Monday, April 1, 2019
Pop’s Eulogy
He was born by the Sea and forged by the Mountains.
My father loved his homeland. Born October 1st, 1930 in Capodistria, his nationality was Italian but his backbone was Germanic. Had he been born only 13 years earlier he would have been Austrian, like his parents.
He came from a family of 4 boys and each one of them was special. They spent their childhood with the Adriatic and Alps as their playground. He learned to swim by being thrown out of a rowboat way off shore and given no choice but make it back alive. That’s how they built men back then. In winters, he took the White Train to the Alps and skied the Dolomites. He hiked and climbed those same mountains in the Summer. He loved being outdoors and it served him well. He was a strong man.
Unfortunately, in 1945, the family’s paradise was lost. His father was killed, and the survivors were forced out of their homeland. They lost every last thing that was precious to them but they didn’t have the luxury of time to grieve. The boys had to find a way to survive and take care of their mother.
For a while, they called Trieste home and found whatever work they could to put food on the table. Hard work became a constant companion for my father but he never complained, in fact, he absolutely loved being busy. As it turns out, that work ethic would serve him well in his new country.
Over the following decade, the boys and their mother all made their way to America. In New York, my father found a new home with the Long Island Sound and Adirondacks as his new playground. And, in NYC, between the hard work and play, he met the love of his life on a subway. Mom and Dad married on May 10th, 1959, with almost 60 years together, they never left each others side.
Within our family, we had 2 very distinct impressions of my father.
The First impression was of the Disciplinarian. He was Captain Von Trapp from the Sound of Music.
My Father had 3 brothers and my Mother had 1 brother and 3 sisters. Therefore, our extended family was pretty sizable. We had lots and lots of cousins. And we all spent a lot of family time together. Of course, that meant the kids were always running around - burning energy - and getting into lots and lots of trouble. We were a handful.
However, all it ever took was ONE WHISTLE from my father and we would drop EVERYTHING - run back home - form a straight line, stand at attention, and wait for his instruction. While my brother and I definitely took it a little more seriously than my cousins, we all knew he meant business and he always had our respect.
The Second Impression we had of my father was that of the ICEMAN.
In 1991, archeologists found a 5300 yr old corpse on the Mountain border between Italy and Austria and they named him Otzi, the Iceman.
My mother immediately recognized that Otzi had to be a distant relative of my father because the similarities were uncanny. Otzi liked to take long walks between Austria and Italy. He was found with a small collection of tools neatly tucked into a bag.
And, it was determined Otzi had an affinity for bacon, aka prosciutto. Sounds a lot like someone we all know and love, Uccio, the Mountain man.
Speaking of bacon…
As the years progressed, my dad found much happiness in the garden and in the kitchen. He grew herbs, lettuce and vegetables and used those, plus prosciutto, to recreate all of his childhood recipes. He could make a feast out of a couple of ingredients. He cooked for us at home and he cooked for his co-workers on his lunch break. He was the consummate Host and he just loved entertaining. I’m certain almost everyone in this room had the benefit of enjoying his many Istrian specialties.
His favorite American meal to prepare was the New England Clam Bake, which he made almost every 4th of July on a small fire pit in our backyard. And, again, I’m sure almost everyone in this room had the pleasure of attending many of the epic Independence Day parties my parents hosted at their own little paradise on the water in Bayville. He loved his home, he loved his heritage, and mostly he loved sharing it with all of you. He was a happy man.
Together my parents built a very successful life. A life full of family, travel, and fun times. Albert and I were very fortunate they were eager to explore the country and expose us to the American experience through travel. During our childhood, every summer, we took off in our car and I believe we made it to at least 40 of the 50 continental states on various road trips.
I remember crayons melting in Arizona, HUGE French fries in Texas, Turquoise jewelry from New Mexico, the smell of sulphur in Pueblo, Colorado, the rapids of the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon, Old Faithful in Wyoming, Grizzly Bears in Yellowstone Park, the flat plains of Montana and of the Dakotas, Mexican Jumping Beans in South Carolina, and even the Amish of Pennsylvania. His only regret in life was never making it to Alaska. But, we’ll make it. And I thank my parents for instilling that zest for life in both of us.
I know my dad was proud of his children, what we achieved, the lives we built, and the folks we chose to share it with. And, he was overwhelmingly proud of his grandchildren, amazed by their intelligence and success. He had a lot to be thankful for and he was a proud man. He loved you all very much. And we were all very proud to have called him Pop.
With his passing, we lost the last of his kind. A generation that lived through losses we can never fully understand. He was a man’s man. A respectable man. A loving man. And a great father. He will be missed. But, we are so very grateful for the time we had with him and our only regret is that we didn’t have more.
Sending him off with much love forever,
His daughter, Corinne
