A tribute to My brother Girard A. Nardone

Girard A. Nardone
Westerly - Girard A. Nardone, the former Chief Laboratory Technologist at
Westerly Hospital and lifelong Westerly resident, died Sunday Feb. 8, 2009, at
home surrounded by family. He was 84.
Mr. Nardone, the son of the late Sabino and Mary Columbia Genzale Nardone,
was passionate about the medical field at a young age. After graduating from
Westerly High School in 1942, he went on to Providence College to study premed.
His college career was interrupted so he could serve in the US Army as a
medical technician during World War II. Mr. Nardone returned to Providence
College after the war. During his college years, he also met his wife of 58
years, M. Agnes O'Neill Nardone of Westerly.
Mr. Nardone graduated from college in 1947, and went on to become Chief
Laboratory Technologist at Westerly Hospital, overseeing the hospital
laboratory, phlebotomy, and blood bank operations. He held this position for 35 years until he
retired in 1983. Mr. Nardone was also a member of the Westerly Hospital Management Team since
its inception and a member of many hospital committees.
Mr. Nardone loved the water, boating and fishing, and was a member of the Westerly Yacht Club.
He enjoyed going clamming and made the best stuffed clams for family parties. He was a big golfer
and listened to the news every morning when he got up. He also enjoyed listening to Frank Sinatra
and Harry Belafonte. In his later years, Mr. Nardone enjoyed taking rides by the beach.
Besides his wife, Mr. Nardone leaves three daughters, Susan Nardone, wife of Richard Augusto of
Sharon, Mass., Tracey Files, wife of Judson Files, of Mystic and Jane Trubia of Westerly, R.I.; four
grandchildren, Alex and Kelsey Trubia and Kate and Lauren Augusto; two brothers, Arthur, husband
of Jean, and Charles, husband of Nelda, both of Pawcatuck; one sister, Angela Wardman, wife of
Jonathan Wardman, of Pawcatuck; a brother-in-law, Arthur O'Neill of Pawcatuck and a sister-in-law,
Esther O'Neill, of Pawcatuck.
Mr. Nardone is also predeceased by another sister-in-law and dear friend, Sister Eleanor O'Neill.
Calling hours will be held from 4 to 6 p.m. on Wednesday at Gaffney-Dolan Funeral Home, 59
Spruce St., Westerly. A funeral mass will be said at 10 a.m. Thursday at Immaculate Conception on
High St., Westerly.

Girard's daughter Susan Nardone wrote a glowing Eulogy which she read at the Funeral Mass which was held at the Immaculate Conception Church in Westerly, Rhode Island, and it is as follows:
He always wore his white lab coat
and, though he seemed important, he would always stop to show me or Tracey
or Janie something about his work, something about the test tubes, and
vials, and sterile needles. We were so proud of him. We were always
welcome, Girard’s kids. Dad was a sensitive family man, an ardent
sportsman, a lover of reading, a lover of focused, solitary activities. We
often joined him though. Janie told me just the other day about how he
invited her and her sketch pad on one of his morning boating and fishing
trips to Quonny pond. He made her a thermos of hot chocolate. He fished,
she sketched,. She was just five. In the last few years, dad's favorite
activity was to ride by the beach, all the while commenting on the sunny
skies, the blue water, the summery day, and my skillful driving. You, he
would say, are a great driver. You are a perfect driver. He was humble to the core;
a character trait that I think is more precious than all others. He
accomplished so much in his life, as young man drawn fascinated by the
mysteries of science, the big brother of Charlie, and Arthur, and Dolly.
And, as a young adult who led the laboratory at the Westerly Hospital to a
highly respected place in the community. He was the kind of boss who
helped those around him to achieve their potential. Family time was most
precious during our vacations. He investigated, and found Papoose Pond, a
special place that we still go to, as far as we're concerned, he
discovered Provincetowna magical land for our young sensibilities, a
memorable place to walk around. He took us to Vermont to stay in a
beautiful, woodsy lodge, to try skiing on a mountain where dad would teach
us how to snow plow. Bend your knees, put the tips of the skis together,
now, push! Dad loved his grandchildren, often repeating their
misinterpretations of life. --One of the most memorable being Lauren's description of the three wise men as the three wise guys. He talked of them with pride and affection: Alex has a smile that lights up the whole world. The girls: Kelsey, Lauren,
Katie: talented, loving, beautiful inside and out. He loved and honored my
mom, his wife Agnes, with a tenderness that seemed to grow. Of all the
names he couldn't recall--he never, ever forgot hers. I couldn't even think
about talking about dad without mentioning his cooking skills. Long before
the barefoot Contessa or Rachael Ray, my dad would sit and watch Julia
Child on a Saturday afternoon, picking up subtle details to refine his own
fantastic cooking. Not that I always liked his experiments as a child, I
remember tentatively tasting his pungent baked bluefish with sliced
tomatoes, or the fried mussels that he'd pulled that morning from
Charlestown pond. Who could forget his homemade pizza on Sunday nights or
his baked, stuffed lobster? He was the cook in our family in more ways
than one, bringing together the sometimes colliding, nonsensical, loving, nurturing
elements that make up a family and serving us the very best that life has
to offer: affection, love, listening. His faith in God shined through,
more evident in later years, his belief that he was and is being taken
care of and that he is loved by his family and God. We were with him in
the last moments, and are with him now, a gift from God to us and to dad. – Authored and read by Susan Nardone at the Immaculate Conception Church on February 12, 2009. It is ironic that I am publishing this on February 18, 2009, exactly 30 years from the day that our father, Sabino Nardone, passed away. I will be writing more in this blog from time to time. I hope that you have found something fulfilling from reading this blog.Sincerely,
Charles A. Nardone

