Arthur Albores left us Saturday October 12, 2024. But more than anything, his death is a reminder of what it means to truly live.

A year ago he lost his keys and walked five miles home. Six months ago he was eating ice cream with his grandchildren in California. Four months ago he was beating everyone in cards at the annual Michigan family reunion. Two months ago he was driving his 96 year old sister to breakfast. Four weeks ago he was at the gym sweating through his t-shirt. Five days ago he was telling everyone to stop worrying and go home. Two days ago he was singing a thundering rendition of happy birthday to his granddaughter. Once in English. Once in Polish. Once in Spanish.

And an hour before joining the choirs of angels he said goodbye to his wife of 53 years with a grip as strong and full of love as the life he lived.

Art was the third youngest of seven children born to Jacob and Victoria Albores who immigrated from Mexico and settled on the West Side of Chicago. His father was a tailor, his mother took care of the family. When Jacob died suddenly, it was she that held Art and his six siblings together through depression and war. Whose tortillas, hot off the stove, warmed their hands. Whose love was as certain as the rising sun.

A city kid, Art found a second home at the YMCA, which for Art cemented a faith in community that would endure for the rest of his life. He attended North Central College and graduated in 1956 with a Bachelor of Science. He taught grammar in Chicago and the surrounding suburbs for nine years while serving as a Navy reservist where in his words, "he fiddled around pretending to fix airplanes".  In 1965 Art joined the Peace Corps spending the better part of two years establishing YMCA's in Caracas Venezuela before returning home to attend Middlebury College where he graduated with a Masters of Education in 1968 having spent half his time studying in Europe.

He returned to The States when Oak Park River Forest High School called him in Spain to offer him a teaching job. He always thought that was pretty awesome. He settled in as a Spanish teacher where for the next nearly 40 years he dedicated his life to shaping the minds and lives of generations of young people, at both OPRF and Northern Illinois University.

But it was in 1971 that Art discovered the reason he was put on this earth. That's the year he met Carole.

They met at a party. They made small talk. They sat on pillows (it was the 70's). He asked for her number and she gave it to him. "He's nice but I don't think I want to go out with him", she told her best friend Weez. Five months later they were married. When asked what she remembered about the day he proposed, Carole said, "I remember he dropped the ring. But it didn't matter."

"We knew."

Their first child Geoffrey came a year later, Peter the year after that and Timothy the year after that. They piled on him like puppies, relentlessly interrupted his work, his book, his news, his Jazz. They fought. They rebelled. They made a million mistakes. But through it all he never let them forget how loved they were and how fiercely proud he was of "my sons".

Art was uniquely equipped for grandfatherhood. He radiated warmth and love. He was a full-time "Dappa" for Maya, Emilie and Maddy. But to Oliver and Charlie he was "Opa". He and "Oma" would get on airplanes just to push them on a swing, or pick flowers or read bedtime stories. As the children grew older he grew wiser, offering advice when asked and a hug when needed. He was patient. He was never too busy. He told silly jokes, sent books with lines underlined and passages circled, he passed down traditions with pride. His love was boundless.

We were blessed to learn many valuable lessons from Art during his 94 years, among them: You can never have enough pairs of reading glasses, 3 is good - 10 is better. Read poetry. In Spanish if you can. Take naps. Floss. Go to breakfast with a dozen cognitively challenged elderly men once a month. Get the bacon. Volunteer at a homeless shelter. If a small child hands you a toy phone - answer it. If you leave the barber without getting your eyebrows trimmed - you're blowing it. Don't yell at your kids when they slide down the laundry shoot or steal the car. On Christmas morning take your family to a soup kitchen to feed those whose Christmas isn't as good as yours. Wear colorful socks. Discuss art. Road trip to New York City with your brothers. Drink martinis - sparingly. Take a boat to Europe. Buy flowers for your wife. Say yes to her wild adventures. Let her kiss your head tenderly, let her tears be yours and your laughter be hers. Hold each other while you walk so that you can steady her and she can steady you. Guard her like she is the last flicker of a candle in the wind. Read for pleasure. Spend time in Michigan, marvel at the green. Carry a thin wallet because nothing is that important anyway. Be a part of your children's lives without telling them how to live. Never miss a parade. Workout three days a week - at minimum. Keep moving or you rust. Try to make everyone say "too soon" when you pass on at 94.

Meet people where they are but always bring a handful of love and a pocket full of kleenex. Never forget that "La Familia" is everything.

Besides his family and friends perhaps the only thing Art was more proud of was that in 94 years he never needed a cane. We love you Pa, up to the sky. Forever.

Art is survived by his 97 year old sister Helen, his 5 grandchildren, Maya, Emilie and Maddy, Oliver and Charlie, his three sons Geoff, Pete and Tim and their wives Chris and Sandy (both of whom he was crazy about) his wife Carole who he loved more than life itself, and a lifetime of family and friends, too numerous to list but not forgotten.

Dress comfortably, if you have a pair of colorful socks - wear em'. Family and friends will be received at the Conboy-Westchester Funeral Home, 10501 W. Cermak Rd., Westchester on Thursday, October 17, 2024 from 3:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. There will be a short service and sharing of memories at 7:15 p.m. All to meet Friday, October 18, 2024 at St. Giles Church, 1045 Columbian Ave., Oak Park for a Visitation from 9:00 a.m. until time of Funeral Mass 10:00 a.m. (the Mass will be live-streamed- please click on the Watch Video link located at the end of this notice). Interment private. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to Housing Forward (formerly PADS - www.housingforward.org) in Art's Honor. For funeral info 708-F-U-N-E-R-A-L.