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A Tribute to Joseph R. "Joey" Diven

Quick Facts and Information on the Big Guy:

A transcript of the eulogy I read for My Uncle:
On a warm spring afternoon I walked into his livingroom with a large smile on my face. He glanced over with his Big Irish eyes and muttered, "Matt The Rat, put the radio on". I replyed "sure, what number?" he just smiled at me through his smelly green cigar and I went over to the stereo and put on AM 1320, the only station he listened to. As i walked back into the living room, I stopped to grab a cookie out of the infamous cookie jar. Uncle Joe asked if I liked Frank Sinatra as the familar Blue Eyes anthem "My Way" played in the background. I said, "ya why?" He replied "nevermind, take out the garbage, wake Michael up, and Clean up Downstairs. As I walked out the door in the back yard I distinctly remember him yell " And don't forget to put the damn lid on the garbage can." Just another typical visit to the Big Guys House. When I was a young boy i made the mistake of showing Uncle Joe how well I could complete the chores he assigned. As I aged, I began to appreciate the "details" I ran. Being the final "low man on the totem pole" in a Union House, I recieved the calls filling the role my Uncle Ian Barrett graduated from. Whether it be 6 cigars, a loaf of MANCINI'S bread, milk or cheese, or making countless trips to the attic only to put back what i took hours later, I did it. We All Did it.
When I came around Uncle Joe's Fighting days were over, for now there were new battles in his life. When his leg was amputated, I went to stay with him and assissted my Aunt in taking care of him. I was extradited along with my Uncle Ian, as we were both to spend the month there. I vividly recall Aunt Barb leaving directions everyday for Breakfast, Lunch and Do-Nots. By the end of the day Uncle Joe had ordered me to break most or all of the items on that list (all of them usually had me in the attic). The respect I hold for my uncle is immeasurable. In the fifth grade, I sported a Tom Forester for Commisioner pin to school, because he asked me to. When kids in school asked me what the pin was for , I replyed "I dont Know". For every detail I or anyone else ran, noone is worthy of what he always gave in return. For starters the Diven name. Joey Diven is responsible for the good name Pittsburghers identify. Material gifts such as Autographed baseballs, all-star tickets, baseball bats from Major Leagures were handed to me as if they were nickels. Most individuals would not let people touch these items let alone give them away. But that was Joey Diven, that was my Uncle Joe. He would rather see my face light up with surprise and happiness than anything else in the world. His selflessness and Compassion rang in the hearts of all those he knew. His goodwill and warm heart were the only thing in this world stronger than his own most powerful right cross or left hook. What attracted people to him the most was his belief in the fact that no matter where you stood on the social or economic latter, you were no better than the next man. He treated all he knew with the same warmth and comraderie. He was as comfortable with Prominent public figures, as he was in the corner bar on Bouquet or Forbes. When my Aunt K died, Uncle Joe played a significant role in raising my Uncle Phil and Aunt Sandra as well as my mother and Uncle John. He was the father figure that aided my grandmother in raising her family.
I can recall sitting in his living room for a few hours and out of the blue and he would tell me stories about Forbes Field, or my mother and Uncle Phil as they grew up together. Those stories he shared with me are worth more than any autographed ball I ever received. I also enjoyed bringing my friends over to meet the hero i had always bragged about. After ten minutes of conversation they were sold. I would see them in school and occasionally the would ask how Uncle Joe was doing. He even asked my friends to run a few details and of course they obliged. He had an inner glow and wise way about him that everyone found out. A few of my buddies would see him waiting for the paper to come out at Bickerton's News and they would always pull over and say "hi Uncle Joe", like he was their own Uncle. It always amazed me and made me feel very proud.
It meant a great to me to have Uncle Joe assist my parents in raising me, not because I learned how to defend and protect myself with my hands, but because he helped teach me about the street, life, and how to be a better man. He didn't have to preach it, he lived it. He lead with repect, wisdom and compassion; he lead by example. I always thought of him as my grandfather, because he played the role of father to my mother, and because i loved him so much. As the years passed, I would get phone calls from the big guy and he would start every conversation with, "Matt the Rat, you got wheels?" If I did, I was off to Kenny's for six cigars. If I didn'y have wheels I was still off to Kenny's for 6.
When my hero passed away and left this world, my family gathered at the hospital. I vividly remember my Uncle John telling me "he was the man". Nothing anyone ever said to me was more true. As i conclude, I cannot help but recall Sinatra's song I heard while taking out the garbage on that spring day. The lyrics read like a ballad of my Uncle's life. "I faced it all, and I stood tall, and did it my way"

Thing's I'll NEVER Forget that my Uncle taught me:

Myself, Joey Diven, and good friend Aziz El-Tahch


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