Remembering My Father

Fiorella's father was a hard worker out of necesssity. When he was thirteen months old, his father was killed in a coal mine accident, leaving his mother to support their three children. Times were tough until she and one of her sisters got the contract to clean the schoolhouse. Of course, Dad and his brother and sister were expected to help. One of Dad's most poignant memories was looking out the window while he was sweeping the floor and seeing the other children at play.

As he grew up, Dad picked up odd jobs around the neighborhood, like killing chickens and herding cattle down to the river and back. And after graduating from high school, he took the inevitable bus ride from Osceola Mills to Akron and scored a job with General Tire, eventually becoming a foreman, then being sent to Waco, Texas, to head up the biggest department in the plant.

Dad played as hard as he worked. A born athelete, he played basefball and football in high school, added golf, tennis and bowling when he hit Akron, and, in Waco, established a company golf league and bowling league. Fio remembers the rows of sports trophies lining the garage shelves.

But best of all, Dad was a sweet father. His eyes glowed with warmth when he looked at his children, and Fiorella always knew that she was loved.

Happy Father's Day, Dad. Rest in peace. May you bowl 300 in heaven.

Recycling

During her research on cattle ranches for WHERE THE HEART LEADS, Fiorella learned that calves and cows bawl for days when they are separated so the calves can be weaned.   It's something ranchers get used to, but it touched Fiorella's heart and, for the first time in her life, she wondered if she should go vegetarian.  On the other hand, life is a circle: cattle eat grass, we eat cattle,  the earth absorbs us,  grass feeds off the earth, and cattle eat grass.  Back to square one.