April 4, 2006

So I am going to start this up again after a week away.

I want to warn all that I will probably not proofread or go back to make any alterations as I am short on time. The reason I was away was that I was in California with my family attending my grandfather's funeral. It was as good as it could have been (given the circumstances) and a fitting farewell for a man who was loved by so many. Anyway, in the last 3 sentences i've decided that instead of droning on and on myself I would include the awesome eulogy my mom wrote and myself and my brother had the pleasure of reading at the service. I think it sums things up better than I ever could. I will miss you "Old Buddy, Old Pal of Mine"...

Victor J Mazzeo -- December 16, 1922 - April 4, 2006

On behalf of Mom and our entire family, please know how deeply we appreciate your presence here today. This is one of those occasions that we all hope never takes place, but we take great comfort being surrounded by the love and prayers of so many people! We hope to have the opportunity to thank each and every one of you for your love and support of both Dad and Mom over the years.

But before we bid Dad a final farewell, it is important to us to share his story with you. Many of you could add even more details and wonderful stories to what we say; and most of them, I am sure, would make bring a smile or even a big laugh out loud. We hope you’ll share them with us before the day is over.

You know that Dad has always been deeply private and tended to shy away from crowds. Whatever the occasion—even if it was a party in his honor, Dad would find a cozy spot with Mom in a corner so that he could look on and continue to enjoy what was being served—especially if it was Aunt Yolly’s potato salad or her melt in your mouth cheesecake. So as not to make Dad unhappy with us today, we will briefly share a bit about the man we pay tribute to today.

Those that knew dad while he was growing up knew him as Aldo—a name he never liked but hung onto for most of his young adulthood because my grandmother—a devout reader of those sleazy detective magazines—dubbed him with it because Aldo was the name of a hero in one of her stories. Dad was a first generation American, the middle son of Anthony—a furniture maker in upscale New Rochelle NY—and Rose, a seamstress. He grew up in Rye, NY, attended Catholic elementary school and fought the battles of the minorities—the Italians and Irish against the rest of the world. He told me that he would beg his mother not to make his lunch on homemade bread. Couldn’t she please buy some Wonder Bread so that he could have a normal lunch like all of the other kids?

Before his 18^th birthday, Dad lied about his age, enlisted in the army and then went home to tell his parents what he had done. The time that Dad spent in the military and Officer’s Candidate School were his proudest moments; he would be thrilled to see how he was being honored for his service today. After enlisting, Dad attended Kent State University and this is where the great Love Story begins. Dad and some college friends decided to attend a Valentine Day dance in nearby Akron. There he spotted a beautiful, young, dark-haired nursing student who was so tired from school and work that she sat alone in the lobby. Dad sat down to speak with her and the rest is history. They corresponded daily while he was in college and after a long-distance courtship, they married in 1949.

Life moved quickly for the young married couple—Army life, a baby girl, a move from New York to Akron, Ohio, a career as a car salesman and then health issues that I developed that prompted them to sell their home and move west to Arizona. Can you even imagine more devoted parents that would give up everything they have for the sake of their daughter—that’s my mom and dad.!!! Thank God Uncle Lou talked them into coming to visit in Santa Barbara before settling in Phoenix. Dad’s dreams of opening a restaurant became Luigi’s on the beach in Santa Barbara, a devotion of the family’s time and energy. My cousins Phil and Adelle could tell some great stories about working with Dad at the restaurant!

Health problems became the story of dad’s life, but he was a fighter. With the devoted care of my mom/grandma, he enjoyed life after retirement in Cambria in a home they designed and had built. It was last year that, as a family, we decided how important it was to bring mom and dad to Gilroy—a decision that family and friends know was a very good one. Dad wasn’t happy at all about leaving his beautiful home—and he let everyone know he wasn’t happy—but came to make the best of it.

When we tell Dad’s story, we speak of a man with an incredible sense of humor, a personality that made everyone his new best friend, a devoted husband who was fiercely protective of his loving wife—a marriage of 57 years that found them still holding hands, still kissing each other when they left the room and still saying the words, “I love you.” Sometimes, it seemed too good to be true, but anyone who saw them together knew this was a very special couple.

Dad was a man of great faith—not a public display, but a very private man who knelt each night and prayed and sometimes took two hours to come to bed while he said his devotions at each statue in their home. We all know that the love of his life was my mom, but a close behind was his love of cars, good food and a good war movie. His grandsons were the greatest joy of his life—watching them grow, taking them driving (he was the BEST teacher1) and just hanging out with them. As Allyson and MaryAlice became part of our family, they shared how welcome Dad made them feel, part of the family right from the start. Frank and I were so thrilled that Dad and Mom enjoyed our wedding celebration this past December and Dad and Frank had become the best of buddies in no time.

Each of you here today has been touched by Dad in some way and we are so grateful that you are with us to celebrate this very special man. Dad left us on HIS terms—driving his car til the very end, eating out at the Longhouse whenever he wanted, terrorizing the grocery stores in his motorized cart and sharing every waking moment with mom. His greatest fear was suffering another debilitating stroke or in any way, not being able to enjoy life to its fullest. Our family takes great comfort in knowing that Dad will be with us always—he gave us so much to remember and showed us how precious every moment of life is. We love you “Darling”, “Dad”, “Grandpa”, Vic, Uncle Vic.

And when we need you, we will whisper your name in our heart. . .you will be there.