in our family DNA there is a gene, for simplicities sake I’ll call it the, “I could do more” gene. It manifests itself differently in all of us and it has nothing to do with what our profession is, how full or empty our stomachs or bank accounts are. It’s this feeling that we could do more. If he knew it or not, Vlodj did more than enough, and touched a lot of people.
Vlodj was extremely proud of Olya, Adrian and Talia. He tirelessly worked to be a good provider, to teach how to change the oil, learn how to ski, care for the lawn, Chauffer to the different types of lessons, and buy all the essentials.
Vlodj had a huge extended family. He always talked about the good times in Cedar Knolls, or working at Uncle Mike’s in the city, and always checked in with my mom to see how she was doing, as well as my father when he wasn’t doing well.
Vlodj had many friends from childhood in Yonkers, CYM, Astoria, Suzy-Q, Oxford, and pretty much wherever he went. Many of you are here today. I am grateful for that as I’m sure Olya, Adrian and Talia are.
Vlodj expressed to me at times that his job wasn’t rocket science or brain surgery. He said it was a job, and he was glad to have it. He liked the folks he worked with (I’m sure only if they put everything in the right spot). I always thought the world of Vlodj and if he worked at a Pharmacy on Lake Ave., as a photographer, import/exporter with Milo, or auto parts wholesaler, I would think he was the best. I only visited Vlodj at work recently when he was helping me try to find an old beater of a car, and I learned something I always knew. That his warehouse had to be the most organized, cleanest place you’ve ever been or seen. I have seen hospital rooms dirtier than this place. And one thing that didn’t go unnoticed as I sat waiting for Vlodj to close-up shop, that everyone that walked in knew “Vlad” (Walter), got what they wanted because Vlodj knew what they needed, chit chatted, and left with a smile. That smile was a gift Vlodj gave people when they met him. I was grateful to experience this and later that day I remember talking about it with him over a cold Coors Banquet, which from now on will be my go to. We talked about his warehouse a bit and he again wanted to hear more about me. I remember telling Vlodj how impressed I was, and proud. I told him that as far as I know, doing anything great is hard work and requires great skills, and shows the inner spirit of someone. I hope that made him happy. I know lots of people who half ass their way through life, and Vlodj was not that guy, he tried and was great at whatever he was doing. Who here has painted a room or waxed a car with Vlodj….you know what I mean!
Vlodj’s life wasn’t an easy path. He lost his father, my grandfather Mykola Fryz when he was just 9. He had to be the big brother and more his entire life. This weight I think never went away and was always visible. That’s what made Vlodj, Vlodj. Dependable, trustworthy, solid, and caring. Differences and arguments weighed greatly on Vlodj, more so than the empty words people use freely. You never heard him F’in that or this. He may have felt that way, but he understood words hurt. They are hard to forget. Like a scholar he valued each word and what it was worth. He used them wisely like a man, not like a child with no self-control.
Vlodj is a part of me. When I get mad and angry, I hope I can channel him. When I look at a nail hole on a wall when I’m painting, he’ll make me fill it. When I shovel the snow and think its clean enough….he’ll make me finish the job. When I hug my son…….I will think of him. When me and the kids ride the motorcycle he gave me, he will be the wind and laughter.
Vlodj, is an important name to me. Its synonymous with great men in history and in my life. There is Volodmyr the great obviously, father of Ukrainian Christianity, my Father, Kathy’s Grandfather, Vlodj, and my son. During lunch, unprompted, my son said yesterday that he remembered looking at the stars in Wildwood with Vuyko Vlodjo. We will be looking for him…and I’m sure he is shining brightly.
Olya, Adrian and Talia. We are crying with you. We want to help you laugh when the time is right. You can count on us if you need anything. Vlodj deserves no less.
Vlodj – You will eternally live in our hearts. Vichnaya Pamiat.