Today we celebrate dads everywhere and to all, Happy Father’s Day… past, present and future.
Life has a way of moving on whether or not we like it and I shake my head knowing I’m honoring my dad for the 24th time without him.
At times, it’s hard to remember the sound of his voice, but thankfully I have enough video and audio recordings to remind me.
Being gone for 24 years and ill with Alzheimer’s for 14 more years, I’m hard pressed to remember when I had a conversation with him about anything really. That really bothers me.
I do know this much about my dad – he was a gentle man that worked very hard at two jobs to provide food on our table and clothes on our backs and a roof over our heads.
He was a well-liked guy amongst his high school classmates and co-workers. He never uttered a bad word about anyone; I never heard one criticism of anyone while growing up.
He was loyal, thoughtful, and would help anyone if asked.
I also know he was dedicated to whatever job he held, most of his work years were at Tobyhanna Army Depot where he was elected Commander of the Veterans Council for a two-year term.
Dad loved that position because it meant so much to him being a veteran that was surrounded by veterans and knowing he was elected among his peers was gratifying for him.
I always teased him telling him his position was that of a high school class president. You know, I think he liked that analogy as well.
Speaking of high school, he graduated from Pittston High School in 1947, the same year the Sunday Dispatch was born. He wasn’t a class officer, but he ran just about all of his class reunions from the early days until he was incapable of doing it due to his illness.
He really treasured his classmates and many remained friends for decades after graduation. I’m not so sure that happens today. You’re really lucky if you have one or two good friends from your high school days as you go through life.
When dad was no long able to run his class reunions, the baton was handed over to a great committee and was headed by the late Leonard Cumbo. Dad and Lenny remained good friends even to the end and I felt it was necessary for Lenny to be a pallbearer for my dad.
Dad was a resident of the VA Hospital Nursing Home when a reunion was scheduled. Obviously not being able to attend, Lenny and the committee asked my mom to be a guest at the reunion party. Naturally she said yes, but before that happened, I asked Lenny to read a letter I composed on behalf of my dad and my family.
I can remember as clear as day the day I ran the letter to Lenny’s house. I asked him to read it in front of me in case he had any questions about the letter or perhaps it was unclear to him.
As he read it aloud, I could hear his voice begin to crack and his reading became slower and slower until he just broke down in tears.
Before I knew it, we were both crying like babies and it was one of the first times in my life that I felt I had the ability to move someone with my writing. It was a very powerful moment in my life and it affected me to even this day.
I wasn’t writing at that stage of my life but that moment defined what I could do if I put my heart and soul into writing something meaningful.
A few short years later, I penned my very first article that became a cover story for the Sunday Dispatch. There wasn’t a day or a week that went by where I didn’t receive a comment about Dad’s article.
That article prompted me to write a few more for publication before I was offered a chance to write a weekly column in 1999.
So because of my father and that life-altering letter I penned on behalf of my family, it got me into a career I never thought I could do.
Of course, I’ve written about this many times, but another great dad influenced me to write and that was the late Russell Johnson, a native of Ashley, that went on to play the role of “The Professor” on “Gilligan’s Island.”
Russell encouraged me to put my mind to writing, “to see where it could take you,” he said.
I’m lucky and grateful to have a lot of great dads that influenced me in my life and molded me and guided me.
I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the biggest influence next to my dad, but his father, my Grandfather Callaio. He taught me the meaning of common sense and practicality. He was wise beyond wise.
As a dad, I’m also thankful to have two daughters that make me proud and happy. It’s very hard to believe they are in there 30s because it feels like yesterday I was in my 30s.
The cycle of life is ever present in our minds and the joy of new life and the sorrow of death keep us all humble.
Quote of the week
“The older I get, the smarter my father seems to get.” – Tim Russert
Thought of the week
“A father doesn’t tell you he loves you. He shows you.” – Demitri the Stoneheart
Bumper sticker
“It is a wise father that knows his own child.” – Shakespeare
