A few kind words about my dad in the Boston Globe

The guy in the middle is Albert John Blasi, who was on a troop ship heading to occupied Germany

http://www.bostonglobe.com/metro/obituaries/2014/11/26/blasi-longtime-revere-high-baseball-coach-formerly-led-state-coaches-association/xa7uUxaeyfa1jtsHodQ3DK/story.html

AUBURN, Maine — I will be spending Thanksgiving with my family in Massachusetts. But when I look to my right after we sit down to eat, my dad won't be in the parlor with a plate of food in one hand and a remote in the other watching a football game at my sister's home.

His absence will be conspicuous. He was the life of the holidays and was usually surrounded by his family.

Losing a mom or dad just before the holidays is like getting sucker punched in a street fight. It hurts like hell and the pain never disappears. And after you get walloped, you want to take your anger out on the guy who just delivered the knuckle sandwich.

But when you look at your immediate family and realize you have to soldier on without your parents, you have no choice but to carry on. Nature works like that, but that doesn't mean we have to agree with the laws of this strange universe.

Today, my father received another deserved tribute. Boston Globe reporter Marvin Pave, a talented writer with a kind heart, wrote a great piece about a man who gave so much to his country, community and family. He was adored by rival coaches and his players who would have walked through fire to play for him.

That kind of dedication and respect is earned by human beings who have genuine empathy and integrity. My dad demonstrated both qualities and wasn't a narcissist who believed the world revolved around him.

So if you've got a minute, check the above link to Boston.com and read a well-written piece about guy who gave a damn about the right things in our short lives.

Talking turkey about high school football

"Family traditions counter alienation and confusion. They help us define who we are; they provide something steady, reliable and safe in a confusing world." 

                                                              - Susan Lieberman

AUBURN, Maine — High school football was the main course on the Thanksgiving Day menu.

For some reason, the 900-course meal at our grandmother's house took a back seat until we froze our buttocks off watching two high schools butt heads in the early morning cold. 

The game was a social event for citizens who were just getting warmed up for turkey, stuffing and grammy's homemade apple pie.

But the game came first before all good citizens of Revere would indulge at the dinner table.

That was a tradition that lasted for decades. Filling our bellies with turkey was second to watching Revere and Winthrop slap each other around on the field.

The outcome of those two coastal communities slugging it out on the gridiron could be a real sore spot at the dinner table in the afternoon. 

I was a spectator and a participant during those Turkey Day games. I have suffered frostbite on snow-covered fields watching the Patriots roll around in the mud.

There is only one Turkey Day game played in Maine and that is between Portland and Deering. But in my native state of Massachusetts, football games are played across the Bay State.

Game day, 10 a.m.

Thursday mornings began with an 8 a.m., wake-up call from my frantic father — a sports fanatic who coached high school baseball for over 40 years.  You can find him on the couch with his face buried in the sports pages each morning.

Then came a round of phone calls to see who would be attending the game. We usually traveled with the Marras. Robert Marra was a music teacher, classical violinist and a man who studied the scoreboard page like a sheet from Mozart's music.

We piled into one car and sped off to the game. The crowds were huge. There were no distractions like cell phones. Nobody looked down but up at a game played by a bunch of tough kids who represented their community.

My dad and Mr. Marra would eventually unite with athletic director Silvio Cella, a former RHS football coach who ran his program like a U.S. Marine because he was a Marine who served in the Pacific during World War II.  All three men served their country. Cella and Marra both fought in World War II and my dad served during the occupation of Germany.

I played for coach Cella for three years. He was tough, but football is rough game, and if you don't enjoy being hit or knocking the other the guy to the ground, then play a more civilized sport like baseball or golf.

For two hours, we stood in the cold. The Patriots and Vikings traded blows before we finally began thinking about a warm meal and a hot cup of coffee

Time has the final say

I can't remember the last time my father and I attended a Revere football game. He is now 80 years old and he fighting his own battle with Alzheimer's.  

The disease is winning and the tradition of attending a turkey day game has vanished along with so many people I have loved.

All traditions are swept away by time, and there is not a damn thing any one of us can do about it.

Cronus (Titan god of time) always comes out on top.

I believe it was about 10 years ago when my father and I stopped going to the Turkey Day games. Mr. Marra and Mr. Cella sadly are no longer with us. And the loss our mother has slowed us all down.

But I know if I dwell in the past, I will lose the future, and that future is my son and wife.

No matter what lies ahead, I still have them, and many of my immediate family members, and that is helluva a lot to be thankful on this day.

Can't thank them enough

Mom and son getting ready for Halloween.

"To grow old is to lose everything," 

- the opening line to a poem called "Affirmation," which was written 

by poet Donald Hall

AUBURN, Mass. — Money is tight, the world is a damn mess, our leaders don't know what day it is, and there is a pile of snow on my front lawn that is really pissing me off, and yet, I do have a lot to be thankful for as I pass the peas and gnaw on a turkey leg this Thanksgiving.

And while Mother Nature's hit-and-run tactics are befuddling and the cold is closing in, I am lucky there will be a hot meal on the table and my healthy son and wife will be seated next me as we enjoy my sister's fine cooking and the company of her wonderful children.

I am older and I have lost a handful people along the way, and the holidays have a way of triggering those strong and sad memories of family members and friends who will not be present at our feast this Thanksgiving.

And it really hurts, especially since Terri and I buried our mothers last year. That pain never goes away, but when I see my wife and son laughing and enjoying good food, it makes me realize why I am still here, and I don't plan on going anywhere.

For years, my dad and I would spend Thanksgiving mornings watching Revere and Winthrop knock heads on the gridiron while my mom was multi-tasking over a hot stove long before anyone knew what the hell multi-tasking was. She was cooking turkey, potatoes, carrots and stuffing while father and son were freezing their butts off at Paul Revere Stadium.

I am older now and now I am doing the cooking. My dad and I no longer attend Thanksgiving Day football games because he is older. My mother is gone.

I miss those moments and those people who meant so much to me.

But I know I am helpless when the Grim Reaper snatches another friend or relative from this life.

For years, there were nearly 15 relatives living next to my house. It was like one giant block party on McClure Street during the holidays. Each Thanksgiving or Christmas Eve, I would move from house to house, enjoying my grandmother's or aunts' culinary delights and making sure I shared a glass of wine at each stop.

Like me, the street has changed and all I have are fond memories. Those homes are no longer occupied by my grandmother, Aunt Minnie, B.J. and Eddie Murano, and the Grossos. 

Before Anthony came along, my wife and I excitedly packed up the car and headed from Maine to Massachusetts to see my relatives during the holidays. The aunts would hand Terri small gifts while I sampled the wine and food and listened to my uncle, who was a top-notch pilot during World War II and Korea, talk about his combat experiences.

But I am older now and they are a part of my past. I understand change is inevitable, but there is pain that comes with change.

But one thing that will never change is my love and appreciation for my wife and son, and immediate family.

And they are the reasons why I give thanks on this day.