After the memorial service, close friends and family returned to my parent’s home where the celebration of my father’s life continued. I took advantage of the gathering of distant relatives and did the best I could under the circumstances to create a family portrait.

I learned two things about my father that I did not know prior to the memorial. First, he had earned a sharpshooter distinction during his military service (something he rarely talked about) as noted on his honorable discharge paperwork. Second, as hard as he worked for and as proud as he was of earning his PhD, the occasion was never really acknowledged or celebrated by his family. Learning this made me very sad and helped me more fully appreciate just how far my father had come from his humble beginnings.

As soon as dinner was finished the party moved to, where else, the dance studio of a local community center where my parents were a weekly fixture. My dad would have approved.

Cloudbank
For Frank Calabria

I awoke and went to the window
To see what kind of day it was
The sun was shining, but
The world ended at the river’s edge!
A cloudbank obscured my view
I knew the river was there
I just couldn’t see it
Shrouded as it was in morning mist

The phone rang and I answered
The news was sad
The message of a friend’s passage
Into his own deep morning mist
I returned to the window and gazed out
I knew Frank was there
I just couldn’t see him
/>Shrouded as he was in mystery

        Melinda Morris Perrin

I Feel Better Today
For Frank Calabria

I feel better today
Fingers on frets, bodies sway
Now I know memories
Not fade away.

I feel better today
So many lives burning bright
Open my eyes
He is not far from sight.

I feel better today
lessons have been taught
Right till the end
There’s food, for thought.

I feel better today
Not here but not gone
Life well lived
Energy passed on.

        Stephen Harris (son-in-law)

I prepared a video in my father’s memory which was shared with family and played before and after his memorial service. I apologize for the low resolution limitations of this website. A higher resolution version can be found by following this link to Frank’s Memorial Video.

UPDATE: Because the video included unlicensed music the video was deleted by the hosting website.

I am replacing it with a music video created by Jeffrey Hedquist, one of his close friends using his original music.

My father would have enjoyed his memorial service immensely. The Unitarian church he attended for nearly 50 years was filled with family, friends, neighbors, and colleagues. It included music played by his former guitar teacher, dance, and a moving rendition of Amazing Grace sung by his grandson Mario accompanied on the piano by his niece, Heather. Each of his children spoke in turn about their love for him. The words I chose to share are included here.

My father had a gift for laughter. Most people laugh in response to something funny or at the expense of others. Frank took laughter to an entirely different level using it to create celebrations.

A typical scenario would involve one of his children recounting a story about one of his grandchildren. The moment any hint of the child’s creativity or irreverence surfaced it would begin. He would first chuckle to himself. Then, as if to clarify what he found so amusing, he would repeat the storyline that got him started and laugh even harder. As his laughter increased, he could only manage to repeat small sound bites from the original story. Soon everyone present was infected with laughter. When it subsided, what remained was joy and the anticipation of what would get Frank started again.

He had created from nothing a true celebration to honor attributes he admired in others, creativity and irreverence.

Imagine growing up in a family where the reward for creative thinking or behavior was a room full of people exhausted from joyous laughter. I have never met another person who shares this gift and it is my father’s laughter I will remember and miss most.

Knowing my father well, I am sure he would have jumped at the opportunity to speak at his own memorial service. In honor of that wish, I share with you his words taken from the last two paragraphs of his book, “Let it be a Dance”.

I feel most alive when my life is:

Smooth as a fox trot
Exhilarating as a waltz
Energetic as the lindy hop
Lively as a samba
Romantic as a rumba
Bouncy as a meringue
Racy as a quick step
Pulsating as a mambo and
Passionate as a tango

One final thought; (my father writes)

As to the possibility that there is an afterlife, I go along with Woody Allen whose view is: “I do not believe in the afterlife, although I am bringing a change of underwear.”

On the chance that there is a hereafter, I plan to take along an extra pair of dancing shoes, just in case there’s a big band bash happening
above or below.

As our family prepared for this service we searched every inch of Frank’s home for his dance shoes. They were not to be found and we all know who has them. Dance in peace my dear father.

As is our custom at family gatherings, bocce was at the center of the action. Competition was less rigorous than usual and everyone seemed to simply enjoy being together outdoors.

Maya was feeling rather rambunctious, perhaps the result of the three hour car drive sandwiched between her brothers. She gave new meaning to the phrase hanging around and may have started a new footwear fashion trend, the mono shoe.

We traveled to Schenectady today where family converged in advance of my father’s memorial service to be held tomorrow. All but one of his nine grandchildren are pictured here.

I have discovered a sure fire cure for grief. You hop into a small airplane, climb to 10,000 feet, and then jump out. When you are free falling at 120 mph I promise you it is impossible to be sad. When your chute opens you are euphoric and when you land safely on the ground you are happy to be alive.

I returned from Schenectady this afternoon after helping with preparations for my father’s memorial service which will be held on Sunday. My father loved autumn and I know he would have paused at this tree as did I to marvel at its beauty.

My father was a collector of books, music, and video. This is a small closet off of his study where he housed a collection of recorded CDs. Other similarly well-organized archives for different media (LPs, cassettes, DVDs, books, VHS) can be found throughout the house. It was his wish that his collection be donated to a library where it might one day be enjoyed by others.

When I was in high school I built this digital clock from various components I had collected. When I left for college I gave it to my dad and for the last 35 years, it has been a fixture on the desk in his study. It has marked every minute of my adult life and I take no small pleasure from knowing that he looked at it every day.

On the day before he died, my father, as was his routine, practiced the guitar for an hour. He was also strong enough to do a little exercise within the house.

I leave now to join my mother and siblings in Schenectady. My father loved sunsets and the beauty of fall foliage. I believe it no coincidence that I will make this drive on a day when both are sure to be extraordinary.

If I become half the man, half the father, and half the husband that my father was then I will consider myself a great success.