Joseph Charles Becker

Yarmouth, ME- Joseph Charles “Joe” Becker - beloved husband, father, uncle, grandfather, great-grandfather, and brother - died peacefully in his sleep on Saturday, April 12, 2025. He was 92 years old. Joe’s father Joseph Charles was born in the Russian Empire and emigrated to the U.S. with his parents as a child. Joe’s mother, born Marie Mannion, was the child of Irish immigrants. They had three children, Arthur, Phyllis (Lyons), and Joe, who was born on October 12, 1932 in Hoboken, NJ. Joe grew up in Hudson County, NJ, where he excelled at sports from an early age, starting with football and later adding basketball in high school. At St. Joseph’s Catholic High School, he led the boys’ basketball team to victory at the 1950 state championships and was designated an All-State player.

After high school, Joe worked briefly for Ford Motor Company on the assembly line. In 1952, he was recruited by the Navy to play basketball for the fleet headquarters team in Norfolk, Virginia. For two years, Joe’s team played in an all-Navy league against other bases and the teams on incoming ships. In 1954, after his honorable discharge, he obtained a basketball scholarship to attend St. Peter’s College in Jersey City, NJ. He graduated in 1958 with a bachelor’s degree in economics. During his college summers he worked as a lifeguard in Point Pleasant, NJ, beginning a lifelong love affair with the Jersey Shore.

In those years, Joe Becker was the life of the party, but even after he settled down a bit, his sense of humor never left him. Laughing and making others laugh were second nature to him. He was a consummate joke and storyteller and left those he encountered with smiles on their faces.

In 1958, after graduation, Joe took a job as a claims representative with American Mutual Insurance Company, where he would remain until the late 1980s, rising through the ranks over the years from claims rep to claims manager to assistant vice president. His work ethic was legendary; he was the one the company called upon to go into failing branch offices and whip things into shape.

During his college years, Joe courted the love of his life, Patricia Ann Matthews, another St. Joseph’s High graduate. Joe and Pat married on June 25, 1960, beginning an epic partnership that lasted 62 years. They moved into an apartment in Palisades Park, NJ, where Pat had their first child, John Michael. In 1962, Joe and Pat bought a home in Ridgewood, NJ, where they raised John and his three sisters: Mary Kathleen, Jahnet Ann, and Patricia Mary. Family was Joe’s highest priority: despite his often grueling work schedule, he committed to being home for dinner every night.

In addition to his commitment to family, faith was a cornerstone of Joe’s life. He volunteered at every Roman Catholic church where he was a parishioner. At Our Lady of Mt. Carmel, in Ridgewood, Joe coached boys’ and girls’ CYO basketball teams and served as stage manager for the parish musical productions. His annual performances as “The Marble Man” at the parish fair delighted kids and adults alike. After retirement, whether living in New Hampshire, New Jersey, or Maine, Joe stayed involved in the church, serving as a lector and a Eucharistic minister; assisting Pat at a parish food pantry; and co-hosting a post-Mass coffee hour. Joe was a regular attendant at Mass until his last days, often attending multiple days a week.

In retirement, Joe took on a new role: Pop-Pop, beloved grandfather of his five grandchildren, and honorary grandparent to many other children. He dove into grandparenthood with the same gusto and dedication that he put into his career and his basketball coaching. Pop-Pop was there for sporting events, plays, performances, as well as hosting “grandparents’ camp.”

Joe always loved the beach, and the family spent nearly every summer vacation at the Jersey Shore, particularly in Ocean City. Lying in the sun on the beach was his happy place. For several years in the 1990s, Joe achieved his dream of living at the shore full-time.

Joe loved playing, coaching, and watching basketball; his commitment to physical fitness into his 90s astonished his friends and family. He enjoyed reading thrillers and mysteries and watching old classic films, modern action flicks, and nature documentaries. He liked to listen to ‘40s big band and ‘70s soft rock, and he and Pat loved to dance. He loved doing crossword puzzles and jigsaw puzzles, playing cards, and going to Broadway shows. His Dunkin Donuts coffee was “the nectar of the gods.” And he treasured every opportunity to chat and joke with his children and grandchildren.

In 1986, Joe and Pat moved from Ridgewood to Londonderry, NH. In 2014, he and Pat moved to Yarmouth, ME to be closer to Mary and Jim. This move gave Joe a front row seat for the births of his two great-grandchildren. After the death of his partner and soul mate Patricia in February 2023, Joe moved in with Mary and Jim to spend his last years. He often spoke of how much he was looking forward to reuniting with Pat, and wondered what items she would have on her “honey-do” list for him.

