Skip to main content

the old man...

...it's his birthday today. If he was still around he'd probably want to go see a movie. Is there anything with Meryl Streep or Bill Murray playing right now?

He died in 1993. When he was alive he'd sometimes drive me nuts, inspiring me to intone, "My dad, wrong or wrong!" And I unfortunately seem to have inherited his temper. I'm working on that. But I also inherited his sense of humor, movie buff-ness, interest in art, science and history, and a penchant for getting into a particular subject and then wanting to read everything about it. With me right now, it's the world of Eleanor of Aquitaine. My dad, at different times, had Virginia Woolf, Thomas Jefferson, Cripple Creek, Colorado and the poetry of Wallace Stevens as his enthusiasms, to name a few. We all, if we were listening, learned along with him, because along with the temper there comes a genetic tendency to pontificate, or as we call it in our family, breathe.

And did I mention the Yankees? We were indoctrinated an early age, much like my dad must have been by his dad. My dad's favorite Yankee when he was a kid was Joe DiMaggio, natch. I probably did so well in geometry in high school (the only math I did well) because I had been scoring and watching baseball with the old man for years. Think about it.

Another important fact about my dad was that he was a newspaperman. I don't say journalist, because that term has become meaningless. Dad was a political reporter for various Jersey papers including the Newark News and The Daily Observer, until he had his own weekly, The Hometown News. I remember watching a convention on TV with him, and trying to draw caricatures of some of the politicians. I was actually emulating my artist mom, whose caricature of my dad was used for his column in the Observer. He always presented an unbiased opinion in his pieces, which would sometimes drive the local politicians who befriended him crazy, as they weren't sure if he was a Republican or Democrat. He stuck to that principle at least once, by not voting in a primary, so he didn't have to declare his party and just voted in the general election. I realize now that I'm not sure, but I just assumed, that he was a registered Independent.

What would my dad think of the news media today and the imminent death of print (at least newspapers and magazines)? He'd probably be horrified as we all are at the level of competency displayed by today's "journalists." But the scientist in him would be fascinated by the internet and how news and politics have changed with the ever-growing computer culture. He'd be pretty jazzed about the election as well, and Obama, although like me, he might say, maybe now the Italian-Americans will get a chance! I hope he'd be happy to see that his daughter is political and articulate (sometimes) and interested in the world around her.

Happy birthday, pop. xoxoxo e

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

dolce

Gertrude D'Ippolito, c. 1920 Gertrude told stories about her parents, the D’Ippolitos, and her childhood. Was it true that Gertrude wanted to be an opera singer but her father, Giuseppe D’Ippolito, called Don Peppino, wouldn’t let her? Yes. He was an old-world gentleman. He didn’t think such a career was dignified or proper for a young girl. At least that is how I first heard the story, but there is another version: Gertrude gave up singing lessons because of her fresh piano teacher... Gertrude & Giuseppe (Don Peppino) D'Ippolito, c. 1920 opera libretto Aunt Paula, John Massimo’s and Joseph’s younger sister, heard another version: Gertrude took singing lessons. She was apparently so good and had such a range that at one of these lessons after hitting all the high notes, her teacher was overcome by her talent and grabbed her and kissed her on both cheeks and embraced her. She was horribly embarrassed and went home and told her parents. Don Peppino told her that she

secondo

CW: Joseph Francis Periale, John James Periale, Elizabeth Anne Periale, c.1967, en route to Mystic, CT. In an Italian-American family most of the action takes place around the dinner table. Depending on the layout of your home the table may be in the kitchen, dining room or both. A typical dinner table family scene: one person would start to tell a story while the coffee pot was being passed around the table after dinner. Everyone would react, editing and arguing, while wondering what would be served for dessert. As a child I got to see and learn a lot. About my family, about human behavior. And if I sat quietly enough, the grown-ups would forget I was sitting there and tell the juicier versions, while John James and I tried to understand the punchlines of the jokes! At my Uncle John Massimo’s house the food was served to us practically before we walked in the door. We would be hustled to the kitchen table and immediately offered a seat, where we would listen to and trade stories

my adorable grandma