Share Your Words of Remembrance

Dear Everyone,

We are posting words of remembrance shared at the funeral today and others anyone would like to add. If you would like to share your memories of Tony on this blog, please send them to me:

jrobideau@gmail.com

-- and any pictures you'd like to accompany your words.

A beautiful memorial today. Thanks to all who made it and all who could not.

Aloha.

Words of Remembrance: From Susan

Dear Uncle,

I write this in celebration of your life. You have been a part of my whole life. I loved the stories

you would tell me on how you and my mom would take me to the doctor when I was an infant

on the street car, that was before the bus when not everyone had cars. Then you went away

in the Navy to serve our Country. I know that you spent a lot of time in Japan because

somewhere in my attic I still have the china tea set you sent me, also in my hope chest is

a pair of silk pajamas from Japan.

I remember the time you lived in Southern California and our families would visit often. I

remember the day you and Auntie Marge came to tell us that you were moving to Hawaii, a far

and exotic place. Once you moved to Hawaii we didn’t see you much because you were afraid

to fly and only came back to the mainland by ship. When I graduated from high school you sent

me the most beautiful necklace and bracelet, I still have it today and wear it with love.

As soon as I could I came to visit you in Hawaii. I was overcome by the Aloha Spirit. Auntie

Marge taught us about Hawaiian culture and traditions and shared the island way like no other.

When I got married you were still afraid to fly and couldn’t attend my wedding. So I came to

you on my honeymoon so you could meet the wonderful man I intended to spend my life with.

You welcomed Richard with open arms and sometimes I would be jealous because you two hit

it off so well. I have many good memories of our many trips to Hawaii, my children even have

“Made in Hawaii” stamped on their okoles.

You were here for me when my father passed away and became my surrogate dad. Most

important you stepped in and became a grandfather to my two boys. Finally, you decided to

take a chance and fly and it wasn’t so bad, of course you only flew first class. For the last

twenty years we didn’t make many visits to Hawaii because you were always on our

doorstep. I think one year you were here 4 times, most years we could expect at least one or

two visits. You were here for the important occasions: Ryan’s birth – your first “great

nephew”, Chris and Andy’s going away parties as they both went off to culinary school. Chris

and Kristy’s wedding, Ethan’s birth your second great nephew and Andy and Nicole’s wedding.

You gave us the gift of the love for food. I loved the times I would come home from work and

you and the boys had prepared dinner – from adobo to pizza and everything in-between. You

taught me the fine art of the perfect eggplant parmesan – still my favorite dish – and how to

make the best meatballs.

I loved your Sunday phone calls – sometimes long with lots to say and other times just checking

in to see if everything was okay. Sometimes you would just talk to Richard.

Thank you for hanging in there so I could have one last visit with you in September, I know that

you didn’t say much but I could see in your eyes how happy you were and how you enjoyed all

of us being together.

I will always love you, ALOHA, dear uncle

Susan

Words of Remembrance: From Napa

Gps was not a blood relative of mine. But no one would ever know that I wasn’t one of his own by the way he treated me.

My own grandfather passed when I was still young, but I never felt like I lacked one. I was Jen’s best friend growing up and because I lived just 2 doors away I was a fixture in the house. And even with Jen out of the house the visits didn’t end. I went to have sandwiches with Gps and Tai, discussing what Sami was up to on Days of Our Lives with the oldies station playing in the background.

And when I moved to New York, I’d walk through Grand Central Station and think about being in the very same place where Gps caught the train every week, so many years before, to meet Marie, the girl he’d later marry. Every once in while I’d get a friendly call from home, and I knew Gps hadn’t forgotten about me. I won’t be forgetting him either.

Words of Remembrance: From Jenny

I’d like to begin by doing something I NEVER do: butchering a line of one of my greatest heroes to suit an occasion. Forgive me, Mr. Shakespeare:

“So long as we can eat and mouths can feed, so long live we and we give life to thee”

That was for you Grandpa. And so is this:

Having the great fortune of growing up in Grandpa's house, I had the greater gastronomical fortune of growing up FED in Grandpa's house.
Spaghetti and meatballs, Capicola, ricotta, Mortadella, mozzarella, Prosciutto, and provalone; osso bucco, gnocchi, ravioli, lasagne, Italian sausage, and pepperoni pizza --homemade of course. The meat and cheese list is long.
Yes, I think I was the only girl in elementary who brought salami sandwiches for home-lunch.

Those of you who are here cannot not know that Grandpa--also known as “Gps,” Daddy, Papa T, Tony Di, Mr. D, Anthony George DiBuongrazio-- was indeed . . . Italian. On one of fellow Paesano, Tony Manzo's recent visits with Grandpa, they volleyed around the usual boisterous broken-Italian --between gentlemanly mouthfuls of aged Parmesan from the Bronx. And Mr. Manzo urged me to start working Chianti back into his good friend’s daily diet. Per resistenza! For strength! Indeed, Grandpa was not just a father and grandfather, but a real life Godfather and Goodfella. You know this, because you all have been fed by him. To be fed by him is to have been loved by him.