Joseph Becker is survived by his children John Becker (Mary Christin), Mary Becker Highland (James), Jahnet Sims, and Trish Becker (Hiro Saito), his grandchildren Carolyn Highland (Andy Maguire), Robert Highland (Katelyne), Matthew Highland (Sierra Stone), Hannah Sims, and Ahleah Sims, his great-grandchildren William James Highland and Rowen Marie Highland, and many nieces, nephews, and cousins.

Visiting hours will be from 5-7 pm on Tuesday, April 22, 2025, at Lindquist Funeral Home, 1 Mayberry Lane, Yarmouth, ME. A Mass of Christian Burial will be celebrated at 10 am on Wednesday, April 23, 2025, at Sacred Heart Church, 326 Main St., Yarmouth. Burial will be at Holy Cross Cemetery at a later date. Please visit www.lindquistfuneralhome.com to sign Joe’s online guest book.

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Words of Remembrance: Joseph Charles Becker

By Carolyn Highland and Matthew Highland

Hello, all. Thank you very much for gathering today to celebrate and honor the life of Joseph Charles Becker. Joe, or Pop-Pop, as he was known to his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, inspired many throughout his life, and I am sure that there are many more loved ones joining us today in spirit if not in person. All of us here were blessed to know Joe, and we are blessed now to be surrounded by his surviving loved ones, who cared, and still care, so much about him. It is a testament to Joe’s character how many folks he inspired to care for him, a respect he earned by constantly demonstrating care and kindness for others. Pop Pop was someone who bolstered his own honor by bestowing honor upon others, who instigated friendship everywhere he went by bringing others into the fold, cluing them in on his jokes, sharing quotidian details of his and his family’s life, and being curious about similar details from others, whether with close friends or total strangers. While today is a sad day, it is also a joyful day and a ceremony that imbues Joe’s life with even more meaning. As Pop Pop would likely have said about such a solemn ceremony, “Sarah Mony? I never met Sarah, but I knew her brother- Freddy Mony.”

I am Carolyn Highland, Joe’s granddaughter, or his “Hunny Bunny,” and I am joined by my brother Matt, who he always referred to as “My Matthew.” We are both so honored to be honoring Joe today with a remembrance of his long and full life. Matt and I were both blessed to grow up nearby our grandfather and spend many treasured hours with him throughout our lives.

Joe passed on April 12th surrounded by the family he wasn’t just a part of, but made. Many of his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren were close by as he followed his beloved Pat home. Matt and I are fortunate to be among the many human beings who found ourselves under the bright, warm beam of Joe’s love and attention over his 92 years. An abundant resource, Joe’s light shone upon not just his family and friends, but anyone fortunate enough to come into contact with him. He was famous around town–in the Hannaford check-out line, at the Dunkin’ Donuts counter, at the public library, among regulars at the Freeport YMCA. Everyone who spent time with Joe– even Celtics fans–were made to feel valued and important and seen. It is a pertinent reminder of how we all possess the power to impact each other’s lives every day.

Pop Pop was known for his catchphrases, many lifted from classic ‘pitches’ or laden with heavy puns. Any time we sneezed growing up, we’d hear “Tissue? I hardly know you.” Some of these were designed to generate a laugh, while others revealed the warm softness of his heart. Pop-Pop never just loved us, he loved us “mucho mucho.” When we were younger and he would show us how to do something–catching waves in the Ocean City surf, shooting a basketball the right way–he’d say “stick with me, kid,” winking at us and making us feel like he’d always be by our sides. He leaves behind a legacy of reverence and irreverence, in balanced parts.

