Bernard “Gene” Fulghum Jr.
You know the kind: people who talk about themselves, and never ask how you’re doing.
Bernard “Gene” Fulghum Jr. – a Cherry Hill resident who died at 80 – was not that kind.
“He was comfortable and welcoming when talking to anyone,” recalled his wife, Carann Feazell, “and people loved talking to him because he intentionally listened.”
Even the guy who cut Gene’s hair would agree.
“We had great conversations about sports and life in general,” Ron Caruso noted in an online tribute.
A Memphis native, Gene grew up on a farm playing “cowboys and Indians” and often recalled his mother’s cooking in the “smallest kitchen in America.” A scholar and athlete, he got a full ride to Georgia Tech and joined the ROTC before graduation, eventually serving as an officer in Vietnam.
A long-time attorney described by his wife as a lion in the courtroom, Gene scored in the top 1% nationwide in his LSAT entrance exam. His law career took him to New Orleans, where he became a defense attorney. But his true legacy there was as “Clean Gene,” a moniker he earned because he wouldn’t accept bribes, something not unheard of in the Big Easy.
But a loving Gene is what Carann saw in the man she would marry – in the “autumn of our lives,” as her husband described it. She called him her “safe place.”
“He was totally accepting of me, with a kind of unconditional acceptance I had never experienced,” Carann noted. “I always knew I was safe and loved.”
Gene’s “bonus daughter” – as Cat LaPlante described herself in the obituary she wrote for her father – was actually his stepdaughter. He was all in – but not for the step part.
“(He) never had children of his own,” remembered Cat. “But he treated me like his daughter from day one.”
Memorable was the time Gene took Cat to the racetrack and propped her on his shoulders so she could see the horses.
“He was the glue that crafted our family together, the man who truly displayed unconditional love,” Cat emphasized. “As a then 10-year old, Gene’s reaction to me, from my point of view, was simply love.”
At Haddonfield United Methodist Church, Gene and Carann – who attended services together – taught fifth- and sixth-grade Sunday school. For one class, he mapped out a “timeline” of earth” on a 100-foot roll of butcher paper, so his students could walk it, according to his wife.
A favorite game with his students was influenced by the word of the Lord: “The Hairiest Men in the Bible.”
Gene studied theology before he married Carann, and kept the company of a Thursday morning men’s Bible study group. That’s where Lou Schopfer met his friend.
“I will miss his wit and wisdom and the meals we shared together,” Schopfer noted. “He was a strong Godly man who loved Jesus and will be sorely missed by those who knew and loved him.”
An accomplished man who loved taking care of others and cherished simple things like sunrises and sunsets – and Sunday family dinner – Gene never lost his optimism about life, Caraan said.
“Even when Parkinson’s impaired his speech and literally robbed him of his physical abilities and strength, to the point where he had great trouble balancing enough to walk,” she recounted, “Gene remained true to himself … seeing beauty and joy in the simplest of things and constantly expressing his love.”
Sources: Schetter Funeral Home, Legacy.com
Barbara D. Juzwa
Asked to describe in one word the mother who hand made their clothes and never served them processed food, not just one, but three of Barbara D. Juzwa’s four daughters asked to weigh in.
Remarkable, said Anna Siracusa. Gracious, offered Kathy Buttari. Love, noted Bernadette Gruen.
Barbara – who died earlier this month at 95 – was a Polish immigrant who married in her home country and built a life in Camden, where she spoke her native tongue and learned English as she and her husband ran Walt’s Place, a Mount Ephraim Avenue deli.
Despite handling meat for customers, Barbara was a dedicated vegan for more than 50 years, in the days before that was politically correct. She even created a vegan option named for herself at the deli: Barbara’s veggie sandwich.
“I appreciate that even more now,” noted Bernadette, who recalled how her mother would make one dinner for her daughters and husband, and a separate one for herself.
“(She was ) very particular with the foods she ate … Mom ate clean for sure,” she added.
But being a vegetarian did not preclude cooking for those who weren’t. Barbara’s pierogies were so good, Gruen recalled, they drew Eagles quarterback Ron Jaworski to the deli. Her soups were a hit, too.
“A truly gifted cook, Barbara could transform simple ingredients into magical meals,” her obituary reads, always keeping her Polish culinary traditions alive.”
But it was not always easy for her mother to be an immigrant in America, Bernadette noted.
“There are pictures I recall that have depicted her sadness,” she said. “I can still see it in her beautiful eyes .. I’ve often imagined if I could live the life my mother had. That is why I have so much love and admiration for her. (It is) where, I believe, my mother’s strength comes from.”
Strength also came from her faith, Barbara’s obituary notes. She questioned Catholicism, but eventually decided to follow “all faiths,” according to Anna.
“She tried to be the best human possible, and her empathy for others was immense.”
Despite the loss of her husband Walter in 2006 – and later, encroaching dementia – Barbara found hope in her favorite mantras: This too shall pass. Better days are coming. Always look up.
Possessed with a powerful singing voice, the Voorhees resident also took refuge in music.
“Mom sang beautifully,” remembered Kathy. “She was a soprano and we sang together, which was all the time. She would tell me we sang as one voice.”
“Que Sera, Sera” – “whatever will be, will be” – also reflected how Barbara lived despite setbacks, according to Kathy.
“(It) really expressed her attitude about life.”
For sheer pleasure, Barbara looked forward to annual TV broadcasts of “The Sound of Music.” When the young Maria von Trapp falls in love with a man who has seven children, she wonders how it came to pass, how there must have been a moment of truth that brought them together.
“Somewhere in my youth, or childhood,” Maria sings, “I must have done something good.”
To hear her daughters tell it, Barbara Juzwa did, too.
Sources: Evoy-Banasv Funeral Home, Echovita.com
