Be Memorable
Written By George Hanstein | Photo Provided

I find it interesting that there are certain people that, although I don't know them well, still manage to make a lasting impression on me.
Nick was one of those people.
Nick owned the Rustic Inn. The Rustic Inn was located on RT 9N between Lake Luzerne and Lake George. It would have been one of those easily forgotten places if it hadn't been for Nick.
The Rustic was a large bar that often-had live bands and could get quite rowdy at times. None of that is what made it memorable for me. What made it memorable for me was the owner, Nick. Often when I was coming back from Lake George, I would stop at The Rustic for a beer or two. Nick was always behind the bar. He always made me feel welcome and always seemed to like what he was doing. We would talk about the things that guys often talk about. Things like the weather, sports, hunting, fishing, women, hot cars and trucks, etc. Nick was, in my opinion, the perfect bar owner. He was never at a loss for words and those words were always interesting. Nick and I were not friends. It's not like Nick and I hung around together. As a matter of fact, I think that the only place that I ever saw him was in his bar. No, we weren't friends, we were acquaintances, but I enjoyed talking to Nick and I think he enjoyed talking to me. Nick was originally from Long Island, and I am originally from NJ. We both spent quite a lot of time in Manhattan and would often talk about restaurants, places, and things down there. We had both come to the Adirondacks for a different life and that also gave us something in common.
One afternoon, several years ago, I stopped in for a beer and to hear what was going on in the area, as Nick saw it. It was the first time that I saw Nick when he didn't seem happy. He was quiet and seemed a little tense. About halfway through my beer, Nick told me he was having health problems. They were doing lots of tests and he was hoping that they would find out why his heart rate would suddenly go up. He told me he was on medication to control it, but that he was hoping that they would find the underlying cause.
That was the last time I saw Nick. Shortly after that day, he closed his bar. He converted the bar into a house for himself and his French-Canadian wife. He did a great job with the conversion. If you didn't know it had been a bar, you would think it had always been a house. He planted grass and shrubbery where the parking lot had been, got rid of all the signs, and decorated the outside very nicely. It was very pretty. I always smiled when I drove past thinking that Nick had done okay for himself. Although I missed our conversations, I was glad for him. I assumed he had overcome his health issues and was living a quiet happy life in his now-converted bar. I can't remember when this was, but it seems like it was a long time ago.
Then in March of 2020, I saw an obituary that told of the passing of...
“Nicholas Brian Picioccio, 79.”
He died on March 24, 2020. There was a photo in the obituary of a smiling Nick. I realized that I hadn't known Nick's last name until I read his obituary. I read every word, and I learned about Nick's family and many other things that I had not known about him. As I said, we were not really friends, just acquaintances or bar owner and patron. I felt a bit sad, but I was glad to know that Nick had a good life and seemed to do pretty much what he wanted to do in life.
Well, a while ago, I drove past what used to be "The Rustic Inn" and for some, unknown reason, stopped to take a photograph of the place. I have driven by it many times since Nick's passing, but yesterday, I had to stop. It made me very sad. The place that Nick had put so much of himself into now stands empty. It is starting to look like it could use some care. The kind of care that Nick always had given it.
I didn't know Nick that well, but I miss him and Nicholas Brian Picioccio, made an impression on me. I bet he made an impression on a lot of other "acquaintances and patrons" also. I don't know what it is that makes certain people so memorable. Perhaps it's charisma, or a personal connection or soul. Whatever it is, Nick had it. I guess all we can hope for, in the long run, is to be memorable to someone.
Rest well, Nick. I wish we could sit across the bar from each other again and tell each other lies about the fish we caught.
Now that I think about it, maybe Nick and I were friends even though we didn't know each other's last names
... As Billy Pilgrim always said in Kurt Vonnegut's "Slaughterhouse Five"
..."So it goes."