New Year Resolutions: To be or Not to be

New Year’s Resolution – To Be or Not to Be
January 1, 2007

On December 30, 2006 I drafted an excellent article that I was going to post to my Blog. I took great pains to write it as objectively as possible – it was not just good, it was excellent – a Classic. Unfortunately, when I clicked on “publish”, I got an error message, and the entire article was lost. I could not recover it, and I’m having trouble recovering from that loss. But, if you care to bear with me, I will try to recollect the wisdom of that article and save it to a document that I can preserve, and then post it to this blog.

I have toyed with making resolutions on the beginning of each new year probably as long as I can remember. At age 73, soon to be 74, that has been, for me, a daunting endeavor. Practically speaking, resolutions have a duration of a few weeks, and sometimes go for as long as a few months. Is it good or not-so-good to make a resolution – that is the question. Personally, I see no harm in it, I believe it is totally beneficial.

All resolutions are to benefit and/or improve ones-self. Some people may disagree with the concept of making resolutions (that will probably be broken) by saying that after you have “broken” the resolution, you can just add that failure to your other failures. Not so! If we are to better ourselves, we must perpetually make such resolutions. With the opportunity afforded by the beginning of a new calendar year, we can in theory begin a new life for ourselves. It is purely a psychological thing.

I was brought up Catholic and I attended a Catholic elementary school. We were required, usually, to go to confession every Friday during the school year. In those years we were required to tell our “sins” to a priest and ask for forgiveness. It was a daunting experience and one designed to make us examine our conscience and refresh our memory of the things that we had done wrong since our last confession. The benefit was that we were taught (and convinced) that when we walked out of the confessional our souls were as pure as the wind driven snow. We were starting out, at that point, with a brand new fresh soul which we could keep pure or mess up at will. No doubt about it, that snow white soul did not last long, but I remember all too well how refreshing it was to walk out of the confessional knowing that I had a fresh new start on life. There was a lot of embarrassment before going into the confessional, and also while we were in the confessional. This is good. There is no gain without some pain. Unfortunately, today, the Catholic church no longer requires telling one’s sins to a priest – now you simply “reconcile” with God by meditating and being sorry for the sins you have committed. Personally, I don’t think that that arrangement “cuts it” at all. In fact, I believe that the elimination of “confession” in the true sense, that is, confessing your sins to a priest (and bearing the embarrassment), has been one of the chief causes for the Catholic Church to go downhill in attendance, membership and devotion.

One of my resolutions this year is to be more attentive to furnishing articles to my blog. I have been admonished by a number of people because I have not published more articles. In response to those people, especially Steve Pasetti, my Connecticut computer Guru, I will make an effort to be more diligent and produce more articles in this blog. I believe that my readers also enjoy viewing some pictures that I have taken and I will be posting some pictures both here and also in my web albums. I have recently posted some pictures of our Christmas decorations and they can be seen at:
http://picasaweb.google.com/CharlesNardonester

My other resolution is to eat less. The winter is a very difficult time to lose weight, but if I can take one day at a time (beginning January 2nd), I think I can make a start. Especially if I maintain a daily journal and track my weight.

