HAPPY FATHER'S DAY DAD!
And to all Fathers too... especially those who put their families first!
I'm a very lucky son and grandson because I have a good father and I also had good grandfathers and uncles, who placed their family first in their life! These men always loved me and took care of me. This is my father's story and some images of him, also of my grandfathers, and my uncle Francesco Spina. I have many other uncles in Italy, but unfortunately, I don't have pictures of them. This blog honors and celebrate my dad, Giovanni Battista Lo Piccolo, and other great fathers in my family, and a good friend in heaven, "Peppe", Giuseppe Viglione.
Fathers are
special people because
they are the pillars, the foundation, support and protection of the family. Fathers have a big effect on their children and their families. Their good example, their work,
their sacrifices and their unconditional love, is essential in helping children grow. Loving father's, like mothers, also love unconditionally, without conditions, or strings attached-
they do not ask for anything in return. Good fathers, although sometime may be a little rash and/or tough, always love their children, no matter what they
do and/or how they behave. Fathers are one of tho]e most important beings God has ever
created!
In this post I'd like to share my father's life because my dad, like all good dads, is an amazing person; he is one of my heroes, the one I love, respect and admire. This post is dedicated to him; for all the good things he has provided me and for his constant attention, affection, presence and love in my life. Thank you dad! For everything! I couldn't be here today without you!
ESSENTIAL
QUESTIONS (EQs) For reflection and discussion
1.
What are fathers for you?
2.
What do fathers do for us?
3.
What does/did your father do/did
for you?
4.
Why do/did we love them so much?
5.
Can you describe your dad?
6.
What did your dad teach you?
7.
Would you share a story
about your dad?
8.
What would you tell your
father if he was alive?
9.
How will you celebrate Father’s
Day?
11. Do you celebrate
Father’s day in your country? How do you
celebrate it?
Image 1.
My father in NY City, when he worked in construction. Circa 1970.
Image 2. My dad with my mom, in their short stay in NY City. Circa 1970.
3. My paternal grandfather Ottavio. He died young and I never met him.
4 & 5. My maternal grandfather, Francesco Vitale. He was a farmer, and I often went to the countryside, to his land, to help him pick olives, grapes, nuts, figs, plums, cherries, and other Sicilian delicacies! But I didn't like it! I'd rather stay in town and play with my friends!
6. My parents, on their wedding day, circa 1955-56.
7. From L-R; my dad, me, my sister Ina and brother Frank, in Astoria Queens, NY, circa 1974-76.
8. Our good friend, Peppe, Giuseppe Viglione, with my son Gianni.
9. My uncle Francesco Spina, circa 1950. I never met him. he died in a construction accident in NY City.
My Father's Life.
1. My father's name is G. Battista Lo Piccolo. He was born in 1932. His father's name was Ottavio (I carry my paternal grandfather's name- my father’s father). I never met him because he died when my dad was 8 years old. Grandpa Ottavio was 55 years old when he passed away. He worked in Palermo as a spazzino, a street sweeper. His job was considered a good one at the time because he was employed by City Hall. His death was either an accident. Dad tells me that grandpa’s friends put salt in his wine while they were out for a drink. He got sick and he passed away. My mother’s father, grandpa was called Cicco (his Sicilian name), his real name was Francesco- he is deceased was a farmer, and my grandma, Girolama (Mummina), also deceased was a housewife. They had six children, 4 sisters; my mom Salvatrice (Turidda), my aunts Santina, Sarina and Maria. My uncles names are Benedetti (Nitto), and Salvatore (Toto’). All of them are alive and live in Sicily.
2. At the time of grandpa‘s death dad lived with his three older sisters, Grazia, Sarina, and Vita, his mother, and his mother’s sister, zia Rosa, who was widowed. Since dad was the only boy in his family, he had to go to work and support his family. In fact, the same day that my grandfather Ottavio died, his brother, my father’s uncle Nitto, (Ben, short for Benedetto), who was my grandfather’s brother, told my dad that he had to take care of his the family, hence he had to go to work and support his family. So my dad started working outside of Torretta, in farm owned by Toto’ Mignano. This man grew oranges, lemons and vegetables in the locality of Locopadrone. The valley at the bottom of Torretta. There, my father picked vegetables (broccoli, escarole, salads, etc), brought them to Torretta and distributed them to the shop owners. By the age of 12 he also went into town to collect manure (horse/cow poop) from the town’s barns and brought it down to Mignano’s farm. He loaded it onto a mule. But that mule was a little crazy, and in fact, several times it ran away from him. She, the mule, was a little wild and was never totally domesticated and obedient. She was afraid of cars and sudden noises. So she often took off on him! Poor dad! Running though town to catch the crazy mule!
