We lost our Popo last week. Mr. Jack Caravella Jr.
He was awesome. He had a big presence with a large belly laugh.
When I was little, he called me Piggie. As I became a mother he called my daughters piggies. He also always wanted to spank our fundis. That's Italian for butts. He'd hold up his massive hands and say, "Come ovah here, let me put my hand on your fundi" He was wonderful.
A deck of cards never were far from him. He loved to play Solitaire. He always sat at the head of the table, while dinner was being cooked, playing Solitaire. Hell, he even was playing it while I was in labor with my youngest. My youngest was born two days before his 78th birthday. He asked me to hang on and try to have her on his birthday. Believe me, I tried...she was ready when she was ready.
He is the one who taught me how to shoot a gun and how to fish. He took us fishing and the boys hunting. He lived for that stuff. He loved to watch football. He loved good food.
It was a tradition for me to make him a pound cake every year on his birthday. I started doing that as a young girl. He loved those pound cakes.
My oldest daughter is his namesake. She's also named after his wife, my Gaga.
Although I wasn't able to be involved and included in the passing of this great man, I can at least write this : I love you and miss you, Popo.