My three heroes appear below. They fought in a war almost 70 years ago (OMG!) and thankfully, all three survived WWII and went on to live long and happy lives. I was privileged to be part of those lives, and I pay them honor here today.
To Joe Palano, the handsome fella on the left, my grandfather, my Nonnu. Probably the first crush of my life. I had such a soft spot for that man, who was always dressed to the nines and smelled of English Leather. By the time I came into his world, he was semi-retired, so I got to see the fun side of him. Thanks, Nonnu, for picking me up when I was teeny so I could play that crazy xylophone doorbell you had; thanks for letting me sit in your chair in the den when I needed some quiet time alone; and thanks—yes, thanks—for the practical joke and making me laugh the afternoon I came home after driving into the side of the bank with mom's station wagon. Thanks for being brave enough to do your job when your country called you.
To Steve Palano, that cutie holding the other cutie (my mom, clearly malnourished) in his arms. Thanks Uncle Stevie for heading overseas to face the enemy. I'm so glad you, too, came home and I was more-than-blessed to be a part of your life. For those of you who know me personally, you can blame my Uncle Stevie every time I call you darlin', honey, sunshine, or sweets. If Uncle Stevie loved you, you were labeled with a term of endearment: it was his verbal embrace. Thank you, Uncle Stevie, for showing me how to tell a good wild mushroom from a bad; thanks for letting me know that someone COULD wear those clip-on, flip-up sunglasses over their regular pair and still look sharp; and thank you for delivering possibly the worst jokes (friends, next time you see me, ask me about the cat who ran out of gas) and convincing me that laughter—no matter its origin—is a priceless gift.
And finally, to Al Spadaro, that debonair guy on the right with the Hollywood-type swagger (seriously, do any of us look like that today in a photograph? It's like everyone who came of age in the '30s and '40s took "How To Strike A Pose" class in high school): oh, Uncle Al, where do I start? Uncle Al never did have children of his own, so to me he was a second father. Thank you, Uncle Al, for instilling in me a love for the crooners...I rarely hear a tune from Deano or Frank without picturing your smile. Thank you showing me that a strong man could still be a gentle man. (I'll overlook the fact that you'd whistle from the doorway of Filene's Basement to signify to Aunt May that it was time to leave). Thank you for appreciating the beauty of nature and for helping your family to appreciate it too, right down to the last sunset you ever admired. You lived, served, and passed from this world with such passion.
So these are my heroes. Who are yours? Thank them. And thank you to all servicemen and servicewomen. Yesterday's, today's and tomorrow's.
