Recovered family movie triggers trail of tears

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AUBURN — Trails to our parents’ distant past can often be found in damp basements and cluttered closets of their homes.

If you follow these disappearing paths, sometimes you get lucky and unearth something they never told you about from their past.

When my father died, the depressing obligation of cleaning out his home fell to his offspring.

Rummaging through my parents’ personal belongings made me feel like a cat burglar trying to get his hands on jewelry and credit cards. The grief you are feeling rises exponentially
when you throw out or donate your parents’ personal items.

There were several boxes stuffed with pictures of their lives frozen in black-and-white and color stills.

I became the designated the caretaker of our family’s photographs. There were hundreds of photos of McClure Street, the Blizzard of 1978, Waterford, Penn., and the Tall Ships sailing into Boston during the nation’s bicentennial in July 1976. 

We recorded the events of our lives with an old Polaroid camera.

When I began sifting through the pictures, we discovered about 20 feet of eight-millimeter film in a small box. My mother’s uncle, Rocco Conte, shot the film in 1958. It was a mystery for my son and me, but there it was, sitting in a box in my parents’ home for 58 years.

We tried to see what was on the reel, but it was impossible to make out all the images. A couple of weeks ago, I suggested we leave it to the professionals and we took it to a business where they transfer millimeter film to DVD.

After all, who still owns a projector! 

Photo Finish transferred the film to DVD in just two weeks. 

We picked up four copies, rushed home and shoved one of the discs into the DVD player.

The 2:59 second film was footage of their 1958 wedding in living color. I sat still, my eyes widened before they filled with a stream of tears. My wife and I watched it over and over, and through our watery eyes, we marveled at the silent, color images of the wedding. 

It was a cinematic glimpse of my Italian heritage and the relatives and friends who are no longer here.

Why didn't they tell us there was film! I could have made this for them a decade ago.

It took three minutes to transform me into an emotional train wreck and resurrect the grief I felt when I buried my dad with full military honors in November 2014.

I watched my smiling mom and her pristine white dress enter the church. Our young and handsome Italian father had a wide grin on his face as the crowd began throwing rice at the newlyweds.

The film was like a silent movie and the key actors were my mom and dad. I saw my grandmother, my uncle Rock, Carol and other people who have passed into eternity.

Watching those long lost images of the their past made me realize their absence in our lives still hurts like hell.

Those feelings of loss never go away and watching them drive away in the film to a honeymoon in Canada snapped my heavy heart in two.

But those images of my parents were worth a good cry and it won’t be the last time I shed a tear when I watch this must-see rare film of my parents in the prime of their lives.

A family affair and a city that remains strong

"The family is a haven in a heartless world." 

Attributed to Christopher Lasch

REVERE, Mass. — I was raised on this beach. Time and weather has changed its appearance, but its sandy shores will always be remembered as my playground during the summers of my youth.

For years, my mother whispered obscenities under her breath as my father navigated our big-ass Buick down a clogged Revere Street on steamy summer days.

If my family didn't leave early, we endured a 20-minute ride through stop-and-go traffic. We didn't have air conditioning in the car. The heat was stifling in our oven-baked automobile. It was a short journey through hell.

Growing up in a coastal community and bathing in the chilly waters of the Atlantic was worth running the gauntlet to spend a day at Revere Beach.

Last weekend, we walked on the warm sand and ignored a chilly sea breeze at America's first public beach. Everybody who is anybody was out and about, and there seemed to be a sense of relief on the streets. People were cordial and the bright sun contributed to my good mood. A couple of weeks have passed since the Boston Marathon bombings. The confusion and fear has subsided despite the ongoing investigation into the attacks.

My father's struggle

There were three important reasons why I visited Revere. We threw a small celebration for one of the U.S. Navy's finest — my niece, who married a Navy guy from the great state of Missouri. It was a fine, sunny cool day on the deck of my sister's home. The Boston skyline is clearly visible from her home. It was an opportunity to meet the in-laws, who also happen to be nice people, too. There was a buffet of Chinese food for well-wishers.

I also spent quality time with my dad who is trying to stay a step ahead of Alzheimer's, but this affliction is malicious and relentless. This is man who earned a master's degree in history. He was a successful high school teacher and baseball coach for 42 years, and here he was struggling to utter simple pronouns,

But my father and I had a memorable Sunday morning after my neice's celebration. Any good day with my dad is a blessing, because there are times when his thoughts are clear and his words come easy, and those moments of clarity mean so much to me.

Big Al speaks quietly as he searches for the right words, which evaporate before he can say them. It hurts him and all of us. We are helpless and often feel hopeless because there is no cure for dementia.

Back on the beach

I tried to coax my father to come along with us to the beach. He politely refused, so we bought him a hot dog and fries from Kelly's Roast Beef — a fast-food joint that claims to be the creator of the first roast beef sandwich. 

Anybody from the Greater Boston area is familiar with Kelly's scrumptious reputation for seafood. Their fish, clam and scallop plates are unbelievable, but you will need to take a small loan to pay for them. Kelly's clam chowder is worth the price, especially on a cold New England day.

When fear and evil strike out

Every time a terrorist strikes, our openness shrinks, freedoms dwindle, and our feelings of suspicion and revenge rise to the top of our emotions.

Four days after we visited the Bay State, my son returned to Boston for a class field trip. Anthony's fearless history teacher had the class visit the Freedom Trail, Paul Revere House, Bunker Hill monument and U.S.S. Constitution. Before he boarded the U.S. Navy's oldest commissioned ship, his classmates were told to remove their belt buckles, searched and advised that any visitor who leaves a bag unattended will be asked to leave the ship.

These guys were not fooling around!

The Navy has always kept a watchful eye on the Constitution, and rightfully so. But due to the Boston Marathon bombings that killed four people and wounded hundreds, law enforcement agencies are on edge, and that means we are all under constant scrutiny when these bastards act.

But their cruel acts didn't prevent a class of wonderful students from Edward Little High School from visiting Beantown last Thursday.  Sure, I worried about my son and the rest of those kids, but when we cower in our homes, terrorists win.

Terror works for a little while, but resilient Americans won't be dictated by fear, and that's how you beat evil.

Just ask the Nazis!