Welcome to the Misadventures of Widowhood blog!

Welcome to my World---Woman, widow, senior citizen seeking to live out my days with a sense of whimsy as I search for inner peace and friendships. Jeez, that sounds like a profile on a dating app and I have zero interest in them, having lost my soul mate of 42 years. Life was good until it wasn't when my husband had a massive stroke and I spent the next 12 1/2 years as his caregiver. This blog has documented the pain and heartache of loss, my dark humor, my sweetest memories and, yes, even my pity parties and finally, moving past it all. And now I’m ready for a new start, in a new location---a continuum care campus in West Michigan, U.S.A. Some people say I have a quirky sense of humor that shows up from time to time in this blog. Others say I make some keen observations about life and growing older. Stick around, read a while. I'm sure we'll have things in common. Your comments are welcome and encouraged. Jean

Saturday, June 16, 2018

Fathers and Grandfathers


In my entire life I’ve never met a man as honorable and honest as my dad. He was a good-natured and soft spoken guy with a clear vision of humanity that included compassion for everyone, in every circumstance. For example, one time my cousin and my brother took Dad to a strip club, hoping to shock my dad for a few laughs and prove how grown up they were now that they were old enough to get into places like that. When my cousin asked Dad what he thought about a woman who’d take her clothes off and dance like that, my dad answered, “She probably has babies at home that need to be fed.” When my cousin told me this story years after it happened he said what started out to be a joke on my dad ended up being a life lesson on learning to walk in other people’s shoes. That was my dad---always caring, always seeing the best in others, always teaching without preaching. 

My dad’s formal education ended in the lower grades as did his association with the Catholic Church. His parents were Italian immigrants and he was the youngest of three kids. He lost his mother in the Great Flu Epidemic of 1918/19 and at age eleven he became a latch-key kid in a coal mining town in southern Illinois where one of his jobs each day was to go to the tavern to fetch a pail of beer for his dad when he came home from working underground picking coal in the mines. At the tavern my dad also played the piano by ear to earn a few coins before he was even old enough to wear long pants but even with that background, he wasn’t much of a drinker. At a party here and there but that was it. He was a good, hard working man who always put his family’s needs first, but he gave Mom credit for them being able to build the financial security my folks enjoyed later in life. 

My grandfather died when I was a toddler but I heard lots of stories about how he’d sit on the porch singing opera and playing the accordion in the evenings. Like my dad, he was also a good-natured and fair-minded man and he allowed my dad to drop out of going to church on Sundays with the rest of the family when a priest picked him up by the seat of his pants and his shirt collar and pretended he was going to throw him into an open door on a pot belly stove to teach him about the fires of hell. My grandfather, though, told my dad he still had to go to church just not to same church so every Sunday dad walked alone to the only other church in town. There, Dad learned that “Jesus loves all the little children of the world, red and yellow, black and white.” And he got to build things with a hammer and nails and he spent the rest of his life teaching himself how to build and remodel things.

My grandfather didn’t want his sons to work in the mines so he devised a plan. He raised potatoes and sold them to the local grocery store owner he had befriended. When he’d saved up enough money to buy a bus ticket he sent my uncle up north to Michigan---still a teenager---to work in the factories and between the two of them they saved up a ‘nest egg’ to move the whole family up north. And that’s how my dad ended up working for a quarter an hour crawling inside of hot machines to pull wood veneer sheets out. Somewhere along his work life, Dad learned how to be a tool and die maker and he was so good at it that the draft board during WWII wouldn’t let him sign up. He was deemed an essential worker in an essential industry. So he spent the entire war working 14-16 hour shifts making patterns and prototypes for airplane parts and munitions. But what I remember most about dad’s working years is when he’d come home from the factory he carried one of those black lunch boxes with the rounded top and he always had a few squares of a Hersey Candy Bar inside for my brother and me. And it just occurred to me why each night I have two squares of dark chocolate and I’m never attempted to eat any more. 

I don’t know how my dad picked up his respect for knowledge and education. Except for the newspaper, he wasn’t a reader yet when I was in college and taking classes in philosophy, world religion and logic we could discuss those topics and he held his own talking about Socrates, Plato, mythical utopian cities and the origins of our values and laws. Life was his teacher, I guess. He’d witnessed Ku Klux Klan hangings while hiding in the woods when he was a kid. He saw the unfairness of the blacks, Italian and Irish getting paid less than whites in the coal mines while they all worked side by side. And I’ll never forget the look of horror and disgust on his face on Bloody Sunday 1963 when the nightly news showed the fire hoses and attack dogs that were turned on the black marchers in Selma, Alabama. I’ll also never forget the look of shear happiness that lit up his face when Tiger Woods won his first PGA in 1999. He was proud of Tiger for breaking the color barrier in a game that dad loved his entire life. Dad was the most fair-minded and ethical person I’ve ever known and I know I got the luck of the draw to have him as my father, my teacher and the person who I’ve most admired and loved my entire life. I hope I made him half as proud as he made me. ©

Mom and Dad on their Honeymoon

45 comments:

  1. Your Dad sounds a lot like mine.

    (That preacher pretending to throw a child on a hot stove .....well, I've often found that religion - any religion - does that. I steer clear of "religious" people.) ~ Libby

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    1. The priest finitely shouldn't have been teaching Sunday school to a bunch of kids!

