Joseph H. Inge Jr.

Joseph H. Inge Jr., 95, of Randolph, NJ passed away peacefully in his sleep
on 02/02/25 at Sunrise Assisted Living of Randolph following a long decline,
with his wife of over 72 years, Josie, by his side. Born in 1929 in
Brooklyn, NY to Joseph Sr. and Virginia (nee Grubbs) Inge, he married his
life mate Josephine in 1952 during their lunch break at John Street
Methodist Church in New York City. Joseph, a Marine and Korean War
Veteran who was one of the Chosin few, spent the majority of his adult life
on Staten Island, NY.

After returning from the war, he made his career as a Natural Rubber
Inspector. He was an avid stamp collector and wanted to be remembered as "a
nice guy". He is survived by his wife, Josephine E. Inge, his sons Stephen
Inge (Kathryn) of Amelia Island, FL and Timothy Inge of
Succasunna, NJ, grandchildren Courtney of Succasunna, NJ, Michael Inge
(Kristen) of Greenbelt, MD, Hailey Inge of Phoenix, AZ, and Daniel Inge of
Ledgewood, NJ. He was also a great-grandfather to Olivia and Charlie Inge.
He was pre-deceased by his sister, Ellen Marckesano and his
brother, John (Jack) Inge.


Life Story:
Joseph Hailey Inge Jr. & Josephine Elizabeth Inge (nee McGovern)

On the heels of the Great Depression . These were lean times, that's a nice
way of saying they were poor. Frugality would remain a thread in their
lives. Joe, his older sister Ellen, who he picked on constantly, largely
because she was smarter than he, and he knew it, and his younger brother
Jack, his partner in crime as a boy, were all born in Virgina. When dad was
four, mom left their father and took the three kids to live with family in
Bushwick Brooklyn, mere woods in 1933. In that time nobody spoke of such
things. The man that would raise them would forever be referred to for
generations to follow as Unkie. Unkie would be a driving force in their
lives - he was a wonderful player of the violin and part-time violin
teacher, a world class artisan and true craftsman in wood, and an all-around
great storyteller. When Joe was seventeen one of his friends, Stephen
McCauley, had himself a young pretty girlfriend, (don't tell anybody but she
was only fourteen years old at the time.) Well, Dad wasn't having it, so he
proceeded to woo and steal her away from his buddy, more on Josephine
McGovern, aka Josie, in just a bit . . .

There's no such thing as a former Marine . Private Joseph Hailey Inge Jr. at
21 was ill prepared for what was in store for him. He shipped out from Camp
Lejeune North Carolina in December of 1950 with an M1 Garand rifle capable
of automatic fire, however, in reality after a couple rounds down range the
M1 would lock up and be instantly reduced to what could be best described as
a club. Anyone who complains about the amount of money we spend on our
military and research and development would sing a different tune if THEIR
son or daughter were sent to a foreign land, put in harm's way, and had
second rate unreliable tech. Dad was a lineman, in that time radio
communications (targeting information) was done over hard copper wires, and
as you can imagine, in a war zone, those copper wires got beat up pretty
quickly! Well, Dad was the guy they sent to go fix them. There are no
time-outs in battle. Straight to Korea he went and very soon found himself
deep into Communist Chinese territory in an area called the Chosin Reservoir
(the frozen Chosin), which ended up being a horrific slaughter of our boys,
and a battle that is still taught and studied to this day. Sergeant first
class Inge, awarded the Purple Heart, got out of there alive, many, many,
others were not so lucky. Dad tells one story where he got separated from
his platoon, not comforting when you're thousands of miles from home, in
another world and certainly no GPS or cell phone. Well, as Dad was wandering
around, in the distance he sees his buddy from Reserves, Richard Johnson.
Talk about a sight for sore eyes! Both their families would remain extremely
close for many years, often enjoying Thanksgiving together. Dick Johnson was
a mountain of a man, part African American and Native American with a voice
that using helium couldn't approach.

A woman I adored . In March of 1952, with each taking a couple minutes out
of their lunchbreaks, Joe and Josie met up at John Street Methodist Church,
NYC and married, with one of mom's closest friends from High School,
Roberta, and her boyfriend Eugene as their witnesses. They would remain one
for 72 years this side of heaven.

