Each day we are alive we happen to drive our parents’ crazy by getting into trouble, fighting with our siblings, or not listening to our parents. At my house there was one thing my siblings and I respected it was dad, the man who wore many hats in our family. The one thing we knew as kids, that nothing was going to get anything by him, he tended to find out everything. Was it that my siblings and I were scared of the six foot four, two hundred fifty pound, Italian man or was it the facts his hands were like cinderblocks? It was the fact we respected his values and the method to his madness he called being a father. His work ethic, patience, and family traditions make Brian Galfo an astonishing father. First, his work ethic is something unknown
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Since my dad was the only one of his sibling to stay near where he grew up, so he could take care of his mom, everyone knew Uncle Brian will help. My dad loved his nephews Mike and Tom, like they were his own; after his sister Deb when through a bad divorce and left them with their father. My dad would never say no if Mike or Tom need anything especially if it meant them moving into our small three bedrooms and one bath house. Coming from an Italian family my dad was big on family traditions, he believed that was the strength to all family bonds. Growing up is was a routine to attend church and spend time at grandma’s house on Sunday. Family vacations were either spent at our family beach on Long Beach Island or at the cabin in the Poconos, close enough for my dad to get home if work called. We cannot forget the pumpkin picking with the Oakleys or going the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, as long as we lived under his roof. He was also known as the entertainer and host of the family. Every few years he hosted a big family reunion in our backyard for over fifty people. Then the dread holiday season where we had to dress up and go to family holiday dinners, nothing more than my siblings and I hated. My dad even wore the chef’s hat every Sunday, he would make a big pot of poppa secret sauce and have a tradition Sunday Italian family dinner. I may have dread the family things growing up, but now I appreciate them and try to make my own family
Since my dad was the only one of his sibling to stay near where he grew up, so he could take care of his mom, everyone knew Uncle Brian will help. My dad loved his nephews Mike and Tom, like they were his own; after his sister Deb when through a bad divorce and left them with their father. My dad would never say no if Mike or Tom need anything especially if it meant them moving into our small three bedrooms and one bath house. Coming from an Italian family my dad was big on family traditions, he believed that was the strength to all family bonds. Growing up is was a routine to attend church and spend time at grandma’s house on Sunday. Family vacations were either spent at our family beach on Long Beach Island or at the cabin in the Poconos, close enough for my dad to get home if work called. We cannot forget the pumpkin picking with the Oakleys or going the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, as long as we lived under his roof. He was also known as the entertainer and host of the family. Every few years he hosted a big family reunion in our backyard for over fifty people. Then the dread holiday season where we had to dress up and go to family holiday dinners, nothing more than my siblings and I hated. My dad even wore the chef’s hat every Sunday, he would make a big pot of poppa secret sauce and have a tradition Sunday Italian family dinner. I may have dread the family things growing up, but now I appreciate them and try to make my own family