Happy New Year, and don’t hesitate to write me with your thoughts – especially about what I have expressed here. I cannot put my e-mail address in this Blog as it will result in spam.

Our 22nd Anniversary

Dear Friends,

Today, November 17th, marks the 22nd anniversary of the day that Nelda and I were married (in 1984). It has been such a fabulous 22 years that I wanted to share this picture with you that was taken right after Nelda and I were married. What a wonderful life we are having together - as you all know. I don't know how it could get better, but it does - day after day.

We are so very fortunate!

Chas

50 years makes a difference

On June 22, 2006 I was awarded a very nice Citation and "Gift" from the Rhode Island Bar Association. Basically, they gave me some recognition for being a member of the Association, and a licensed attorney in the State of Rhode Island for 50 years. It was a very nice affair and the presentation was made at the annual banquet of the Association with about 400 Association members and Judges in attendance. The presentation was made by my friend, Frank Williams, Chief Judge of the Rhode Island Supreme Court.

The "Gift" was an honorary membership which means that I don't have to pay dues any more.

Now for the amusing part - when the photographer who was arranging the dozen or so of us who made up the group of Honorees, he happened to look up and looked me square in the eye and asked, seriously, "Are you sure you're in this group - have you been a member of the association for 50 years?" I couldn't help being amused by his question, and told him that I got an early start and was only 23 when I was sworn in and admitted to practice.

It was a very nostalgic evening for me as I saw many of my peers who I had not seen in many years.

For the heck of it, I put on a bow tie, which was my trademark back in the old days, and I had Nelda take a picture of me so that I could compare present to past. The result is attached.
Feel free to make comment or contact me at nardone@tstar.net

Chas

Interior Mexico - an adventure

On March 15, 2006 Nelda and I, and my brother Arthur and his wife Jean started on an adventure into interior Mexico that has enriched our lives. We spent two weeks touring with Grand Circle and were able to visit a multitude of locations. I was especially pleased that we were not led, exclusively, to the tourist traps. We had some of those, but we also delved into the depths of the country, and saw how many of the natives live. We went through the City of Chihuaha, and the desert country that was so remote that the homes did not have sanitation or running water.

It was a picture taking experience as well as being exposed to Mexican culture. I took many pictures as well as video.

so far, I have put about 10 pictures of our Mexico trip on my Pbase site:
> http://www.pbase.com/nardone

I'll be putting more on very soon. I was unselective and hastily put them on the site. I know that I have not put the best ones on yet - I need to review them all on a full screen and be more selective. I had a lot of fun taking them, and then working them over.

It was a super experience. San Carlos is a fabulous place. The hotel in El Fuerte is a photographer's dream. Copper Canyon was well worth the effort of getting there (but not as grand as the Grand Canyon). The local people, and the culture of the people, as presented by their humble homes, dirt streets, and dirt floors in the homes, lack of basic sanitary facilities, running water, etc. was an experience that I will not soon forget. Everyone that we encountered were pleasant, generous, and welcomed us. If there was any hostility to "tourist picture taking", it was not evident.

We saw extremes in housing that were in contrast to each other and, unless explained, would have been a mystery. The Mormons have settled huge areas of interior Mexico and have planted orchards that seem to run from horizon to horizon. They fill the hills and valleys. The Mexican natives obviously supply the labor, and the Mormons supply the intellect. It must be also mentioned that the Mormons have also set up school systems that are as impressive as any Stateside scholastic institution. The schools are open to the native Mexicans as well as the Mormons. In one picture I have captured the Mormon Temple with a magnificent home in the background, with a small apple orchard in the front yard of this elegant home. I tried to capture as many contrasting architectural and cultural situations as possible. For example, there were many native dwellings that had no glassed windows, a dirt floor, no curtains, no doors, were made from adobe, etc. - but there would be a Dish antenna on the straw covered roof.

In Chihuaha we went to a Farmers market that had, among many, many oddities, a skinned out and dessicated skunk for sale. We were told that it is used as a medicine for a variety of ills. In contrast to that we went to a multi-colored water fountain display at night that was choreographed to Classical music - the fountains were played like a ballet to the synch of the music. Unbelievable - and they played many of my favorite pieces. I got many stills but no video. What a shame.

