Christian, better known to his family as "Pop," liked to keep things simple. Happiness was good music, good family and the occasional good horse race. He ate his favorite foods on a schedule. Pasta on Sundays and Thursdays. Seafood on Fridays only.

Christian could sing, dance and play the mandolin. He had a booming voice that could have made for great radio. He was a natural performer who liked to record himself and get the kids and grandkids in on the act.

Christian was generous. He was stubborn. He loved to joke. He always wore a shirt and tie, even to the grocery store.

"He's not really a fancy guy," said his son Christian, who is nicknamed Goosh. "He's just an old-fashioned family man."

***

Christian was born in Philadelphia in 1914. He moved to Atlantic City when he was a child, growing up in the resort during the "depression days," as he called them.

He graduated from Atlantic City High School and was a familiar figure in the 2900 block of Fairmount Avenue. He was a life insurance salesman with Washington National, and went door to door collecting payments. On the side, he did taxes.

Christian met his wife, Antoinette, when he was 35 and she was 18. He spotted her sitting in a luncheonette on Atlantic Avenue, and swatted a fly off her back - or so the story goes. The rest was history. He called her, "My beauty."

When his children were grown, Christian got a job at the race course, as a ticket teller. For eight years, he worked in the place he loved.

When Antoinette - known as Toni - died nine years ago, Christian moved in with his daughter, Linda Jordan, in Egg Harbor Township. Those were quiet years, filled with music, walks around the backyard and his favorite crossword puzzles. He continued to go to the races - mostly simulcast now - and do taxes for his friends and family.

In November, Christian had some trouble breathing, and the trouble got worse. A diagnosis confirmed it was lung cancer.

Christian refused to believe it. He quit smoking at age 65, after all.

"I quit when I was a young man!" he said at the time.

Christian decided that what he really had was COPD - chronic obstructive pulmonary disease - and that's what he told people, even his Heartland Hospice nurse, Cathy.

"He has lung cancer, right?" Cathy whispered to Linda.

"Yes," Linda replied, shaking her head.

Christian refused to quit driving. He loved his Buick Century. He wasn't listening to his family. Cathy sat Christian - then 93 - down and explained to him that he probably should not be driving anymore.

Christian listened intently, and agreed. Then he grabbed his keys and drove to the CVS Pharmacy.

Goosh decided the Buick was "suddenly" going to have some trouble starting. He took out the battery. Christian asked why his car wouldn't start. Goosh said he'd look into it.

Christian called AAA. Goosh had to run outside to intercept the mechanic and explain the situation.

A lack of oxygen also caused Christian to hallucinate. He saw rain in the dining room. Then a floating head in a china cabinet. Then a cave woman in a tree outside. He described the visions in detail to his family, fascinated.

"Boy, the mind really is amazing, isn't it?" he would say.

"It didn't scare him," Goosh said. "Nothing ever scared him."

***

As the weeks passed, Christian grew weaker and ate less. One night, Linda and Goosh wanted to bring their father his favorite meal - a linguini dish from A Touch of Italy restaurant. But they knew he wouldn't be able to eat it.

Instead, Christian's grandson's wife, Kelly, brought him another favorite - strawberry ice cream. He smiled as Kelly fed it to him.

The next morning, July 1, Kelly overheard Christian talking in his bedroom. It was just after 6 a.m. Her infant son, Cole, had just woken up.

Kelly, curious, peeked in the room. Christian was laying on his side, facing the wall, talking and gesturing to nothing.

"Are you a doctor?" Christian said. "All right, I'll be right there."

"We've all speculated on who he was talking to," Goosh said. "Those were his last words."

By all accounts, Christian lived a long, happy life. But he missed his wife. He joked that all his tax customers were dying off. Many of his friends from the old days were gone.

The Mass at St. Michael's Church was more of a celebration of his life.

"Pop wasn't just my grandfather, he was my role model and he was my friend," said his grandson, Phil Jordan. "I think that if I knew him when he was my age, or that even if we weren't related, that we'd have been friends."

Phil ended his tribute by singing a song he recorded with Christian in 1998 - "Four-Leafed Clover."

"I'm looking over a four-leafed clover that I overlooked before

One leaf's for sunshine

The second's for rain

Third's for the roses that grow in the lane

No need explaining, the one's remaining for somebody I adore

I'm looking over a four-leafed clover that I overlooked before."

E-mail Regina Schaffer:

RSchaffer@pressofac.com