Joe Becker was born in the darkest days of the Great Depression and came of age during World War II, but these trying circumstances did not engender a cynical attitude in Joe. In fact, his personality was one marked by positivity and lightheartedness. Joe grew up mainly in West New York, New Jersey, across the Hudson from Manhattan, as the youngest of three children. His mother was a renowned embroiderer and seamstress born to Irish immigrants, and his father was a professional driver and part time dance instructor who moved to the US as a child from Russia. His parents met each other at a local dance hall, setting the tone for Joe as a lover of music and dancing. From a young age, Joe built close friendships with his neighborhood peers, some of which would last a lifetime. His ability to always find a humorous angle on things brought levity to many a challenging situation, and he earned a reputation for even-handedness by leaving nobody safe from one of his trademark “zing-da-zings”, while always making sure to avoid anything too mean-spirited. Although Joe’s father was Jewish, the family became practicing Catholics, and Joe went on to be a devout Catholic for his entire life. During his time in school at Saint Joseph’s of the Palisades, in West New York, Joe distinguished himself as an athlete, most substantially in basketball. While in those days Joe may not have always been as saintly as the school’s namesake off the court, on the hardwood he was godly. Pop Pop’s love of basketball burned bright from his first exposure to the sport until the day he left us, first as an eye-catching scorer and passer, later as the king of the gymnasium HORSE games, and finally as a full-time Celtics hater and avid New York Liberty fan.

Joe’s basketball talent, and perhaps his witty banter, helped him land a favorable posting when he entered the Navy, where he secured a spot on the fleet headquarters basketball team in Norfolk Virginia. Fortunately, Joe’s youthful hijinks and hooliganism, from sneaking into movie theaters to stealing and setting off military grade smoke bombs, were not enough to keep him out of the service. Many years later, as he scrubbed another countless dish sparkling clean, Joe would remind his family that he had once been a professional dish man as a scullery chief for the naval base. After his stint in the Navy, Joe continued his basketball career with great success at St. Peter’s College in Jersey City, where he would earn a degree in economics, if just barely. During this time, Joe would spend his summers as a lifeguard at the Jersey Shore, keeping people out of trouble by day, and getting people into trouble by night. At the Shore, Joe keenly worked on building up his tan and his time record for longest underwater handstand, in the crashing waves no less. During his college years back in New Jersey, Joe began courting a fellow St. Joe’s graduate, Patricia Matthews.

Pat was a serious person at the advent of a long and impactful nursing career, and she let Joe know that if he was going to be with her, he needed to be serious about it. This ultimatum was a major turning point in Joe’s life, inspiring him to devote himself to Pat from that day forward, for eternity. The pair were married in Morris Plains, New Jersey in 1960 and had 4 children together in that decade. Not even death could do them part, as Joe kept Pat-Pat close in his life even after she passed on. It was shortly after the wedding that Pat Pat allegedly made her infamous attack on Pop-Pop. The way he told it, one night he woke up to Pat smashing his ring finger with a hammer so that his wedding band would be stuck on him forever. Even if it’s just another knucklehead story, we know that Joe would never have removed it even if he could have. Joe and Pat shared a special bond, and were well known for their collaborative and hilarious storytelling, always captivating an audience and keeping each other humble.

My mom, Mary, is Joe’s oldest daughter, and she remembers him as the kind of dad who didn’t hesitate to jump into childcare in a way that was ahead of his time back in the 60s. He washed his kids’ hair in the sink and clipped their fingernails, drove them and their friends all over town, and made special soft boiled egg breakfasts for them on the weekends.

My mom’s siblings remember their dad as someone who consistently went the extra mile with a smile on his face. My aunt Tricia once saw a cute little raccoon near the garbage one night and wanted to see it again, so the next night, Joe took her on a raccoon-aissance mission around the block with her singing “Rocky Raccoon” by the Beatles and trying to find it!

My Uncle John recalls how Joe would drive him into New York City in high school to go to concerts or parties with his friends, and while John was out, Joe would stick around and see a movie for a few hours, waiting until John was ready to be driven back home to Ridgewood. Joe never complained about these long nights on the road, which he did fairly often - not to mention all the driving he did during his many successful years working as an insurance claims man. His personability and gift for making a quick yet deep connection with others also served him well in his career.

Joe carried his caring, hands-on approach with him into grandparenthood. When I was little, my brother Robbie and I would call my grandparents on the landline in their house in New Jersey from ours in Chicago. We loved to play a game where we would name a spot in their house and tell Pop-Pop and Pat-Pat to go there.

“Under the table!” We’d shriek. “Behind the couch!”

Pat (reasonably), would remain seated at the kitchen counter, winding the plastic phone cord around her finger and say, “Yep, I’m under the table!”

Pop-Pop, though, would get on his hands and knees in his jeans and sweatshirt, clutching the cordless extension, and actually crawl under the kitchen table, or wedge himself behind their flower-print couch.

“I’m under the table!” he’d tell us once he was there, in his thick New Jersey accent, and we’d squeal with delight, convinced we’d invented the best game in the world.