3. During WWII times were even tougher for my parents in Sicily. Food, money and jobs were scarce (not enough, little) and things got worse. Dad tells me that he had no shoes and was constantly hungry. To survive he ate any edible plants/fruits he could find in the country. One time he sneaked (went without being seen) into a German’s soldiers camp to steal some food. He found some bread and luckily wasn’t caught. My mother didn’t suffer as much as my dad because her dad, my grandpa Cicco, was a farmer and had land, on which he grew wheat, tomatoes, olives, nuts, beans, and fruits like figs, cherries and nespole (a Sicilian fruit, a little bigger than a walnut, orange/yellow in color when ripe, and sweet and juicy. These fruits also grow in Texas. I picked once in San Antonio, at the US Air Force Training Center).
10. My dad with his 2nd wife, Maria Pia.
11. With dad in the backyard, Astoria, Queens, NY City, Circa 1980.
11.
With my family, on military duty, at hour house, in the backyard, Astoria, Queens, NY City, Circa 1980.Circa 1982.
4. At the age of 17, my dad he went to work for Udilena, a lad big owner. Udilena had a large farm, in the flat lands just below Torretta, where he grew olives, almonds, oranges and lemons. Dad worked with Udilena’s father, who took him under his care. He was his assistant, and did lighter work for Udilena’s dad, instead of working the ground like most of Udilena’s workers. Dad harvested (picked) olives, grapes, and wheat and brought them to the trappeto or frantoio, the place where the olives were smashed, squeezed and turned into olive oil.
5. At the age of 20 years old dad became engaged with my mom, Salvatrice Vitale, my mother. She was 16 when they began courting. Which, at that time in Sicily, it meant that you coudn't get to close to your girl- you were allowed only to look at each other from a distance. My dad married her when she was 20 and my dad 24. Dad tells me that my grandfather, Ciccio (my maternal/mom’s father) didn’t approve of him (of my dad) because grandpa didn’t know anything about him. However, after he found out that my dad was an honest hard worker, who had been working since the young age of 8, grandpa consented, he agreed to let my mom marry him.
6. In 1956 my father’s aunt, Maria, (my dad's father’s sister), came to Torretta from the USA, for the occasion of my parents’ wedding. Aunt Maria convinced my dad to come to the USA, so he could earn (make) more money, since he wasn't making enough to support the family by himself. In fact, my mother worked as a tailor for a woman in town, and dad worked in a flower farm near Palermo, in an area called Valdese. There he worked with tulips, roses, gladiolas, etc. In June 6, 1957 I was born.
7. However, in August of 1959 my dad finally got a visa to migrate to the US and join his aunt Maria. He took the ship Saturnia, in Palermo, and crossed the Atlantic for 10 days to get to New York. There he lived with aunt Maria in Staten Island, a suburb of New York City, a place where many Italian immigrants still live to this day. To pay for his trip and get the visa dad borrowed money from several paesanis, town folks (people from our home town in Sicily). After 6 month he returned back to Italy, and he went back to work in Palermo, in the construction business. But he still wanted to go back to the USA because he wasn’t happy with his pay- he didn’t make enough money. Instead he got a working contract and migrated (went) to Switzerland. He worked there 6 months and tried to get a visa to go to the USA, but they refused it. He returned to Italy, and migrated to Canada for 18 months. He returned to Italy again, and finally got his visa to go to the USA. He worked in the US for 6 months. My sister Ina was born at this time, in 1960. Again, dad came back to Italy in the early 60’s to meet his little daughter. So he went back to work in Palermo, but again he departed (left) for the USA in the mid 60’s. In New York he worked in construction for about 18 months. Once again, he returned to Italy, and saw the birth of his youngest son, my brother Frank, in 1962.
8. Toward the end of the 70’s my dad migrated again to the USA, however, this time he was not alone - he took my mom with him. But mom stayed in the USA for about 3 months. She had a job with a tailor, since she was a seamstress, she knew how to make clothes, because as a teen she attended a course to make clothes in Torretta. However, mom stopped going to work because she felt too lonely and sad, and she stayed home all day. Dad went to work from 7 am to 4 pm in construction, then instead of going home he reported to another job, and worked there until midnight. By the time he would get home it was around 1-2 in the morning. Mom got depressed; too lonely and sad, so dad sent her back to Italy. But she returned to Italy depressed. She didn’t want to eat and wanted to die. So my dad had no choice but to return to Italy and take care of mom. It at the end of the 70’s mom’s condition got worse. One day she swallowed a whole container of headache pills. She was taken to the the hospital (Villa Sofia, in Palermo). Several weeks later she passed away. She suffered an internal hemorrhage (inside bleeding) and died the 25th of March, 1971. At that time, I was 13- at that age it was hard for me to comprehend (understand) that my mother would be gone for ever. I was depressed, in fact for about 4 months I didn’t play soccer with my friends, which was my favorite daily activity. I was very sad and often wondered (thought) why God had taken her so soon. However, I must admit, that I was never angry at God- hurt/confused yes, but not resentful toward him. I think I survived the blow of loosimg mom because of the love/affection I got from my grandparents, my aunts, my uncles and my many cousins.