In the high rent district of San Carlos there is a profusion of multi-million dollar homes, with many of them overhanging the water, and the rest having a fabulous view of the mountains that come down, directly to the water. A principal mountain in the San Carlos harbor has been nicknamed "Goat's Tits" and when you see the picture, you'll know why.

The pearl farm was also of great interest. I took some super pix of pearl seed, and the colorful interior of the pearl oyster shell. Every bit as pretty as the pearl. We also saw exquisite pottery being painted and then fired. A new experience.

I could go on and on, but the pictures will have to speak for themselves. I only regret that I am not at a broadband connection where I could upload pictures to my hearts content. I will also go back to the Pbase site and add explanatory comments.

In all, I took 320 still pictures, Nelda took about 130, and I took 3 1/2 hours of video. I have many more excellent photo's to put on Pbase. Stay tuned, and give the site a bookmark.

A Tribute to Ernest Nardone

This Post is a Tribute to Ernest Nardone who passed away recently, and was written by Gerard A. Nardone (Son of Peter), for the benefit of Ernie's family. It is in the form of a collection of recollections or anecdotes about the life that they had together as "next door cousins" growing up. It is a touching reflection on the good life that existed during the days following the Great Depression, and is proof that life can be, and is, a wonderful experience. This is especially true if we are able to (and allow ourselves) make a friend for life - as is expressed in this most wonderful Tribute to a Friend. Here is Gerard's text:
15 February 2006


To Ernie's family:

I want to extend my very deepest condolences for your great loss. I also want to thank you for keeping me informed about Ernie's condition, I know that my questions were even harder to answer than they were to ask. Then I want also to say how it saddened me not to be able to be there to try to give you some comfort while you endured those difficult days.

However, I thought it might be of some little comfort to you if I told you a little about Ernie's early years and the loving relationship he and I had even before you knew him. It is not my intention to bring a tear, but perhaps a chuckle or two.

