What is a Father
Dedicated in Loving Memory to Angelo "Roy" Lorenzo 7/19/1920 ~ 11/17/2000
This truth is abundantly evident when we look at the diversity present in our individual experiences & memories of our parents, & this week ~ Those men who we would call...Father.
My Dad - Full blooded, first generation Italian, and fiercely proud of it.
He was a short stocky man, with tremendous strength and character.
He had many friends, and I always felt important when we were together...
My hand would get lost in his big, heafty palm.
His strong grip around my tiny fingers.
Believe it or not, I was very shy and afraid to speak to people...
I would hide behind him, venturing out occasionaly, feeling safe and encouraged.
He was not versed in the ways of diplomacy, he was opinionated and he loved to shout and pound on things.
My father loved cliche's; "Who do you think you are, the Queen of Sheba,?" ," Do you think money grows on trees?" and my all time favorite, "Don't get smart!'...that one always baffled me...especially with all the money (that didn't grow on trees) that he spent on my education...was I supposed to get dumb?
Even though he was forced to leave High School, one year short of graduation, due to family obligations, he never lost his passion for learning...
He was very intelligent and read everything he could get his hands on...
Our nightly dinnertimes were often laced with loud and passionate debates on current events and the state of the world...
My mother would always say, exasperated,
"No arguing at the dinner table" to which my father and I would glance her way, with puzzled looks, and say..."Arguing? Whose arguing?"
He was generous to a fault, he gave new meaning to the expression "he would give you the shirt off his back"...you would get the shirt, the car, the house and anything else that wasn't nailed down.
My dad was an honest, uncomplicated man...he required little to be happy, and relished in the simple pleasures, an ice cold glass of root beer, apple pie ala mode, the evening newspaper or a good book, golfing with his buddies and spending time with his family.
And even though he was not overtly demonstrative of his affection...you knew you were loved...he was always there if you needed him...no matter what time of the day or night...you could depend on his presence, strength and support.
After his death, I heard, many, many stories of this fierce loyalty and generosity...from people outside our immediate family...stories I had never heard...that he had kept to himself...he was also, a very humble man.
He was like every father, flawed, vulnerable, beautiful and strong. I like to think that, among other things, I inherited his tremendous generosity of spirit, his powerful strength of conviction and passion about the things that he believed so powerfully in, his tremendous capacity to love and his never wavering loyalty to not just his family but all that came into his large sphere of influence.
As we remember this Sunday, those men, whom we would call father...
May our memories be true and honest...and may we embrace not only their stregnths, but thier flaws and weaknesses as well..with compassion, gratitude, forgiveness, humor and love.
May we now honor and praise those men, who we would call father...
Here with us still, for all the meaning they bring to our lives...
And for all that they are...
And let us, also, honor and praise those men, who we would call father...
Who have passed on, but remain still, in our memory and whose love continues to nuture and sustain us.
As for me...I think I will settle back with a good book, a frosty mug of A&W and immerse myself in the memories and the totality of his ever present Love.
This one's for You, Dad!
"I Love You...Above and Beyond...To the Moon and Back!"
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