I still miss my Dad

It was three years ago today that my father passed away. I am thankful that he lived to a good old age and we had a great relationship, and I have nothing but fond memories. But I still miss him.

Yes, losing loved ones is part of life, and time does have a way of tempering the loss. Furthermore, my faith assures me that I will be reunited with him. But every once in a while it hits me like a ton of bricks that he is no longer around. But then, the renewed sensation of loss is quickly followed by a bittersweet joy that reminds me what a great dad I had.

At his funeral it was my privilege to give one of the eulogies. After rereading what I wrote at the time, I realize that I would not change a thing.

"Manifesto" a Worthwhile Read for Reasonable Minds

The left loves to hurl epithets at conservative talk radio. They have a right to their opinion, but I think they would get a lot more traction if they tried to engage in serious debate about the actual assertions and ideas expressed as opposed to just ranting and raving about Rush babies, ditto heads and Hannity’s insanity. My suspicion is that the louder and more persistent they are in name calling, invective and mockery, the less likely it is that they have ever stopped to listen and consider what is being said, much less engage it in serious debate.

I don’t get much of a chance to listen to talk radio unless I happen to have a day off in the middle of the week, except I do manage to catch a few minutes of Mark Levin while driving home, just after the news at the top of the hour. And Levin is probably my least favorite talk show host, not because I have any substantive disagreement with what he says, but because I don’t care for his style. He strikes me as a bit shrill and sometimes stoops to the same level of invective that is more typical of the left, prematurely cutting off debate with his infamous line, “Get off the phone, you big dope!”

It’s for this reason that I was somewhat hesitant to pick up a copy of Levin’s latest book. But after hearing one rave review after another week after week as it remained at the top of the New York Times Bestseller List, I finally picked up a copy of Liberty and Tyranny: A Conservative Manifesto (New York: Threshold Editions, 2009). I quickly learned that whatever defects I might find in Levin’s spoken delivery on talk radio is more than compensated for in the written word. The book is persuasive and well documented, and does an excellent job of educating the reader about the people and ideas that inspired our Declaration of Independence and Constitution, and how those ideas have ever since been under assault and have ever so slowly eroded over time.

Rascally Right Wing Radicals

We have been warned by no less than our own Department of Homeland Security:

Rightwing Extremism: Current
Economic and Political Climate Fueling
Resurgence in Radicalization and Recruitment

In its key findings at the beginning of the report, DHS admits that threats from the right “during 2009 have been largely rhetorical and have not indicated plans to carry out violent acts.” But further on, the report warns that, “Rightwing extremist chatter on the Internet continues to focus on the economy, the perceived loss of U.S. jobs in the manufacturing and construction sectors, and home foreclosures.” You just can’t be too careful, you know. With economic times being what they are, and a new administration taxing and deficit spending us into economic oblivion, enough people might get really angry, and who knows what they might do. Why, they might even go out and join an organized protest!

Honoring the Living

You will notice that my last few posts were about some very dear people whom I wanted to honor on the occasion of their passing. When I shared these posts with a friend from work, she gave me some positive feedback along with some helpful advice: “I wish someone would write similar memories of me when I die. Come to think of it, we should write about the people we love and care for BEFORE they die, not after. It’s then a testament of their value which they can appreciate while living”

Good advice indeed! I got to put it into practice the other day, on the very special occasion of my mother in-law’s 90th birthday, which we celebrated in the fellowship hall of Rosebank United Methodist Church in Cecil County, Maryland. As the cake was being served, I got to share the following:

Mat's Blog

[Originally Published at "Down With Absolutes" on March 14, 2009]
Mat,

Congratulations on your new blog, Men of Reason. I have seen many others like it, and I often wonder about their necessity. Really, if you are convinced about atheism, is it all that necessary to propagate it with such religious fervor? If there really is no God, what is the harm of people believing that there is one? While I can concede that some terrible injustices have been perpetrated in the name of God by overzealous people, belief in God and the corollary beliefs that He is just and will hold us accountable for our actions have on the whole made the world a better place. Even atheists have conceded as much. By contrast, my gut reaction to those who wear atheism on their sleeves is “Methinks he doth protest too loudly.”

Zio Ugo

[The English version of this post is immediately below this one.]