Ernie and I were close even before we met. We were born next door to each other toward the end of 1922, Ernie a couple of weeks earlier than I. We were Christened at the same time with his parents as my Godparents and mine as his. The Christening took place early in the summer of 1923 and our parents were quite upset by Fr. Bruno's snide remark, "What took you so long? Were you waiting for them to walk here by themselves?" My mother never got over that.
Mammanonna, who never learned very much English, lived upstairs in Ernie’s house with the Antoninos and we must have spent some time there as our first language was Italian, albeit Mirabellanese. Our households were bi-lingual as our parents were still learning English so our converstions were a mixture of both. We still use some Italian words that are not translatable, but I think you know that.
We played in the yard as little boys and we both remembered the time I was trimming the grass at the edge of the sidewalk with a small axe when Ernie knelt down near to watch and I accidentally cut his knee. I never forgave myself, but in 83 years we never hurt each other again. We also played "down the bank." Behind our houses was a sizeable area where Uncle Sam was excavating gravel to make concrete and his men dug almost to the edge of the lot leaving a narrow grassy strip where we clambered to the top so we could slide down the gravelly slope. This tore large holes in our clothes which our mothers didn't enjoy very much. But all the cousins would gather "down the bank" for our fun games. We would play "Tip-the-finger" where one kid (whoever was "it")would cover his eyes and lean against the barn holding his index finger out behind him. Someone would touch the finger and the one who was "it" would guess who touched him. If he guessed correctly, he would now be "it," if not, everyone would go and hide and the kid who was "it" had to go and find them. A variation of this game was "Kick the can" where we'd place an empty tin can in the middle of a circle while everyone would go hide. Whoever was "it" had to go find everyone and if someone sneaked in and kicked the can out of the circle all those already caught would go free and go and hide again. All went well until someone who was "it"( Cheech Antonino, I think) had the brilliant idea to pee in the can when nobody was looking and the next guy to kick the can got a very unpleasant surprise.
When we were old enough to be allowed to cross the street, we played in the ballfield and at the playground. All the cousins would get together, choose up sides and play baseball or football or Red Rover which was a variation of "Tag" where one kid stood in the center of the field and all the rest ran from one end of the field to the other while the kid who was “it” tried to touch a runner. Those he couldn’t catch then ran the other way the entire length of the field again. This is probably where Ernie developed his running ability because he was the most difficult to catch. On warm summer nights we’d amuse ourselves by seeing how many times we could run around the house, Ernie’s house. Ernie would always run more turns than anybody. During these days we went from roller skates (the clamp-on kind) to scooters and finally to bicycles. Ernie inherited an old bike from his brother (who had bought it from cousin Leo) and I had one that I had bought second-hand for 3 dollars. Mine had a bent fork so to ride “no-hands” I had to lean to the right. These were depression days and our toys weren’t expensive ones, but we were very happy with what we had.
It was during these days that our “bonding” became very strong. Ernie and I were hardly ever out of each other’s shadow, so to speak. Everywhere we went, we went together. We had a counter-pair of closely bonded buddies, too. Henry and Leo. For many years we thought they were cousins like we were, but we found out much later that Henry was Leo’s Uncle! Leo Cardinal was the son of one of Henry’s older sisters. Henry and Leo went to Parochial School where they had classes in religion, but Ernie and I went to Public School so we had to go to Catechism classes after school for First Communion and Confirmation. First Communion wasn’t a problem, but we went to classes for confirmation for two years because the Bishop came down to Westerly from Providence to do confirmations only every two years. Worse yet, when our time came to be confirmed, we were told that we couldn’t be confirmed because we wouldn’t be twelve years old (a requirement) at confirmation time since we started school early. So, we had to go to catechism classes ANOTHER two years! We were so quick with the answers the second time around that the sisters figured we were really eager-beavers and thought that we should become priests! I don’t know how Ernie felt about it, but for me, NO WAY!
Ernie was always a very pious Catholic, he encouraged me to go to Mass every Sunday, he dragged me to May Devotions, the Missions and to confession every month. He was never without his Rosary Beads and he had very definite opinions of the difference between right and wrong. That strength had a very strong influence on my life. I now know the benefits of strong friendships among young people and how that can structure your lives.
As we were growing, the older kids would play their own games and tried to keep us younger kids out of their games. Ernie's older brother Girard was buddies with Ralph and Mike Antonino, while Girard Antonino and Girard (Sabino) teamed up with Ernie and me and we tried to interfere with their games. We would all join ranks, however, when the fruit was ripe, or close to ripe. Adeline had a pear tree and an apple tree that bore real sweet fruit, but Mr. Chase had a couple of cherry trees in his back yard and one of them produced the sweetest cherries we ever tasted. Cheech Antonino climbed the highest, one Sunday night, and filled his shirt with a big load of ripe cherries. We were having a ball when Mr. Chase heard us and came out to chase us away. Most of us got away, but Cheech tried to clamber down quickly but slipped and fell as he hit the ground crushing most of the ripe fruit inside his Sunday shirt. I don't think his mother ever got all the red out.
Uncle Tony had been a bricklayer and stone mason working for his brother, Sam, until his doctor found a heart murmer and advised him to find lighter work. That was around 1928 or 9 so Uncle Tony and Aunt Rose built and ran a grocery store and filling station on the sharp corner of High Street at the foot of Nooseneck Hill. That corner used to be called, “Dead Man’s Corner” because cars would come speeding down the hill and go crashing over the wall at that corner. No telling how many lives were saved by that store being there. We were always afraid that someone would come crashing into the store, but nobody ever did.
We weren't six yet when we started school at the Pleasant Street School, but we were assigned to different teachers. First grade was in the afternoon and second grade was in the morning. It must have been around this time that we discovered that everybody in the world weren't our cousins! We lived in what came to be known as "Nardone Alley" on High Street where we were all cousins, I thought that everybody in the world was a cousin. Besides that, there was a Gerard (or Girard) in every house and if Ernie had been the first son instead of the second he’d be a Girard, too, I don't know what we'd call each other. Maybe we’d use our middle names—then we’d be Frank and Alfonse! Whew! I always felt that Ernie was kind of lucky to have a name all his own because there were so many Gerards. Most of the Gerards even had the same nickname, Cheech, because our grandfather after whom we were all named had that nickname ( he was called Gerardo Mastro Ciccio). I don't know how my nickname got to be "Sonny" but I tried not to let on that I hated it. Ernie's sister, Mary, still calls me Sonny, Bless her heart.
