Wednesday, September 29, 2021
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Fried calamari. Clams from pub 199. Pasta with oil and basil. Lobster. Snails. A good apple turnover. French onion soup. Pastrami. Maria’s sauce with the salsa to make it “spicy”.
Before I could do anything else. Before I spoke of my dads amazing work ethic, his love for all things outdoors… I had to mention food. Cause to know my dad, You had to know his love of food. He loved his family- but if it came down to a family visit or a hot dog 3 hours away, you knew he was picking the hotdog. It was his passion. To travel no matter how far away and experience a good meal. He would talk to the owners like he knew them for years- take their card to remember for the next time and stash them in a little binder. Even at a young age- it was food that brought our family together. From when my Nona would make chicken soup at 1am for him and the family, to the hot grill runs, to the texts that were just one line…. “Dinner 4pm”. As I got older, it became harder and harder to get to those impromptu dinners.. work, life.. so on. And perhaps that may be my personal regret that I didn’t get to more. But dad lived life so fast- and planning never suited him. When the inspiration for a trip to Chicago or drive to get food hit him… you were either there or left in the dust.
But that’s dad. And food was his love language. He rarely said the words but if my father ever showed up to your home with a plate of food or fruit- you were loved. If you got a text for dinner at 3- you were loved. If he sent you a text of random picture of food- you were loved. Even having my mom over for every family event and Christmas- I was always thankful to never have to choose between parents cause dad would never forget to remind me “bring your mother”… if food was love to my father- then the table was the greeting card it came in.. and for all those here that sat with him.. you were loved.
And always by his side was Maria. His wife and partner in adventure. Always there to keep him in line- be the voice of reason. She was for the most part the only one that could manage dad… speak to him and get through to him. Now I’m not saying that it worked all the times- but Maria knew exactly how to get the job done with him. She always tried to make our family whole in the craziest of times. Maria is my dads best friend, his soulmate. And in my dads last days, you knew how deep their love is. And I’m eternally thankful every day for her.
And with mammi came Jojo and lupa- my sisters. As the elder kid, I would like to think I was the trial kid.. cause an Italian man raising an American daughter has it’s difficultly for sure. Cultural mistakes may have been made- but once dad saw me growing up, I think he knew how to do better for them. He was pop to them- and I know he loved every moment raising them like his own. I remember the smile on dads face for Jojo’s quince. The man glowed In pride that day. Jojo was his buddy for sure. The one he would grab for trips, free labor, or anything he needed. And of course dad was always proud of lupa and her work ethic… strong and fearless. I remember dad one day being worried for her and how she would live on her own one day. Man did she show him… to my sisters. As a reminder- If your ever feeling low and miss him. I just want you to close your eyes.. and think of the speedo.
He loved his sisters giovanna. He loved his brother Carmen.. and true story when dad passed- a wind storm blew through. The doors were slamming in the house and you could hear the trees shaking. And I smiled- cause I know heaven was not prepared for my dads arrival. But I know dads now on his 6th bowl of pasta from my Nona. Hugging my grandfather. Playing cards with uncle (or perhaps arguing , you never knew)… and seeing those that we have lost before..
Dad I’ll carry your memory with me til I see you again… at the dinner table, on any adventures I may have.. with family and friends. Love you.