Each time my family would visit Pat Pat and Pop Pop in New Jersey or New Hampshire, Pop-Pop would join us out in the driveway, rolling up his sleeves with a determined look on his face. Each time, we would pile into the car, giddy with anticipation, knowing exactly what was coming.

My parents would start to back the car out of the driveway, ready to take off down the street, and as they pulled away, we would press our cheeks to the windows, or hang our heads out of the car if it was warm, and watch as Pop-Pop started to run behind the car. He kicked off at a jog, keeping up with our initial slow place, but he wouldn’t stop there. As my parents started to accelerate to road speed, he would pump his arms, bringing his knees high up toward his chest in an all-out run. He followed the car until we rounded the corner, turning onto the main road to get out of the neighborhood, where his stride would eventually peter out, as we waved madly, shouting goodbye at the top of our lungs. He did this every single time, well into his seventies. You could say he was in it for the long run.

During Pop Pop’s later years, he continued building on his legacy of kindness, care, and humor. After moving to Maine, he became our dog Champ’s new best friend, an invaluable contributor to household chores, and got to dust off his classic grandpa jokes as a great grandpa - though Pop Pop would have insisted, he was already a GREAT grandpa even beforehand. He cared dutifully for Pat as her health declined, always staying by her side and cheering her up during her most challenging times. His jokes and his deep love for his family never waned, and neither did his devotion to his Dunkin Donuts coffee. Joe always had a thirst for life, and a thirst for a cup of Joe - plus 10 creams and 10 sugars of course! Pop Pop loved Dunky’s’ “nectar of the gods” so much, when he punctured the side of his styrofoam cup once, he chose to chug the entire cup out of the side. Fittingly, his 90th birthday cake was Dunkin themed. In addition to celebrating his 90th and the birth of two great grandchildren, Pop-Pop also stuck around long enough to see his two grandsons get married and one of his granddaughters engaged. Joe and Pat’s steadfast and loving relationship is a model for me and my wife, and any couple. Joe maintained his workout regime and daily habits until the last few months of his life, and kept a positive attitude even as it became clear his body was failing him. He never lost his sharp mind and wit, and he was making jokes until the very end.

As you all know, Joe was a special person. He left a major mark on so many people’s lives, and he will live on forever in our hearts. One of the last things Pop-Pop said to me was “we’re Pals, Matthew”, but he didn’t need to say it, because he had been showing me that we’re pals for my entire life. He had a way of doing that, giving subtle and not-so-subtle clues that you were his pal. It was the honor of a lifetime to be Joe’s pal, and he honored so many with that distinction. Joe, I speak for all of us when I say: we love you so much, and you will always be our pal.

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Dear Pop-Pop:

It’s been 21 years, five months, and four days since I took my first breath on this planet, and you have been part of my life every second of it. Everyone knows there will be a day when the oldest, wisest, and most caring people in your life leave but it’s not something you can ever be fully prepared for. A long fulfilling life isn’t promised to anyone, but every once in a while the universe will choose a very special individual and bless them with one. Never in my life have I known a person as patient, kind, loving, hard-working, and thoughtful as you, Pop-Pop. I am eternally grateful for the countless memories I have of you. Though I’ll never get to hear your voice again, the endless hours you spent reading to me as a child will forever remain as echoes in my mind. Though I will never get to hold your hand or give you a hug again, the memories of cuddling and hugs and you holding my hands to warm them up from the cold are some of the most comforting I have. I remember when I was young and I would visit, you always gave the biggest and safest hugs and you never seemed to want to let go. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized why. I am so grateful for the last few hugs I shared with you. As I held your body, now much smaller than mine, as close to my heart as physically possible, I realized why you never wanted to let go. Life is so fleeting, it passes in an instant. I should have held tighter. I wish I had never let go. There is so much more I could say but I’m sure you’re very busy, so I’ll end with this: Thank you. Thank you for being so impactful in my life, even to this day. We share a love of cards, word games, books, musicals, movies (and knowing every actor by name and every movie they play in), and probably countless other things. As much as it hurts, this is goodbye, but never will there be a day where I don’t carry the love I have for you in my heart. Every day I will hope that I can show everyone around me even a fraction of the love and kindness you always made sure that everyone around you felt. Please give Pat-Pat a hug for me. I can only imagine the beautiful reunion that Heaven recently witnessed. I love you Pop-Pop and I’ll miss you forever.

- Ahleah Sims