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| Photo: Joseph LoBuono/Words: F LoBuono |
However, considering that the century mark is one worth noting, I feel it important that I share some thoughts with those who knew him and those who might come to a bit after reading this.
My father, Joseph, could be a complex man. He was incredibly gentle in his soul. He loved animals and babies. I've seen few men enjoy (or, were better at) holding an infant more than my he. My father also dotted after his animals, often to my mother's chagrin, feeding them half of his own dinner from his plate! Perhaps, to us, his greatest asset was his ability to express his love for his children. Nothing was more important to him.
But, he also had an intense temper and, if he didn't like someone, the ability to cut them out of his life completely. He was not a vulgar man but I did hear him once say about someone he didn't care for: "if he was on fire, I wouldn't piss on him to put it out!" And, he meant it.
In these, and so many other ways, I resemble my father greatly.
When I think about how many life lessons he imparted to me, there are too many to count. However, there is one story that always come to me when I think of him and the valuable legacy he left me.
It was summer. I must have been about 13. At that time, one of my passions was playing league baseball in my hometown of Fort Lee, NJ. I played for Horizon House, so named for our sponsor; one of the new luxury apartment complexes that where reshaping the town. As I recall, we were not a great team but a decent one and I was their star pitcher. I had little control but could throw hard. So, if I wasn't walking batters I was striking them out.
I had just pitched a complete game in very hot and humid conditions. I remember being totally spent after the game. My father, as was his custom, was at there. In an effort to show his support, he came to as many as he could possibly make. In fact, I think he rather enjoyed it. If my memory serves me correctly, my younger brother, also named Joseph, was with him. After a few congratulatory pats on the back, we all loaded into my father's car for the trip home.
We were waiting at a traffic light a few blocks from the field when someone tried to beat the changing light and broadsided another vehicle. The impact was sudden and violent. It shook me - both literally and figuratively. The driver of the impacted car immediately jumped out and ran to the crushed rear door and ripped it open, revealing a dazed passenger. It appeared to be his son and he was about the same age as me. My father yelled to my brother and I, "STAY HERE!", while he ran to the accident scene.
My brother and I watched wide-eyed as my father approached the 2 men. The man whose vehicle was struck was very large - much bigger than my father. In my mind's eye I see him with red hair and a face angry enough to match the color. He was raging and heading straight for the man who hit him. Now, in contrast to the rampaging redhead, the man in the other car was much older and appeared to be in shock. The much larger man reached him before my father got to the scene and started to grab him by his lapels to drag him out of the car.
I remember being terrified - so much so that I started to hyperventilate. The scene was so violent and was apparently about to escalate when my father reached the potential combatants. As he reached the two men, he grabbed the larger man from behind and pulled him forcibly away from the other man. Then, without hesitation, he got right in the big guy's face and said, "YOU, back off! Get back to your car and take care of your son."
The man towered over my father and was in a fit of rage. I was sure that he would simply toss my father aside and continue attacking the other man. But, much to my surprise, that didn't happen. In fact, the man followed my father's commands completely. Within minutes the situation had been diffused and the police arrived to take control. After giving a statement to the police, my old man walked back to the car as if nothing had happened. I regained my composure and we resumed our journey home without incident.
That was 50 years ago and I remember the details like it was yesterday. My father taught me so many valuable lessons that day: never shirk your responsibility, wherever you may find it. - never be afraid to do the right thing - keep your head about you when everyone else is losing theirs. If you can LIVE these things, you'll be just fine.
Well, I do and I am. Thanks, Dad - you are not forgotten . . .
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