Archive: Opinions

Albert Francis Nozzolio, was born on July 10, 1910, in Sparanise Italy, a small town around 60 miles east of Naples in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius.

Every year, and especially this year, I pause on Dad’s birthday to reflect on all the wonderful life lessons my father imparted on me.  He was a very humble man who valued family above all else.   From him I learned many things, especially the true meaning of courage, hard work, fortitude and self sacrifice.

The 100th anniversary of father’s birth is also an opportunity for me and each of us to thank all those members of the greatest generation of Americans, especially those who immigrated to the United States. With special struggle and hard work they became legal citizens of our Nation. They lived through the great depression, assisted the war effort, and then worked very hard to make the United States the greatest economic power in the history of the world.

I’ve often said that if I could go back anywhere in time it would be to visit the tiny, impoverished apartment in Sparanise when my grandfather Guiseppe and my grandmother Adele made the decision to leave Italy, the homeland of their birth,  and build a better life for their children by immigrating to America.   This could not by any means have been an easy decision.   In order to comply with the law my grandfather would have to leave first, obtain a job, adhere to the appropriate legal procedures, and prove he had the adequate economic means to bring his wife, daughter Madeline, and son Albert to the United States.

Can you imagine the tremendous hardship endured by my family, and all the families who came to America during the late 19th and early 20th centuries? Can you imagine the multitude of personal sacrifice and upheaval these families went through to pursue a better life for their loved ones?  Can you envision how difficult it must have been for my grandfather to leave home, journey over 3000 miles to find work in America, and not see his wife and children again for over seven years?  This was a tremendous story, not just of my family, but of all the millions of families who made this incredible journey to American citizenship.  We are deeply in their debt. Because of their character and inner strength they made our Nation stronger.

Through the years I would often question my dad about his voyage to America.  What was it like?  How long did it take?  Was he afraid? He recalled how all the passengers got sea-sick. He did not.  He recalled how thrilled he was to be on the ship’s deck as it sailed into New York harbor, and how awestruck he was by the majestic and overwhelming site of the Statue of Liberty.  He recalled being processed at Ellis Island, and finally being reunited with his father.

My father was very intelligent.  He could recite and spell correctly all the countries of the world, along with their capital cities.  He taught himself to play the mandolin.  But when he arrived in America he could not speak English, and that set him back in school.  He always regretted stopping his formal education after eighth grade.

That regret became his gift to his three sons.  Albert made it clear college was a mandatory element of our futures. He worked very hard, and put in so much overtime performing difficult factory work in our hometown of Seneca Falls,  to help us achieve the dream of receiving a college education.  He went without items for himself so his three sons could afford to graduate from college, my brother Joe, the oldest, from Columbia University and my brother Matt and I from Cornell University.

Although we couldn’t afford the best material possessions, my dad gave to me guidance much more valuable.  Let me share with you a simple, yet lifelong lesson he imparted to me without saying more than just a few sentences.

The lesson was from my Little League baseball days.  We were all set to play a game one night, but the umpire scheduled to officiate failed to show-up.  Both coaches knew my Dad, and asked him to be the substitute umpire.  The game was exciting and hard fought.  We were two runs behind with our team batting in the bottom of the last inning, and I came up to bat with two outs and bases loaded.   The count was full…three balls and two strikes.  I thought the last pitch was too high and out of the strike zone.  My Dad, the substitute umpire, read it differently and called me out on strikes.  Game over, we lose!

At first I was shocked that my own Dad would call me out on strikes.  But on the way home he explained to me in words of simple and profound wisdom I still remember fifty years later:   “Son, I had to call it fairly, no matter who was at the plate”.  I treasure those words and appreciate that lesson more and more each year.

My Dad was a kind and gentle man.  He sacrificed his own dreams and material goods to provide a better life for his family.  He loved his adopted Nation, and the opportunity it provided to people who were willing to work hard and invest in their future.

My Dad, was proud to be of Italian heritage, but was even prouder of his American citizenship.  I too am very proud to be an American, and thank God every day for being the son of Albert Francis Nozzolio.

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