A volte sembra che non smetta mai di piovere. Avevo appena finito di scrivere un tributo per la mia amata Zia Fortuna, quando essa fu seguita da suo marito, mio Zio Ugo. Anche lo zio, come lei, stava molto male da un paio d’anni, e ambedue soffrivano molto in questi ultimi mesi. Per grazia di Dio, se ne sono andati a distanza di pochi giorni l’un dall’altro.

Come descrivere Giuseppe Scarfì, conosciuto a me e a tutti come Zio Ugo?... Era lo zio divertente, sempre pronto con una barzelletta, (a volte non del tutto pulita, con gran disappunto della zia...). Amava molto la sua famiglia e tutti i suoi parenti. Si rivolgeva a tutti con espressioni affettuose come "tesoro" o "gioia", e lo diceva di cuore.

Zio Ugo

When it rains it pours. I no sooner finished writing a tribute for my beloved Zia Fortuna, than her husband, Zio Ugo, followed shortly after her. Like hers, his health had been deteriorating for years, and both of them had been suffering greatly over the past month or so. By God’s mercy, they went within a few days of each other.

How do I describe Giuseppe Scarfì, known to me as Zio Ugo? He was the fun uncle, always good for a joke (sometimes a bit off color, much to Zia Fortuna’s chagrin). He dearly loved his family, both immediate and extended. He addressed young and old alike with terms of endearment such as tesoro [treasure] and gioia [joy], and they were heartfelt expressions.

Zia Fortuna

[The English version of this post immediately follows this one.]

Fortunata Vadalà Scarfì, la sorella di mio papà, era per me “Zia Fortuna”, nome in un certo senso sbagliato, dato che fu abbastanza sfortunata, particolarmente durante la seconda metà della sua vita. Però, pensandoci bene, nessuno lo avrebbe mai saputo osservando la sua gioia e serenità imperturbabili, e il suo sorriso contagioso, anche in mezzo alle avversità.

L’ho conosciuta per la prima volta quando avevo tre anni, duranta una lunga vacanza in Italia. Ricordo ben poco di quell’estate del ’61, però apparentemente ero rimasto invaghito da Zia Fortuna. Da allora, molte volte mi rammentò una conversazione che avemmo quando stavo per tornare in America.

“Ora te ne vai in America, e mi lasci sola.”

Fortunata Vadalà Scarfì: Requiescat in Pace

 Born Fortunata Vadalà, my father’s sister was known to me as “Zia Fortuna”, which literally means “Aunt Luck”. Her name was a bit of a misnomer, as she had her share of misfortunes, particularly during the latter part of her life. But then again, you wouldn’t know it by her unflappable joy and serenity and her contagious smile, even in the midst of adversity.

I first met her when I was three years old, during a long vacation in Italy. I remember very little about that summer of 1961, but I was apparently taken with Zia Fortuna. Numerous times since then she lovingly reminded and teased me about a conversation we had just before it was time for my parents and me to return to the states:

“Ora te ne vai in America, e mi lasci sola.” [Now you are going back to America and you will leave me all alone.]

“No, zia, Fortuna!” I protested with sincerity and innocence. “Io non ti lascerö mai sola!” [I will never leave you alone.]

Birthdays

Today, February 10th, is my 51st birthday. No big deal.

Though I certainly enjoy the well wishes I have received, and the extra nice birthday meal, it’s funny how the excitement of birthdays diminishes with age. When I was a kid I looked forward so much to February and my special day. I also shared a birthday with my beloved grandmother, Nonna Antonia, and I never minded dividing the attention with her. I thought it was kind of neat to have the same birthday as my nonna. Here is a picture of a typical celebration, when I turned three and she turned fifty-eight. There I am standing on a chair between nonna and my beautiful mother, with everyone else either looking into the camera or drooling over my mother’s strawberry shortcake, which was something to die for!

In addition to enjoying my birthday as a child, I also looked forward to February for the hope of a good blizzard or two that might get me out of school. Now it seems that if it snows at all, it’s only enough to get my kids out of school but not enough to shut down the federal government (my beloved employer), so what good is that? For that and other reasons (also related to age) I have come to have little use for February’s cold, short and dark days. And with birthdays not as exciting as they used to be, the month has little or no redeeming social value. (Okay, the romantic side of me still enjoys Valentine’s Day.) I have heard (though I am not sure it is true) that the ancient Romans left January and February off of their calendar because they would just as soon not acknowledge these otherwise dreary and entirely forgettable months.

Don’t get me wrong. Life is good and every day is a blessing. But I’m more than ready for spring.