When we were about ten we thought it was time to find out what smoking was all about. We tried dried corn silk wrapped in newspaper, but that wasn’t very good so Ernie would “liberate” cigarettes from the store and we’d go down the bank to smoke. We stood some planks against the concrete wall to construct a kind of teepee as a hid-a-way to do our smoking. There were four or five of us, Ernie and I and a couple of Antonino brothers. We soon realized that we had more cigarettes than we needed, but Ernie couldn’t bring them back and we didn’t want to throw them away, so we lined them up across our mouths and lit them all just to get rid of them, I think Cheech Antonino had six. Well, we threw up such a huge smokescreen that my father thought the place was on fire so he showed up with two buckets of water to put the fire out! When he saw what we were doing, well, do you know what a “conniption” is? We scattered and I ran home and hid behind my mother’s skirt to avoid the whipping I was sure to get. We didn’t smoke again for a very long time.
For third, fourth and fifth grades we went to the High Street School. We finally got into the same classroom at the sixth grade when we were sent to Elm Street School. It was a good long walk from 168 High Street but for the first few weeks we walked home for lunch! Ernie didn't mind, he was always slim and athletic while I was a bit chubby and I could hardly keep up. After a while we brought our lunch to school. A standard lunch consisted of four sandwiches, a piece of pie or cake, a piece of fruit and a pint thermos of milk. We'd always swap a sandwich or two for variety. Aunt Rose made the most delicious banana sandwiches but Ernie graciously gave one up. At that time The Frisbee Company made these little pies, they were about 3 inches in diameter, just right for lunch. I wish they still made them.
After sixth grade we went to Junior High School, it was where we got to meet all the kids from other schools, including Quarry Hill School. In that group was a gorgeous Classic Italian Beauty with jet-black hair and she was a real good singer, too! I think her name was Alice Giannoni, or something like that. With so many Italians in Westerly there was never a problem getting people for Glee Club or Chorus and we joined both. When the High School put on Handel’s Messiah they needed a few more tenors so they canvassed the Junior High for volunteers so Ernie and I went. We had a great time with the older kids, made us feel somewhat more grown up.
Then we went to the new High School. We were in the first class to go through all three years in the new school. Ernie would pop out of his house exactly on time and call my name and we’d go off to school. By the time we graduated, we were among the very few who had gone three years of high school without ever missing a day or being late! I never would have accomplished that without Ernie.
High school was really fun, we enjoyed every minute of it. We did our homework at the store in the show room on Uncle Tony’s side. We helped each other with problems while Uncle Tony rocked in his chair. Whenever we could, we’d go to a movie together, first at the old Lyric Theater on the old bridge, then to the Central Theater “on the other side of the river” then to the United where Henry and Leo were ushers. Until we were 12 we paid a dime, then after that it was a quarter. We loved sports, but since we lived across the street from the ballfield where our mothers could see the ambulance go by during football games, neither of us could get their signatures on the permission slip to play football so we went out for soccer and track. They didn’t know that soccer was almost as brutal as football. Ernie also ran on the track team and since I couldn’t run very fast, I threw things like the javelin and discus. I’ve heard from others, and I’ve learned for myself, that “Home” is where you went to High School.
We graduated together with Henry and Albert Moscaritolo (another cousin) in June of 1940. I still have a picture somewhere of the four of us in our graduation gowns smoking cigars on the front steps of the school. The war in Europe had been going on for 2 years already, but we didn’t pay all that much attention to it. President Roosevelt had promised that “No American boy would be sent to fight in a war overseas,” and we believed him.
With all his outgoing personality and gregariousness, Ernie was a very private person. He kept certain of his personal affairs to himself. I never knew he ever thought about becoming a Dentist! He went off to Providence College and I went to Tufts. Ernie came with us when my family delivered me to the dormitory where I’d been assigned. Saying goodby and watching them drive off was a very sad day in my life. It would have been much sadder if I had realized that the buddy-buddy days with Ernie were over. The Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn of Westerly had grown up. We weren’t the kind of guys who wrote letters and we hardly ever did, but the joy of seeing each other never diminished.
I’d go home to Westerly every 3rd week or so and when I did I’d sometimes take the train with Ernie on Monday morning. He always took the 5:19 out of Westerly and it seemed like a gift when it was changed to the 5:29! Wow! That was early! Ernie did that every day and I’d miss my guess if I thought he ever missed a day!
Ernie went to Dental School in Baltimore before I finished college. He stayed with a Mrs. B. Miller, I think. In February of 1944 I graduated and applied for a commission in the Navy and off I went to the Aleutian Islands. Ernie served in the Army a bit later, but we kind of lost touch there for a while. During the war my family moved to New York. My dad had to give up his business since all the carpenters were either gone to war or working in defense plants and there was no materials for building houses anyway. He was too proud to take a menial job in Westerly. Anyway, when I got out of the Navy I went to New York to live. In those days it was no disgrace for a 24 year-old to live with his parents. Matter of fact, it was a disgrace NOT to.
Ernie and I visited occasionally and when Ernie came to New York, he introduced me to a Dentist friend he met in Baltimore who lived near us. His name was Ralph Menichino. Ernie introduced us to the entire Menichino family. Ralph’s brother, John, was in the same business as me (Construction, of course) so we became good friends.
I attended Ernie and Alice’s wedding in 1949. Phil and I were engaged at the time but it was unheard of for non-married people to travel together, so I went alone. It was a beautiful wedding and Alice made a really beautiful bride. I was a bit upset, though, when some of the guests went into another room to listen to a World Series baseball game.
Ernie and Alice came to our wedding in 1950 and we’ve been visiting back and forth ever since. When Phil had her colon cancer operation, they brought a cooler- full of lobsters! We’ll never forget that and all the other things we’ve done together. Every day I use a silver jigger to pour my scotch, it’s in the shape of a thimble. Every day I hang my coat on a wooden hangar that’s one of six in a gift from Ernie and Alice. We cherish the memories of the visits we enjoyed together in Whitestone, Westbury and here in Knoxville and there on High Street, Champion Street and Shelter Harbor. I can’t forget the graciousness extended to us when my father died nor the sadness of Uncle Tony’s death just one week later. Our house and our lives are filled with the memories of more than 80 years of love and friendship that cannot be matched by anyone, anywhere.

