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A eulogy for my father

angel looking down on book in hands

Following is the eulogy I wrote and presented at my father’s funeral on December 7, 2019. Although it was written to be spoken, I hope you can hear the tone with which it was delivered. My father, Joseph Amicangelo, was born on January 14, 1922, in the small village of Pacentro in the Abruzzo region of Italy. He was the youngest of four children born to his parents, Caesare Amicangelo and Carolina Lalama. He is the brother of the late Carlo Amicangelo, Philomena Pompeo and Louis Amicangelo. He was married to my mom, the late Rose Petix, for 61 years. His devoted daughters include Linda (Ismael) Rodriguez, Laura Thurman, Carolina (Franco) Greco, and me, JoAnn (the late Paul Kwasniewski) Amicangelo. He was the proud grandfather of Angela (Anthony) Maicki, Jennifer (Jamie) Thiede, Marisa Greco, Matthew Rodriguez, Zachary (Katie) Amicangelo, Lisa (Steve) Nazoyan, Rachel Rodriguez, Gino Greco, Emilie Kwasniewski and Elise…

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Family

Happy Birthday, Poppy

side profile of man

My dad turned 97 today. Most people who learn how old he is can’t believe it. He’s aged well, as they say, and still has a bigger-than-life personality that keeps him engaged in his world. And, let’s face it, he’s as handsome as ever. 97 years young I often tell him that he’s longer lasting than the Energizer bunny. I can’t tell you how many times in the last 10 years that my sisters and I thought we’d lost him to one health issue or another as we kept vigil with him in the emergency room. But it was never long before he’d come back around, and we’d breathe a sigh of relief. Sometimes he wonders aloud why God doesn’t take him to heaven to be with my mom. As much as his lament tugs at my heart, I can imagine what he must feel. It can’t be easy for…

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Everyday Life

For freedom or greed: A Veterans Day reflection

thank you dog tags on wood background | JoAnn Amicangelo | joannamicangelo.com

In honor of Veterans Day, I set out to write an article about my father’s brief stint in the army. He was 20 in 1943 when the call came to serve his country during World War II. Just three years before, he left Pacentro, Italy, to join his father and other family members in Pennsylvania and Michigan. Like his fellow immigrants, he came with the hope of a better, more prosperous lifestyle than he might have had in his hometown. Fortunately for my dad, he never saw a battleground. He did his basic training at Camp Custer in Michigan and Camp Robinson in Arkansas. Due to stomach ulcers that kept him in the infirmary more than on duty, he was granted a medical discharge six months later. But not every soldier was that lucky. While doing some research about Veterans Day, I found a list of the 11 wars or…

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