9. In the summer of 1971 dad went back to the USA because he couldn’t bare living in our house with us without mom. He went back to work in construction and injured his back and had to stop working. In 1974 he met an Italian woman, Maria Pia Masci, who worked as a chef for Italian diplomats in New York. In the summer of ‘74 they got married in a catholic church on Park Avenue. Then in October they went to Italy and brought us (me, my brother Frank and my sister Ina) to New York City. Since dad couldn’t work in construction any longer, he sometimes worked with Maria Pia. He served dinner and cocktail parties at the Italian consulate on Park Avenue. After several years Maria Pia started working for an Italian family, and got dad a job with this family as driver and sometimes as butler. He drove the husband to work, the children to school and the wife shopping. To make more money and help the family dad also worked as a butler for other families because his compensation check was only $200 per week. My dad and step-mom, Maria Pia, retired and returned to Italy in 1984.
10. Some of my Dad’s Comical Work Events at Work.
One day while working at the house of his boss as a butler and chauffer he was told by the wife’s boss to raise the heat in the house. He did, and while some painters were painting the kitchen (the owner’s son-in-law, Mr. C), called dad and yelled at him for raising the heat. My dad just smiled at him and walked away. The next morning, after Mr. C got up and went into the kitchen, looked at the new painting job and said; they’re doing a nice job. Then he went next room, the service room, where dad had just finished vacuuming. Mr. C turned to dad and said in Italian:
Ricordati che il sorriso sotto i baffi non me l’ha fatto mai nessuno!” (Remember, no one has ever laughed behind my back!).
Dad replied in Italian:
“Questa mattina si e’ alzato con il culo storto!”
(Did you get up with your ass on the wrong side of the bed!).
Se non se ne va’ gli rompo questo tubo (dall’uminio dell’aspira polvere) sulla testa!"
(If you don’t get out of here I’ll crack your head with this pipe!).
Mr. C got scared and ran away, because dad was chasing after him!
Mr. C ran through the kitchen, passed by the studio and wound up at the other side of the huge apartment. His wife saw him and said:
“L’hai trovato l’osso duro!” (You’ve found a tough cookie!)
At that point dad stopped chasing him and went back to the service room.
The following day, the event was forgotten - Mr. C was cordial (kind/polite), as if nothing had happened!
11. Mr. C was rude to dad. When dad drove him around New York City. Although Mr. C was married, he was a playboy! A skirt chaser! Someone who enjoyed having sex with many women. In fact, he often, had lunch with friends, and had affairs (sex) with some lose women (who have many sexual partners). So my dad had to wait in Mr. C’s Mercedes while Mr. C fooled around (played, enjoyed himself) with his girlfriends. Dad did this for hours at times, and he couldn’t get a bite to eat! Because if he walked away, to get some food, the police would tow (take) away the Mercedes and give him a ticket (a fine) for being illegally parked. Dad couldn’t afford to risk being fired because he’d have a hard time finding another decent paying job. So he had to put up (take) with Mr. C’s nasty (bad) behavior (words/actions/attitude). In fact, Mr. C was so inconsiderate (unkind, not pleasant)- he often complained (to dad) that he smelled food in his Mercedes. So he forbade dad not to bring any food to eat in his car. Dad would come home in the evening and be frustrated (upset) and humiliated (hurt, offended) about these events. I felt sorry for him. He told us, me and my two siblings, my younger brother/sister:
"Andate a scuola cosi' non dovrete lavorare per tipi come quello!" “Go to college so you don’t have to put up with men like him!”
12. Another time Mr. C left dad alone at La Guardia Airport, in Queens (NY City), at around 12 am and told him to go home. At that time of the night dad had to walk home to Astoria, for half an hour because he couldn’t find a taxi.
13. Then, one day I came home on military leave from the US Air Force, Mr. C. gave my dad permission to leave work earlier on that day, at 5 pm. But, later after my dad went home, he changed his mind, called him at home and asked him why he had left early. Dad said to him: You gave me the OK, remember? The following morning, at around 9 am Mr. C. told him to get the Mercedes ready, but was pacing back and fourth and said:
You left early last night, but you can’t leave until I tell you to! Dad replied in Italian:
Per conto mio quello che dice lei e’ sbagliato perche’ i nostri patti sono che io lavoro per lei fino alle 5pm.
