Charlton — Arthur Stephen "Doc" Tieri passed away with his family at his side after more than a decade contending with Parkinson's disease.

He leaves his high school sweetheart and wife of 61 years, Margaret "Peggy" (Madore) Tieri; his daughter, Christine Tieri and her husband, Dennis Antonopoulos; his son, A. Stephen Tieri and his fiancée, Brenda Knight; his grandchildren, Oscar Appleton, Dillon Antonopoulos, Brady Antonopoulos, Alessandro Tieri and Amelia Tieri; his sisters, Ada (Tieri) Pezzetti and Sylvia (Tieri) Dunne; numerous nieces, nephews and cousins; his lifelong hunting buddies; and approximately 100 other relatives with last names that end in a vowel.

Art was born December 8, 1942, in Southbridge, Massachusetts, to Dr. Arthur Joseph Tieri and Philippina (DeAngelis) Tieri. A 1960 graduate of Mary E. Wells High School, he proudly played star running back through three undefeated football seasons — a fact he never forgot to mention any time one of his children or grandchildren lost a game.

He graduated from the University of Massachusetts and then the Massachusetts College of Optometry, now the New England College of Optometry. Drafted into the U.S. Army during the Vietnam era, he served as a captain, stationed in San Antonio and at Fort Dix, where he examined soldiers' eyes and oversaw an optical fabrication lab that produced prescription glasses. Art was also a pilot, and during his years in the service, he and Peggy would fly back and forth from his bases to the Southbridge airport to visit family.

After his military service, Art and Peggy returned to the area, where he established his optometry practice and raised Christine and Stephen.

Following in his father's footsteps, "Doc" cared for generations of local families for more than 40 years. He made house calls, ran glaucoma clinics, covered for fellow optometrists when they were ill, and was a lifelong member of the Massachusetts Society of Optometrists. He was also a member of the Lions Club, where he volunteered in efforts to screen children for vision problems. He once fitted one of his children's friends with her first pair of contact lenses at the kitchen table before a high school dance — which she still refers to as her "Princess Diaries" moment.

If you didn't know, Art was the original MacGyver. His children still suspect the television show was created after someone secretly installed a camera in their house. There was very little that couldn't be fixed with a roll of duct tape, a pair of pliers and a healthy dose of brute force. He restored '65 Mustangs with his kids, took carburetors apart with 300 pieces strewn across the basement and somehow put them back together with only 20 or so pieces somehow left over. He was also a willing participant in Christine's many renovation projects, where there may have been the occasional encounter with a live electrical wire.

Art brought a healthy — ahem — spirit of competition to family life and youth sports alike. He coached throughout Stephen's Little League years, umpired Christine's Lassie League games and saw no reason to lower his expectations simply because some of the players were six. He never missed one of Steve's soccer or baseball games and remained an enthusiastic spectator of his kids' and grandkids' athletic lives.

To his grandchildren, he was simply "Pop," a name that caught on so thoroughly that every toddler at Oscar's daycare would yell, "Hi Pop!" when he arrived for pickup. His grandchildren were among the greatest joys of his life, and he loved watching them swim, fish, kayak, and play fiercely competitive Wiffle ball at the lake. A lifelong Red Sox fan, he shared the suffering with Oscar, who once observed, before the Sox finally won it all, "Pop, it's hard being a Red Sox fan," to which Pop replied, "Oscar, you have no idea." He marveled at Dillon and Brady's ability to nail clutch threes during their high school basketball careers; watched Sandro grow taller than any Tieri in recorded history and consume a family-sized serving of gnocchi all by himself; and was endlessly amused by Mimi's sly wit and her knack for timing the perfect comment while the boys were being boys.

Art's mischievous streak started young and continued right up until his death. His sly grin usually meant he was up to something. He loved fishing and hunting, and in later years sometimes traded his gun for a camera to photograph the wildlife instead. He and Peggy brought the kids on family vacations in Maine and adventures farther afield, then later continued traveling together to many parts of the world. A self-proclaimed curmudgeon, Art nevertheless managed to make friends nearly everywhere he went.

Although Doc was a great doctor, he was not a great patient — and was, in fact, IMpatient with just about everything. Parkinson's eventually took away his ability to walk, but not his ability to remain one step ahead of those around him. His family is especially grateful to the nurses and staff at The Overlook, who met even his most challenging days with patience, kindness and humor. Whenever the family apologized, the floor manager would reassure them, "We love Arthur. He keeps us on our toes." The family remains deeply grateful for that generous interpretation.

Art was not a man of grand declarations. He showed people he cared in more practical ways: he showed up, fixed what needed fixing, cheered from the sidelines (occasionally from closer to the action than officials would have preferred) and was always ready to share a good laugh. His family likes to think he is finally at peace, with his beloved hunting dog Snoopy by his side.

Because Art was never one to make a fuss or be the center of attention, there will be no calling hours or funeral service.

Those who knew him are invited to share a memory with the family in the online guestbook and, in lieu of flowers, to honor "Doc" by lending someone a hand, helping solve a problem, sharing a good laugh, or stirring up a little harmless mischief.