One afternoon Jose Ceballos and his uncle, Carlos, got the opportunity to get down by the water. To Jose this was the golden opportunity to impress him.
Jose was telling himself all day, today is the day I catch one. As they waited for a bite, Carlos had plenty of bad jokes lined up, but right in the middle of one, something pulled on the line, and Jose called out:
“I got one, Unc!” Jose reeled in the fish and, pleased with himself, turned to Carlos with a little advice: “Maybe one day you can be like me, Tío.”
Joseph Anthony Ceballos, known to nearly everyone as Jose, was known for making a joke or two himself. He was born and raised in Warminster, Pennsylvania, as the younger of Mayra Ceballos’ two sons and grew into a man who would help anybody with anything.
After high school, Jose went into construction. He could look at something that was damaged, figure out what was wrong and get started on a solution. His girlfriend, Randi Peterson, said one of his favorite things to say was, “It’s broken? Let me fix it.”
That attitude followed him away from the job, too. If a relative needed help with something around the house, Jose was ready to take a look. He was especially good when a situation became stressful. While other people might panic or get frustrated, he would stay calm, crack a joke and start working on the problem.
Jose also worked part-time at a neighborhood deli, where he enjoyed joking around with customers. His playful personality could make an ordinary stop at the deli a little more entertaining. Friends laughed about how Jose could talk about a great hoagie with the same excitement other people reserved for championship games.
“Good food, good company, and good conversation were all part of who he was,” Randi said.
He was killed in Northeast Philadelphia on Dec. 11, 2022. He was 32.
The most important person in Jose’s life was his daughter, Kaeleigh Rae Peterson.
No matter how long his workday had been, he tried to save time for her. Some of their best moments came on Saturday mornings, when they watched cartoons together. Jose didn’t need an expensive outing or an elaborate plan to make his daughter happy. He understood how much it meant to sit beside her and share a laugh.
When Jose wasn’t working, one of the best places to find him was near the water with a fishing rod.
Every chance he got, he was happy loading up gear and heading out with the people he loved. Sometimes the fish cooperated, but to Jose it hardly mattered. The best part was the conversations between casts and the memories made during those quiet hours together. Even on days when no one caught a thing, everyone came home with another story to tell.
His sense of humor showed up almost everywhere. Silences never lasted long around him because he always found something funny to say, especially when plans went wrong,
His family still laughs about the time he broke his hand while trying to play basketball. Rather than complain, he laughed it off and joked that maybe the game just wasn’t meant for him.
Jose is survived by his mother, Mayra I. Ceballos; his daughter, Kaeleigh Rae Peterson; his grandmother, Gregoria Pena; his grandfather, Joe Ceballos; his brother, Dennis M. Storti III; his sister-in-law, Julianna Storti; his uncle, Carlos Ceballos; and many other relatives and friends.
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