(In my opinion you’re wrong, because we agreed that I’d work for until 5pm.).
But Mr. C replied: Se ti conviene ci stai se no te ne vai.
(If you don’t find it convenient you can leave!).
14. At that point, dad lost his temper, threw the keys at him, was about to grab him and possibly punch and/or slap him (he deserved it!), but his butler, Mr. Antonio, prevented (stopped) dad from grabbing him. That’s when dad decided to leave, before he’d (would) do something he’d later regret (be sorry for). So he left and went home. However, as soon as he got home, the phone rang and someone asked him:
“Why did you leave?”
Dad replied:
I have a house here in the USA, and no one can throw me out, and tell Mr. C that tomorrow at 4 pm I’ll meet him at his office on Park Avenue because I want to speak to him.
The secretary called Mr. C, but he locked himself in his office, because he was afraid my dad might beat him up! The next day, when my dad showed up at his office, Mr. C had calmed down, and wasn’t afraid to meet with dad. So, this time he was very cordial (nice) and invited my dad to sit down.
15. Mr. C said to dad: So, what’s happening why do you want to speak to me?
Dad said: How long have you been here in the USA? Four years, he said. Well, in four years I’ve worked for you and you’ve never paid my overtime!
Mr. C replied: So what should I do?
Dad replied: You owe me 12 thousand dollars!
Why? Mr. C said.
Dad: If you don‘t give them to me I‘ll know what to do.
Mr. C: Ok, from man to man I’ll give you 6 thousand.
Mr. C extended his hand to dad and they shook hands in agreement. He then called his secretary and asked her to write dad a check. They said good by with a kiss (on the cheek, this is typical/normal for some Italians) and he went home to Astoria.
16. Several years later Mr. C’s secretary called him and asked him to come back to work for Mr. C, but dad refused. He retired and returned back to Italy in 1984 with my step mother Maria Pia. Unfortunately, she also passed away the 17th of July, in 1994.
Dad didn’t like living alone, so he remarried for the 3rd time. He married Giuseppina Giammanco, who was also a widow (her husband also died). She too died on 31st of August, 2008.
17. My dad has not had an easy and lucky life, but he has had many blessings (good things in his life). He worked very hard since his childhood, and as an adult he was not lucky with his marriages because he lost three wives. However, dad's blessings have been his health man, his strength and persistence in not giving up and provided for his family at all times, although he had often migrated, and didn't see his children grow up. Dad's negative sides are his short temper, and sometimes being bossy and rude, but he has a good and generous heart. He always gives and shares with his children. When we are with him he always pays for everything. And he’ll be offended if we do! My dad is also dependable - he has always kept his words. He taught me the things I needed to know so I can lead a better life. He taught me the value of hard work and education, and of being respectful to every one I encounter. This is something I always remember and will never forget what he told me when I began dating in my 20s. He said this to me, when I was about to go on my 1st date:
"Figlio mio tratta a tutte le donne come trattersti a tua sorella.
"Son, treat all girls as you would treat your sister.”
Is my dad perfect? Of course not! But that’s not the most important thing for me. What matters the most is that my dad cares about his family, about me, my sister and my brother. So he is the best dad in the world because he indeed loves me and my family too. God bless you dad! May you have a happy and healthy long life!
21. My dad is now 86, and he retired (not working) and living in Italy, a few miles from my sister Ina. I saw him the summer of 2018. I hope to see him more often when I retire from my full time job- God willing in several years. My dad often goes to my sister’s house and has dinner with her and her children on Sunday. Since he is retired he spends his time tending (taking care) his garden, his house, visiting his sister Vita, who also was a widow and used to lives alone outside of Palermo, which is about 15 miles from dad’s house. But she passed away in 2019. He used to take care of her because she was old and ill (sick), she had dementia- she would forget things. That is why she has a woman who took care of her 24/7 (all the time; 24 hours/day, 7 days a week). Dad also goes to the social club in Torretta, where he meets his best friends, u zu’ Toto’ (Mr. Sal Di Maggio), and u zu' Toto' Intravaia. There they plays cards, talk and socialize with other friends of his own age.
I call my dad on the phone every other week or so, to check on him and see how he’s doing. He also comes to visit us here in the USA, almost every summer.. he stays with me for a few weeks and then he goes to my brothers, and stays there with his family for a few more weeks. I miss him and I wished that I lived closer to him, but my job and family is here in the USA now.
From: My Parents. A Biography by Ottavio Lo Piccolo (c) 2013.
I dedicate this post to my uncle: Toto' Vitale, my mother's youngest brother, who passed away last year (2017). He was a loving father and uncle.
