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For 20 years, his friend Robert "Bob" Klein sent monthly letters to a mailing list of about 80 friends and relatives. They were from a fictional "Uncle Skeeter," recounting Skeeter's homespun adventures.
Joe and Bob met at Carnegie Mellon University, where Bob studied fine arts and Joe studied industrial design. Bob got a master's degree from Penn State University and taught at Grove City College in Pennsylvania before devoting his full attention to art. He worked in painting, printmaking, sculpture and potterymaking. Bob and a group of Amish carpenters even rebuilt a 60-year-old Pennsylvania bank barn to house an art gallery, living quarters for his family and studio space. They later would move to the hills of West Virginia.
Joe and Janet Schumacher moved to Sun City four years ago from Rochester, N.Y. Joe does pen and ink drawings and architectural renderings. The couple is near one of their eight children and three of their 23 grandchildren -- daughter Maureen Robinson and her husband, Gus, own Island Fudge Shoppe in Coligny Plaza.
From the late 1980s until Bob died last year, the Schumachers got a letter from him like clockwork on the third of every month. Bob has saved them all in binders.
Following is an essay from May 1993.
A Million Dollars
By Bob Klein
Sunlight sparkling through fresh green leaves made patches of light at our feet. A wood thrush called. The light breeze moving among the maples carried the sweet scents of spring. All was right with the world as Sonny and I sat on a log beside the old creek trail. It was a good place to rest, to put thoughts in order, to sort out the mysteries of life.
Sonny spoke.
"How would your life be different if you had a million dollars?"
That was a tough one. I gave it considerable thought, and several minutes passed before I answered.
"I believe it depends on how I got the million dollars."
"How's that, Skeeter?"
"Well, if I got it the old-fashioned way, earning it at the minimum wage, it would take me quite some time, so I'd be working all the time. If I got it making counterfeit money, I'd be moving all the time, trying to keep ahead of the law. If I got it robbing a bank, I'd be hiding all the time. If I got it gambling at a casino, I'd keep gambling until I lost it all. Money can be a problem. No, having a million bucks ain't what it's cracked up to be."
Sonny didn't say a word, but I could tell by the expression on his face that he was thinking.
I breathed in the fresh air, better than any city millionaire can buy, and leaned back on the log as Sonny picked up a twig and scratched in the dirt. Finally he spoke.
"What if you didn't have to worry about getting the money, you know, if somebody gave it to you, like a rich uncle?"
"Why, I'd give it back, Sonny, and right quick. You can be sure if someone gives me a million dollars he's made a mistake. Think of the trouble I'd have if I kept it. When he discovered his blunder, he'd want it all back, with 20 percent interest, compounded daily or some such. People with a million dollars are mighty fond of making more money. I think one of them invented interest. What a way to spend the rest of my days, working to pay off the interest on a million dollars I was given by mistake."
Sonny was quiet. He dug two apples from his pockets and handed one to me. After polishing his on his shirt, he bit into it with a loud crunch. I took a bite of mine.
"Tastes good," I said. "Thanks."
After some time Sonny said, "About that million dollars ... what if it wasn't a mistake? What if you really had a million dollars? What would you do with it?"
"You're sure it's no mistake?" I asked.
"Positive, Skeeter."
"Well, if I were sure, maybe I'd spend some of it. Get a new shirt."
"Why not a dozen shirts or the store that sells them or the factory that makes them? You could afford it."
"The more things you have, the more problems you have," I explained. "If I got one shirt, I could hang it in my closet. If I got a dozen, I'd have to build a bigger closet. If I bought a store that sells shirts, I'd have to worry about running the store. And you can imagine the problems I'd have if I bought a shirt factory? I'd have to worry about selling shirts in lots of stores. Yes, sir, if I had a million dollars, I'd buy one shirt. A guy can only wear one shirt, anyhow."
"Rich people have problems," Sonny said. "You've made that clear. If you get a million dollars, I guess your best plan is to give it to your friends. Wouldn't you say so? Kind of spread the problems around so no one person has too many. Giving money away would make you feel good, wouldn't it?"
"I reckon it would at that," I answered.
"If you'd like to try it out, I could use $10 to take Jennifer to the movies tonight," he said with a smile.
"There is only one thing that would make me happier than giving you $10," I said, returning the smile, "and that is seeing you get it the old-fashioned way. Are you interested in some odd jobs this afternoon?"
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