So, can you imagine the dysfunction I caused when I gave up eating meat?

"What kind of ______ Italian are you?"
(This “tame” impersonation has been censored for obvious reasons. Besides, we all know how to fill in the blank)

You see, in Grandpa's eyes, I was not just cutting out a food group; I was cutting out “food”; I was cutting off my umbilical cord to Umbria. Or more appropriately, I was cutting off my abruzzical cord to Abruzzi. And he was proud of Abruzzi. He used to call himself “the FBI”-- "Full -Blooded- Italian." As a result, his grandkids are all a quarter-- “FBI” only by way of the dinner-plate. Except me--at the time. So to bridge this gap I had created, Grandpa and I began a weekly lunch date out on the back patio. He would pick the wine and supply his famous fresh baked bread; and I would prepare us a vegetarian meal. To my surprise, he ate heartily-- as if my “faux-food” (like meat) played some vital part in him--the way meat once played a vital part in me. Even though he'd be hungry an hour later, craving that ever-missing ingredient, we were connected again. During these meals, without conversation, he told me I was still Italian. Food had estranged me, and food had redeemed me.
Or maybe it was the bread and the wine.
Maybe I had never been estranged at all.

When I heard Grandpa was sick, I felt a fear somewhere deep in Abruzzi. A fear of being estranged. This deep sea diver is invincible--and essential. He is the bridge. He has always been. My life consists of him. What if there isn’t time for more . . . HIM? But my brother, Michael reassured me there was time: Italian blood is not easily subdued. It is strong like dry Chianti--or like a hunk of hard salami. And when I came back this August to live with him again, there was time --if only enough to get to know “the FBI” even better than before --and again without words. As I shared the privilege of now feeding him, I was privy to the details of how he savored his food. Eyes: closed, brow: focused, jaw: active and ready, throat: emitting jugular sighs of hearty satisfaction (a familiar sound from my childhood that always made me think Grandpa’s food tasted better than mine). Bacon, corned beef hash, sausage, Mortadella, clam chowder, sardines, lox, and bread; these meats--yes, I am now counting bread as a meat-- made up the man who fed us all. He is in our flesh and blood. His bread is the meat of omnivores and vegetarians alike. Through Grandpa Tony, we are all immortally part of “the FBI” and we make him immortal.

As Shakespeare summed up another sonnet, and this is unadulterated:

“The worth of that is that which it contains,
And that is this, and this with thee remains”

Join Us

February 14, 1924-October 27, 2010

Please join us to celebrate the life of
Anthony George DiBrogrozcio

Thursday, December 2, 2010
10 am with reception to follow at 11.30
Mililani Mauka Chapel
Directions

Grandpa loved this song. He would always call Uncle Tom at the oldies station and request this, and Uncle Tom would always play it. It captures his spirit--from just one of many luminous angles.

You win, Grandpa! Love wins.

Mangia!

October 1, 2010

Cousins Susan and Janice from California and Boston (last time they were here together was 43 years ago! And Susan & Richard here on their honeymoon 40 years ago--check out the photo!)

This time they prepared an Italian feast huge enough to feed all of us here--and the entire cast of Jersey Shore. Penne with marinara and meatballs, sausage, antipasto with mortadella, salami, prosciutto, provalone, mozzarella, peppers, olives, and tomatoes, bruschetta, cabernet, merlot, and chocolate cake with espresso for dessert. Maron!

Grandpa with an assortment--including wine! (Tony Manzo's advice)

Jane and Gary
Susan and Janice
Jennifer and Michael and Peggy
were assigned the task of
giving the feast "The Tony Danza" . . .

We showed it "Who's the Boss"

Grazie, cousins. We love you.

Visitors Galore!

Jeff and Lloyd Webb, Meat Loaf Bearers! Grandpa never goes hungry with the MLB on his side . . .














Peggy, Papa T, & Kat! A warm, welcomed presence. We send you our love.










Susan and Janice reunited in Tony's house after their trip 43 years ago--when they were teenagers!







Susan reminisces, "Grandma and Grandpa took us to see Don Ho in a local club and I believe we saw the Society of Seven too. We had a picnic on the beach with the family and just had a grand time. During that visit we met Mrs. Webb and Mamo too." The view of Pearl Harbor from Palisades is the same, but the houses that block it are new... (see the next blog for details of their most recent visit)





And many thanks to Toni S for stopping by too. You're bouquet is beautiful, and Grandpa loves strawberry pie :)