      Glad you had a great dad, too.

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  2. What an amazing tribute. You were so blessed to have that man as your father.

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    1. I know, and he had a great sense of humor too, I forgot to mention that.

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  3. I should've added: Dad was a good man: principled, ethical, non-discriminatory. He believed in God and lived his life accordingly, but he didn't believe in the external trappings/motions of religion. The relatives who were very religious (and hypocritical) didn't quite like that. ~ Libby

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    1. Isn't it funny how some people who go to church regularly can't appreciate a truly principled person when they know one. I've always had a resentment of people who think if you just say the words, "I accept Jesus as my savior" that's all it takes to be a human being worthy of heaven. Don't get me started. LOL

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    2. Jean, regarding your response to Libby: I say this ALL THE TIME. Good to know someone else feels this way. Sometimes I feel like an island in a sea of "others" Jackie

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    3. Thank you for saying that so I know that I'M not alone in thinking this!

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    4. Jacqueline...I know just how you feel. Luckily I have found a few friends that think like me, but I feel surrounded often by "others". I'm in a smaller southern town in Florida, , which might explain.

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    5. Mary, I'm in a very large northern town and have that same 'surrounded' feeling.

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    6. I currently live in the Augusta GA area. Jean, I plan to go back to the beginning of your blog and read it from there. How can I find the blog about your dog? I have lived in Tennessee, Indiana, Iowa and Georgia - in small towns and large metro areas. Mary, I agree it is important to find at least a few friends that think the same way. Glad to meet all of you! Jackie

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    7. To find my dog's blog (which I don't add to anymore) click on the tab at the top of this pages where it says, "Memories." Then scroll down to the link: "Levi my dog's blog." To start at the beginning of this widow blog there is a '1st blog post' tab at the top right, and on Lev's blog there is a link near the top of the left side. When you finish reading a page worth of posts look at the bottom for a link to 'newer posts'. Glad to meet you, too!

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    8. Thanks Jean. I look forward to reading about Levi (love the name) Jackie

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  4. I love that pic of your mom and dad. This is a lovely tribute to your dad. I'm sure he would be happy to be remembered as fair-minded, compassionate and ethical. You were indeed a lucky girl.

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    1. Don't I know it.

      That's my favorite photo of them as a couple.

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  5. This is a lovely, loving tribute to your father. You look so very much like him.

    In many, many ways, this is parallels my own father's story.

    I'm sure your dad would be very proud of your life story as well.

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    1. In looks I do take after my dad more than my mom. But I wish I had had my mom's skin. It was like porcelain.

      Sounds like you had a good dad as well. I've never written about mine in a blog before because the 1,000 word quota is not enough, I have too many examples to punctuate his good qualities.

      Both my parents were very proud that I went to college, when never of them made it out of grammar school. Although I didn't graduate from college until my 40s dad was there to see it and he said he'd never seen me any happier than I was that day. And I was.

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  6. What a loving tribute. It occurs to me that even an imperfect father is better than none. Far too many kids are growing up without a father of any sort these days, let alone the wonderful ones we had. Perhaps if that could change, certain issues in our society could change, too.

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    1. Some people used to call my dad the pied piper at the cottage because he was always building or fixing something and kids would tag along. He'd explain what he was doing and had the patience for their questions.

      Totally agree with your comment. Obama is involved in a group that promotes fathers volunteering in youth activities in their communities. It all helps.

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  7. I thoroughly enjoy this blog Jean. It's amazing how great parents did in their lives. My dad came from a small place in the mountains of Italy, Roccamorice. They didn't have much but my grandmother knew how to give the family a good meal. When they came to Canada my dad lived in Quebec for awhile and then lived in Amherstburg, Ontario. My dad only went up to grade 8 but he was a very intelligent man. He worked at Brunner Mond, moved up to eventually manager and then the man in charge of an entire company. He told me once that he had to buy machines that were up 5 million dollars. He worked hard for our family and he enjoyed life. He had a place in Sarasoto, Florida. This man from Roccomarice Italy, he owned horses for awhile and owned a great deal of things but he never forgot where he came from and made sure that we understand what we had and where it came from. When I graduated from unniversity he was so proud of me and when I become a teacher he was once again so proud of me. Well I will tell you right now, I was very proud of my dad. He's gone now but I still miss him a great deal, my dad, Francisco ( Frank ) Pietrangelo.
    See what you did Jean? With your loving blog about your dad and grandfather I opened up to my dad. Thank you my friend. I guess we were very lucky to have wonderful, caring and loving fathers. See ya.