Home . Soon after returning home from Korea Jo and Jo bought a small cape
cod on Staten Island for the paltry sum of $12,500! Yes, their mortgage was
$75 a month and her father had to co-sign! They raised my brother and me in
that home. Spending most of their adult lives on Staten Island they moved a
couple times downsizing, then when life became too difficult, they moved off
of Staten Island and in with their son Timothy in Succasunna NJ. As dementia
continued to tighten its grip, they then moved into a local assisted living
facility.

A different time... Nowadays it sounds like another planet. Mom and Dad were
alive before color TVs were a thing and even before black and white TVs were
a thing! Entertainment in their younger years was sitting around a radio!
Certainly, way before personal computers. Even before cell phones, going
back their phones had cords on them and most were screwed to the wall. With
some of the early ones, when you picked them up to talk, you might be
interrupting someone else's conversation because a bunch of folks shared the
same neighborhood party line. They grew up during segregation, "whites only"
and "colored" bathrooms, drinking fountains and seating. This seems
inconceivable to us now. In their lifetime we have come far, however, we
certainly have so much more progress to make. How many more "Greats" have to
be hyphenated to "Grandchildren" before we reach the good Doctors dream?

Greatest Generation . No wonder they call theirs the Greatest Generation.
Safety first, hah! This generation had wars to fight, bridges, skyscrapers
and cities to build. Technology to invent! There was no time for feelings,
feelings were a sign of weakness. This was the generation that VOLUNTEERED
to put themselves in harm's way for the safety of their family, friends, and
country.

St. John's Lutheran . despite continuing lean times they swallowed hard and
sent both their children, first Stephen and then Timothy, to a private
Lutheran elementary school. Many great long-time friendships would be forged
during these times. Names like Whittet, Marcussen, Haase, Dedek, and
Iacobacci would forever be in their hearts.

Rubber . Joe was a natural rubber inspector, extremely specialized, and well
respected in his field. Back in the day so much was made with natural
rubber, it had to be imported into this country and then made into the
things that we used all the time, the least of which were tires. Dad truly
perfected his craft. Once he circumnavigated the globe representing the
United States at a Rubber conference in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Dad didn't
graduate high school, but he was extremely street smart, he had to be!
Amongst other things, his job was facilitating raw material coming from
across the globe into the New York City docks. Do I need to remind you who
controlled the NYC waterfront back then? He successfully navigated and ended
up forging some wonderful friendships. Dad considered Pat Bongiardino & Bob
Barcalow true friends. Dad answered the call again from our country when
they needed someone with his specific expertise to go around to all of our
national stockpiles of materials and inspect and make sure we are ready if
and when the shit hit the fan.

Homemaker ... A misguided bunch of folks in the 60's and 70's were pushing
the agenda that homemakers were 'less than'. Mom was anything and everything
all at the same time and certainly not less than. Mom did it all, every day,
all the time, never a break! Hell, even vacations were no vacation. She took
care of the kids, cooking, cleaning, managing the house, managing the car,
everything. The home my brother and I grew up was always spick and span from
floor to ceiling, we always had love, a roof over our heads, and food served
to us. I am convinced the Energizer bunny was modeled after our mom, no
royalties though!

VW Bug. Mom loved her snow-white VW bug semi-automatic (no clutch pedal but
you had to shift), no air conditioning and the trunk in the front. She would
pack that thing and go everywhere with it. Today, if you drive by their
former long-time home on Mountainview Avenue, you will see a huge tree
planted at the curb. Well, I remember Mom bringing that tree home from the
store hanging out the passenger side window. SOP to head up to the
campground in Upper Black Eddy Pennsylvania had mom packing up all the food
and supplies, me, our dog Kelly. Dad, you ask? Mom would pick up Dad from
the express bus stop from the city and he'd be changing out of his business
clothes as Mom had the pedal to the metal screaming across the Staten Island
Expressway! FYI, max speed for the VW fully loaded was about 50 miles per
hour provided you had a strong tail wind.

