Yesterday was my grandfather's birthday. If grandpa had taken better care of himself, he would have been 120-years old yesterday!
Grandpa was a tough old guy who was always in the midst of
adapting to life here in America. He started a business that my grandmother
took over when he died. When WWI came along, so did he, joining the American
cavalry and communications unit. He along with his best friend Ralph, joined up
together.
There are many legends about the man, his strength, and
combativeness being some of them, a quick-tempered man who wouldn't deal with
nonsense no matter where it was quartered. He was infatuated with my grandmother,
a beautiful red head from Naples and together they formed a union that lasted
only a short time.
When the war was over, grandpa was shipped home from Europe
with Spanish Influenza. They slapped him in a hospital and asked him to kindly
stay there. But no, Giuseppe refused to stay down. He was home- sick for his
three children. In February of 1920, a snow storm hit the New York Area, a
perfect time for grandpa to check up on his family.
Let alone in his room, in the midst of a blizzard of
17.5" of white stuff, he climbed out of his hospital room on the second
floor and went home, trudging through the snow. I don't know if he had any
clothes on but he did make it home to see his bambinos. Come Father's Day he
would have been owed big-time, instead, he never made it past the following
week when he died of pneumonia!
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| The house he died in is still standing! |
He left Grandma with three children, and the hospital bills
which she paid and the beginnings of a successful career for Grandma who
parlayed that into a grocery store, restaurant and a few apartment buildings in
Brooklyn. He children helped her with her English and she was able to thrive
through the Great Depression.
But it was Grandpa nad his spirit to love and be with his
children that I think is most remarkable.
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