    Cruisin Paul

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    1. My grandfather came from the northern part of Italy but also in the mountains. My grandmother lived closer to your dad's birth home but on the opposite coast. Parents and grandparents from the era yours and mine lived in sure were hard working people---all immigrants worked hard to get ahead, didn't they. My grandfather had only his clothes in a suitcase when he got to this country. All my Italian uncles and aunts were such happy, good-natured people and it sounds like your dad was exactly the same way.

      Thanks for sharing your "dad" story with Father's Day coming. Do Canadians celebrate that as a holiday up there?

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    2. Yes and tomorrow morning I'm going to the mausoleum see spend some time and sit there to talk with dad. He will listen to me and I sure that in some way, he'll answer me. See ya Jean

      Cruisin Paul

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  8. Beautiful tribute. I really never knew my grandfathers, as I was a toddler when they died. My Dad was a honest, ethical good man, but being raised in the South, he did have predjudice "issues" of which I wish was not so.

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    1. We are all products of our times and circumstances. Like Oprah says, "When we know better we do better."

      I never knew my grandparents either except through the memories told by others. It was a big longing when I was growing up and had grandparents-envy.

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  9. Your tribute is moving and I have tears in my eyes. When I am most bereft about the awfulness in the world, I remind myself there are many good, honest, ethical, loving people too, who are living their lives with integrity and passing that on to their kids. Your dad was one of those and obviously passed his kindness, curiosity, and work ethic on to you. Good on him....and on you for sharing your lovely self with us.

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    1. Awwwww... Sweet! When I look at the world in our Trump era I'm disheartened that so many people seem to have forgotten that we are a country of immigrants, and within one generation removed their children became part of the great melting pot. When did we lose that patience and understanding of wanting to make a better life for their kids?

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  10. Very nice tribute Jean, really enjoyed reading it.

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    1. I hope so! It was hard to edit down all the things I could have written about my dad. I still miss him.

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  11. What a wonderful memorial! So glad you shared with us.

    Even before the Trump era, the USA had limits on who could come here. I have two genious, productive acquaintances we were in Portland on student visas. When they applied to stay for permanent status they were denied! They have sinced moved to Canada and started a business. A very big loss for our country ... they are providing jobs for many (world wide), give back to their community (Vancouver, BC) and just added a daughter to their lives.

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    1. We definitely need Congress to take up the topic of immigration and quit passing the buck from one year to another.

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  12. I am so glad that I recently started to follow your blog. We think alike. Great post! Jackie

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    1. Welcome! I'm always glad when a new reader comments. I see from your profile page that you blogged a year of your dog's life. I did that with Levi too.

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  13. Lovely tribute to your Dad and Grandfather. You’re quite fortunate to have had them in your life. I was born late in my mother’s life after my grandfathers were gone. I think it was fairly common for men’s education to end after completing eighth grade in those generations. Your Dad clearly was one of those people who didn’t stop learning just because he wasn’t in a school,somewhere.

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    1. Thank you! My dad didn't make it any where neither the eight grade. I don't remember exactly without looking it up but it was 4th or 5th grade. But he definitely had a good mind for learning.

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  14. What a wonderful man. His story would make a great book and certainly made an interesting blog post.

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    1. I have written a family history book where I interviewed my dad about his memories so a lot of his words are down in writing and still on cassette tapes. I think if others interviewed their dads with a list of questions like I did they'd be surprised what they'd learn. Our parents truly were a great generation.

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  15. What a beautiful tribute to your father and grandfather! You are indeed fortunate to have had these men in your life. Thanks for sharing, Jean!

    Deb

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  16. Yes--our parents truly were the Greatest Generation.
    They started out with nothing and ended up with something and seemed to be happy with the lives. My Daddy never signed a contract with anyone who worked for him or he for them. His handshake was his word

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    1. So true. And they went through hard times with Great Depression, WWII and the Korean War.

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  17. Your dad sounds like one of the most remarkable people and how lucky you were to have this man in your life as a model. There are so many ways he could have gone wrong and I think his success, as you implied, was due in part to some of his grandfather's decisions. So, good stock in your family. And a beautiful post.

    Thanks for coming by mine. I always appreciate your visits and nice words!

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    1. It's amazing to me the opportunities immigrants like my grandfather gave to his kids when they came here with basically just the change of clothing. He was so grateful and proud to become an American citizen.

      I love your blog, reminds me of side of my younger self.

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  18. Om my, Jean, my father was also a tool and die maker who got excused from military service in WW2 because he was working on essential war production (making jet engines for military aircraft). When he came home from work each day and opened his black metal lunchbox, what fell out was a rolled up newspaper which he bought from a street vendor every day on the way to work. I never saw him read a book, but he read every word of two newspapers each day. -Jean P.

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    1. Did your dad make paper hats out of newspaper to wear at work? My dad did and I think it was common where he worked. He'd make them each night for the next day.

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