Stamp . To all his friends Dad was known as "Stamp," as his main hobby was
philately, AKA stamp collecting. He was very active in the Staten Island
Philatelic Society for more years than anyone at the club could remember. He
was a long-time active member of St. John's Lutheran Church and School where
Stephen and Timothy would attend K-8th grades, volunteering and helping out
in Boy Scouts and many other organizations. He was a "football father" at
Wagner HS during Stephen's reign and a more than willing accomplice when
Timothy got interested in competitive rifle shooting. He enjoyed playing
billiards and chess. It must be mentioned that none of this would have been
possible without the tireless efforts of his wife & partner Josephine, don't
ever let anyone tell you a Homemaker is ANYTHING less than!

Cowbell . everybody knew Stephen was playing when, normally reserved, Mom
was in the stands cheering him on, springing to attention raucously clanging
that thing, it was pretty embarrassing, lol. Stephen was very athletic, I
don't think there was a sport invented that he didn't play, and the whole
family was in the stands for all of them, be it football, wrestling,
basketball, or softball. Soccer wasn't a thing in this country when he was
in high school, and nobody even knew what pickleball was. Fast forwarding 50
years would find Stephen perfecting his third shot drop in Florida.

Christmas cards/ornaments . It took her all year to craft them. For over 10
years she'd come up with a different design for these carefully adorned hand
crafted felt "ornaments", all with a personal handwritten tag that would be
mailed to their family and friends, over a hundred of them each year.

Environmentalist . Mom loved animals, her first dog a black mixed breed
named "Peppy," then Tim's dog Kelly. Kelly's passing was tough on Mom. An
active bird watcher, she would always feed the birds, shoveling paths to the
bird feeder, and constantly refreshing the water in the bird baths. She
would buy endless bags of peanuts that she then shelled at every "free"
moment she had so she could put them out for the squirrels on the back step.
Every once in a while, Mom would be late and the squirrels would scratch on
the door, so she'd open the door and provide some more freshly hand
de-shelled peanuts. If you were ever in a movie theater on Staten Island and
some crazy woman was shelling peanuts, you have my condolences.

Trailer . For a season they also had a trailer at a campground in PA with
Mom's sister Virgina, "Hockey Puck" was the campgrounds name. It would be a
great time to get away from urban Staten Island for some weekends in the
woods, paddling in a two-person inflatable boat on the lake and yielding
wonderful connections between her sister's family and her own.

Retirement . Dad retired in 1994, but a homemaker never retires, so now Mom
added "tour guide" to her already long list of things she did. She had them
always going somewhere, planning mostly day trips for them. They would often
go to the Staten Island Zoo, SI Greenbelt Conservancy, the College of Staten
Island for lectures, Monmouth Park Racetrack to watch the horses,
Willowbrook Park to feed the ducks (of course) and ride the carousel. They
were also long-time members of the Todt Hill Friendship club.

Friends . They had a great number of truly wonderful friends! The kind of
deep friendships where each would do anything for the other. Yes, this was a
time before Facebook and texting when friends actually got together. Names
like Cummings and Plata were also deeply cherished.

Always holding close pictures of their children, grandchildren,
great-grandchildren and lifelong friends, dementia eventually took hold in
them both but not before they would live a wonderful, full life together.

A poem that meant so much to him . Dad's favorite poem, which he could
recite verbatim was "The Touch of the Masters Hand" by Myra Brooks Welch in
1921:

The Touch of the Masters Hand

Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
thought it scarcely worth his while
to waste much time on the old violin,
but held it up with a smile.

What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
Who'll start the bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar, now two, only two?
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?

Three dollars, once; three dollars twice,
Going for three." But no!
From the room, far back, a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;

Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening up all of the strings,
Played a melody, pure and sweet -
As sweet as an angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said; What am I bid for the old violin?
And he held it up with the bow.

A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?
Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once, three thousand, twice,
And going and gone, said he.

The people cheered, but some of them said,
We do not understand -
What changed its worth? The man replied:
"The touch of the master's hand."

And many a person with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.

A mess of pottage, a glass of wine;
A game - and they travel on.
They're going once, and going twice,
They're going and almost gone!

But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand,
the worth of a Soul, and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the Master's hand!

Private addendum - Bear in mind this section is not meant to be judgmental
or a condemnation in any way. It is offered to provide some insight into why
. . .

