A Reflection on Family and a Tribute to Grandpa Red

You've likely heard the saying, "Friends are the family you choose for yourself." I've often reflected on the soulful relationships I build, and those friendships are so dear to me; those friends feel like family. And then there is my actual family, those I am bonded to by blood. They are the friends that I didn't choose, but if I were to have chosen, I couldn't have chosen better. My family is flawed and funky and altogether pretty freakin' funny on any given occasion. We have dance parties and dance-offs. We get fiery with each other, and then forgiveness quickly follows. We make aromatic, Italian messes in the kitchen and stuff ourselves with homemade ravioli...and then have plank challenges. Sometimes wine flows like water, and then the next morning the water flows like the wine. Yep, it's pretty awesome to have been born into the band of Baci's. 

This week we mourn the loss of Grandpa Red, the man who added flavor in so many forms to our grand fam. As we gather, though, we also celebrate his life and the gift that he was to all of us, his grandchildren, children, siblings and friends. 

The following is my tribute to my Grandpa Red, a man who could boil my blood and steal my heart...

He is outfitted in a flannel. A Swisher Sweet poised in one hand, and a martini in the other while Johnny Cash croons in the background. The rich smell of simmering mushrooms, onions, tomatoes and herbs wafts from the stove as he gruffly says, “Where in the heck is the Grandpa Lynns?” This is Red, our brother, father, grandfather, friend…and “Grandpa Genius” in the eyes of his great-granddaughters.   

Red Bacigalupo was born on April 1st, 1939, to Freida and Joe Bacigalupo in St. Paul, and this German-Italian couple created quite the chef extraordinaire in Grandpa Red. Before he became the Italian chef that we all knew him to be, he became a father of five, beginning with Mark, shortly followed by Michelle and Gina, and some years later came along the baby (for awhile) Joe, and six years later Christy was born.

Those years that his children were growing up were filled with both personal and professional accomplishments. Red took pride in his work as an electrician, most so in being part of the electrical crew on the IDS Tower in Minneapolis and his part in working on the NSP King Plant between Stillwater and Bayport. Later, he owned his own electrical contracting firm in Bozeman, and then one subsequently in Seattle, Washington, where he also became the lead trainer for those aspiring to be electrical administrators.

It was his family, though, that was Red’s pride and joy. There were many summers spent at the cabin on Cross Lake, teaching Mark, Gina and Shelly how to catch crappies and waterski, and then, in later years, fishing for trout with Joe and Christy on Lake Stevens, where Red would take the two out to fish in the early dawn, come home to fry up the fish and eggs, followed by hanging out in the sun, waterskiing on the crystal water. In fact, Red has been described as a hot dog water skier as he was able to ski barefoot and display quite the roostertail when he did don the skis.

It wasn’t just on the lake that Red showcased his talents and taught his children life and recreational skills. He was also an instructor in the kitchen, on the putting green, the ski slope and, of course, the mountainside. There were days, working in the Red Barn Gourmet Food Store, which he and his second wife Patty owned, where Gina helped with ordering products and cooked in the feed bin restaurant, which has, so many decades later, led her to embark on opening the Huckleberry Hill Bed and Breakfast. There were nights spent with Joe, drinking Coors Light, laying out as dusk approached, listening to the Mariners in the distance, trying to predict what the next hit might be, a single, double, strike-out or homerun. There were evenings barbecuing the best burgers that a young Christy happily devoured. It is indeed, his passion for great food that Red has passed on to all of his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He has taught his fabulous five to cook family recipes of homemade ravioli (though let’s not forget his taste for White Castle), pasta sauce, and torta. His passion lives on as his children teach their children the trade-secrets.

He took great pride and enjoyment in helping all of us, his friends and family, with remodeling projects. If you didn’t have one ready, he’d dream one up for you and show up ready to rock. Knocking out walls, redoing floors, rewiring the electric, retiling the bathroom and on and on; he could do it all. We all learned and benefited from his passion to teach and build.

Red really was one-hell-of-a man. He will continue to be remembered and admired for his gumption and free-spirit, and especially for the friendships he built and sustained over the years. Gina recently quoted the adage “There aren’t strangers, just friends he hasn’t met yet” and this was quintessential Red, to make fast and lasting connections with friends of friends, the couple up the hill and the waitress at his new local diner.  

In one of Red’s last lucid moments, surrounded by his family, he clearly asked, “Are we close to a beer?” It is here we toast to you, Grandpa Red, a man of many talents, stories, and friends. We will remember you always as we are puffing our cigars, tracking that elk, sipping an orange pop, donning our cheaters, and, especially, when looking at the Montana moon. And we will miss you deeply.