I'll step up to the plate first.
My uncle died on Memorial Day after a bout with colon cancer. He was around 66 IIRC.
A lot of people say stuff like, "When he was born, they broke the mold". In this case, it's utterly true. When he was born, they didn't just break the mold, they stomped on it and scattered the pieces so another would never be made again, LOL.
My uncle was like a teenager trapped in an adult body. He spent most of his life as a painter and paperhanger, also doing pizza delivery and Chinese food delivery. Late in life he worked at Suffolk Downs on security. His main hobbies were fishing, playing cards, and when he was younger he liked firearms quite a bit. If anyone lived in the East Boston area from the late 70s to the early 00s, chances are he delivered you a pizza or some Chinese food. If anyone has a house in East Boston or the northern suburbs (e.g. Revere, Medford, Everett, etc.,.), chances are he painted or wallpapered a house on your street.
His name was John, but everyone knew him as "Junior". His other nicknames were "Muttonhead", "Goonior", and my personal favorite was "Fugly". ROFL His typical outfit was a pair of cutoff jeans and a tank top, and an ugly ballcap.
He wasn't a mean person, just a bit clueless. Childlike, childish... debatable. But, like my cat--who is always getting herself into trouble because she doesn't know any better--I don't think he was purposefully malicious. He might have been occasionally selfish or self-serving, but IMO it was simply because he didn't know any better. But he was a good guy. Long before we Sox fans heard of "Manny being Manny", most of his friends knew it was "Junior being Junior". ROFL
I have a lot of great childhood memories with my uncle. Delivering pizzas (I'd ride shotgun in the car, grabbing the doorframe and fearing for my life). Fishing (getting picked up at 5 in the morning to hit an all-night Dunkie's before setting up shop at Crystal Cove in Winthrop, or on the Cape Cod Canal or the beaches of Mashpee, or the rocks at the edge of one of the cities around Logan Airport where the planes would fly so close overhead you could wave to the people in the windows). Playing cards (we had a weekly Whist ritual in the late 80s to mid 90s... me, my dad, my uncle, and either my dad's friend or my uncle's friend... some nights we spent more nights laughing so hard we cried, or throwing the cards at each other in anger, LOL). We took some road trips to Disney a couple of times. He was sort of like a big brother, if you had a big brother who was kind of irresponsible, LOL. He was a hard guy not to like because of his easygoing, goofy personality.
When I visited him in the hospital, I didn't even recognize him. He was always a heavy guy, but the cancer had turned him into a swizzle stick. He looked like a concentration camp victim, couldn't have weighed 75 pounds; he looked like Frank Perdue on a starvation diet. I brought him a few home-printed pictures of East Boston, and some other of his favorite places (Disney World, Foxwoods, John's Pass near St. Pete). I also brought him some pr0n mags and scratchies. He was very happy to see those. Most people want flowers, or something like that; but I knew he'd want a pr0n mag and some scratchies. That pretty much sums him up.
I walked in, and he whispered, "Boy, are YOU ugly." I said, "Yeah, we'll you're Fugly... and now you're REALLY fugly." He shrugged and said, "Well... Some people go easy, some people go hard."
My aunt--his wife--died of lung cancer a few years back. RIP, John Rindone Jr. If there's a Heaven, you went there. On the other hand, if there's a Heaven, and my aunt is there, then you went someplace else, LOL.