With much love,
Gerard (Sonny)

Thoughts about life and death

Today is February 5, 2006 and I have just learned of the death of one of my cousins. He was in his early 80's and a wonderful man. He inspired me to write an essay when I was very young about my aspirations to study dentistry, and I know that it pleased him very much.

As with every death of a family member, my thoughts go to the philosophy of life that drives all of us to either promote our own aspirations, or to continue with the life style that has been our "lot in life". We all have, without exception, the ability to continue with doing what we do every day, often referred to as being "in a rut", or to give ourselves what I call a KITA. That, of course, is a noun, but the first word, "kick" is a verb. I'm sure you can figure out the rest of the phrase.

All too often it is so easy to sit back and enjoy the fruits of our labors, reflecting on the good and the bad times, and enjoying the vicarious thrill of times gone by. Or, if we are so inspired (or inclined) we can break away from this lethargy and inspire ourselves to do just a little more.

When someone passes away, if I knew them well, I take on the mantle of the young person sitting in the dance hall who has sat on the sidelines all during the dance, not dancing because of shyness, or whatever, and now it's the time when they're playing the tune for the last dance. I think about the person who has died, and I wonder if they have been sitting on the sidelines of life, waiting for that opportune time to get out there and dance, or if they waited too long and now the last tune has been played and they never "got out there". It is a sad thing to let life go by without taking advantage of the wonders that are available.

Just recently I took out a video tape from the library which is all scenery, much of it taken from a plane or helicopter (my favorite videos) and supported with inspirational music in the background. I'm really not into religious inspirational music, but the Mormon Tabernacle Choir is an exception, and hearing them while watching wonderful scenes of mountains and streams has got to inspire anyone. It makes you appreciate life and inspires me, at least, to see more of what nature has to offer.

Since retirement a few years ago I have come to enjoy the marvels of computers, as well as digital photography, and the two are not only compatible, but are like wine, bread and cheese, - a perfect combination. So, this morning I was entering more pictures into my computer library and started to maximize or improve (we do not like to use the term "enhance" as it suggests manipulation) one of the pictures that I took recently. The location is the dining room in my bunkhouse which is where I entertain my computer and photographic cronies. Since I no longer go to our favorite hunting camp in New Hampshire, the bunkhouse has to do the duty of providing a place for me and my drinking buddies to hang out. I had set up the table for lunch, and it all looked so nice that I took a picture of the scene. I had fun cooking a big batch of chicken cacciatore and penne, and we knocked off a half gallon of my favorite wine, Fortissimo, while we settled the problems of the world. A super way to spend a winter afternoon (if you have to be indoors).