TONY

There are 4 times when we celebrate, and times when we commemorate, and sadly, today I commemorate. 93 years ago today, my dad, Tony was born. He wasn’t born to nobility, fame or fortune, just a humble beginning in Rockville Center. His real name is Anthony, and he was always called Tony.

Tony never finished high school. He attended Harren High in Brooklyn, but his real father died, and he wanted to go to work, during the height of the depression. Leaving school with six months left, he lamented that decision until the day he died.

He tried many things, and finally settled in Manhattan for the New York Laboratory and Supply Company, as a shipping clerk. He raised four children on a meager salary, but saved enough to move his family away from the concrete jungle of Brooklyn, to the wide open spaces of Suffolk County.

He took a job with Rollic Inc., as a foreman for the shipping department, and life seemed so much better for all of us. He somewhat prospered, but not nearly enough to satisfy himself. We lived a comfortable life, doing without when we couldn’t afford, and working overtime to do with. He taught me that.

He would probably ask Mom for a strawberry short cake, and one of his five children would wrap a head of lettuce up and give it to him for a birthday present!

He had a cadre of riders, old maids that worked in Rollic for years, as operators of sewing machines and trimmers. Tony would pick up each one at her doorstep, so as not to wait for a bus in the blazing sun and frigid temperatures.

Everybody loved him. He didn’t have an enemy in the world, but one or two disliked him because he had a family of loyal children.

He didn’t give me much, just a lot of loving moments and happy memories.

Happy Birthday, Dad. We all love and miss you!