Fine . I'm sure Mom answered this innocuous question a thousand times over
her lifetime when she was asked "how you doing?" Unfortunately, the truth
was that she was anything but. This was a time that you didn't speak about
your feelings, women could get away with it a bit, but men couldn't. If that
didn't present enough of a challenge, to make matters worse they were both
conflict avoiders. Neither had the capacity to navigate disagreement so at
the first sign of discord or bringing up just a sensitive topic, a "sticky
subject" as Dad would call them, they would immediately disengage, never
discuss, and then pretend everything was ok. Unfortunately, Tim learned this
behavior and, not ever hearing disagreement, and certainly not heated
arguments or threats, Tim would be ill-prepared for what was to come in his
first marriage. It would take him years of dedication to understand and
correct this ingrained behavior. Mom had no one to talk to, certainly her
husband would have no clue how to respond when the woman he cherished told
him point blank that she wanted to end her own life. Home at that time was
at the newly opened Seaview's "Park Lane," a 62+ community. Stephen and
Timothy were busy living their lives in Northern New Jersey. Then came the
call, Tim remembers it like it was yesterday, "I was at the office at
Picatinny, my phone rings and a frail voice said, "come, we need help." This
was a generation that didn't ask for help, asking for help was a sign of
weakness. It felt like that drive to Staten Island took forever, I just
couldn't go fast enough. I had a flashback to years ago when I heard, "come!
they're taking the baby," but that was a much closer ride to Denville's
Saint Clare's Hospital when Hailey was born." It would be after that moment
that Tim's life would take a turn. Finding their apartment still smelling
like smoke (to have something to eat Dad had attempted to boil an egg in his
metal Marine Corps issued metal cup from Korea and forgot it was on the
stove). Mom was in bed curled up in the fetal position in a dark place in
her mind. Tim would learn of Mom's depression, anxiety, panic attacks,
hospitalizations, and years of mental health issues. Unfortunately, Dad was
no help, he had zero emotional intelligence and also needed help. In the
middle of his divorce Tim completely took over their care and decided it was
best to move them into his new home as there was no way driving back and
forth from Staten Island to Succasunna was sustainable. Mom would continue
to be hospitalized many times in various mental health facilities, however
at that point the snowball was rolling down the mountain gathering speed and
size. Within three years, despite frequent home health care aide visits, it
was no longer safe in Tim's home and he and the doctors decided it was best
that they be placed in assisted living where they could be cared for 24/7.

Thinking back to mom's MO of always doing something, was this an attempt to
try to drown out the thoughts that were going on in her head? Maybe as a
housewife she would have alone time to fall apart then paint on a happy face
for when everybody returns at the end of their day at work or at school?
What to do in the summertime when the kids are home? Steven would question
as a boy why during summer breaks Mom sent him off to camp, seeming like she
didn't want him around. Why Mom never said I love you? Mom was not the one
you went to when you needed a hug. Were there other contributors? Did she
have a bad experience at Catholic school? Nowadays the news is full of these
kinds of atrocities. Maybe her parents weren't the warm loving huggy type?
Was dad suffocating in his love for her and she never got the space she
needed? One particular hospitalization had mom at the Carrier Clinic for a
couple weeks leaving dad at Tim's. Through her doctors Mom expressed that
she needed space and wouldn't take Dad's phone calls. Tim gave it his best
shot and tried to explain this concept to Dad. With John 21:6 running
through my mind I asked if he loved Mom, he was flabbergasted, "of course I
love Mom, more than anything," was his reply. He asked again, "do you love
Mom?" again a similar but more emphatic response, "of course!" Then Tim
asked, "Mom needs space, this is what she needs, I know this is not what you
want, do you love her enough to provide what she wants, what she needs, even
though it's not what you want or what you need? Do you love her that much?"
There was a very slight light bulb moment, but these concepts were so
foreign to Dad and way too late, all of this emotions stuff wasn't anything
he could or was ever allowed to deal with throughout his life. Mom would
increasingly withdraw from reality, spending more and more time in bed and
on an absurd number of medications. In the final years she would have what
seemed to be short bursts of engagement only to quickly retreat and head
back to bed. Dad sitting in his wheelchair by her side staring out the
window.
 

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