Guido Della Penna

July 29th 2014

Guido Della Penna

February 5th 1920 - July 21st 2014

“Papi”

Today we are celebrating the life of our father Guido, and what a life it was… I am very lucky to have enjoyed having my Dad in my fife for over 63 years, that’s a long time. A lot of experiences were shared in that time, and a lot of memories created.

When I sat down to write this I had a hard time deciding what to write, after all there is so much history, 94 years worth… There is a lot I could say about “Papi”, but no matter what I write, my words would fall short of describing the man, his character and what he meant to our family and me personally. So please indulge for a few moments while I do my best to share a little of his history, and some of my personal views on the man we all knew as “Papi”.

My Dad was a kind man, a gentle man; he was humble, loving, strong, and quiet. Born in the hills of central Italy his beloved Abruzzi, his family was very poor, the oldest of seven children, he never finished high school, from a young age he had to go to work and help provide for the family. He was a loving and caring son, husband, and father, and later a loving Grandfather and Great Grandfather…

As a young man at the tender age of 17 he was he was drafted in the Italian army, the 9th regiment of the ”Alpini”. After basic training he was promptly sent into war, first to Greece and Albania and all over Europe later on. At war and away from home for the first couple of years he had very little or no news about his family back home. The uncertainty of war was hard on him. When he finally returned to his home on leave for the first time he found destruction and despair, his small town had been in the crossfire between German and British troops. His large family had dispersed throughout the area looking for shelter and some dear friends and relatives had perished. He was scared and confused, he wanted to stay and help protect his family, he didn’t want to go back to the front lines but he had no choice, not returning would have meant desertion and treason and most certainly persecution.

When Mussolini was removed from power in 1943 the Italian forces were in disarray. He saw this as an opportunity to go back to his home town, again… to check on his family. After a long trip home he was there just long enough to make sure his family was Ok when he was captured and imprisoned by British forces, after being in a POW camp for some time he volunteered to help the Allied forces, first with the British and later with the US Army Intelligence service in Sant’Agelo D’Alife near Naples. There he met our Mother, Maria, his wife of almost 65 years. He went with US Forces to liberate Monte Casino from German occupation and later to defend Florence. After a long seven year stint, the war ended and he finally returned home.

He was well regarded by his peers and the forces he served with. After the war he was offered a position with the “Carabinieri” (the Italian police), but after a long tour of duty during the war he was done carrying weapons and in 1948 he sailed for Argentina to look for a better future. My mother followed in 1950 and they started a family.

Our years in Argentina were never easy, but they were happy years, my father worked very hard to give my brother and I everything he didn’t have as a young man. He was a great provider, put food on the table, a roof over our heads and always believed in good education. He and my Mom were a great team.

When I moved to the states in ‘72 he and the family followed me to the US. We joined his Brother Julio and other extended family members we had in the east coast. He loved the US, the country he served during the war. He called it “ America”…. When I was young I used to listen to the stories about the war, and how the US Troops came in to help the battered Italian population rebuild their towns. He was happy here… he was always amazed by what this country had to offer, especially to immigrants like him. He made many friends everywhere he went, my father believed in community, especially the Italian community, if you were Italian you were immediately part of his circle of friends.

He always worked very hard, but he made it fun because everyone at work became his friend. When he showed up at work every day everyone knew his name, everyone said hello and everyone was happy to see him. When my parents moved to California in 95 they didn’t know anyone here, within months they were part of the local Italian community. Soon they had many “Paisan” friends come to visit and exchanged home grown vegetables with them, a form of bonding in the Italian community.

My Father was a care giver, he always watched over his family and extended family. Helped his sisters and his brothers and they looked up to him, I remember many family get togethers in Argentina, with aunts uncles and many cousins, he was everyone’s favorite uncle. When I was 17 I was hurt in a motorcycle accident and was sent to the hospital. He spent every night for two weeks sleeping on the floor next to me (that was after working full day driving a truck) until I was sent home. He was a devoted family man; he loved all of us, he adored his granddaughters Lia and Michelle, he adored his great grandsons, he would get teary eyed every time they called him Papi.

To him life was about peace, love and enjoyment, he loved his home, his garden, and la Famiglia, he never complained about anything… Because as he said many times there is no point in complaining I am thankful, all the time I got after the war is bonus time… and he had a lot of bonus time.

When I was young in Argentina I spent many days on the truck with him making deliveries, (my favorite thing to do in the summer months). In those day trips we talked about many things and it was during those trips that my Dad taught me many life lessons: not to sweat the small stuff “Lascia Perdere’ he used to say, (let it go). Be happy, enjoy life, do the right thing, be responsible and trustworthy, be compassionate and fair, make the people who love you proud, and respect you Mom.

He led by example and in doing so set the bar very high, mostly by his simplicity of thought and purity of intention, many of these life lessons I am still trying to learn and implement.

My dad had a long life; sometimes a hard life, but he made a choice, his choice was joy, happiness and gratitude for what he had every day. He didn’t have much time to lament over hard times or things he could not do anything about; his time was better spent gardening, going for a walk, saying hello to the neighbors, going to the park with Lia, going to work with my brother Ori, driving to a race with me, coming to the house for a Sunday get together or driving with me to LA to visit Michelle and the kids.

His quiet admiration meant the world to me; I never wanted to disappoint him, I know how hard he worked and how much he and my mom sacrificed to provide for us. He was not one to give many direct complements. Maybe he didn’t want us to get a “big head”, but once in a while I would catch him in a conversation where he would be bragging about my brother and me to one of his friends, or someone he knew.

We spent a lot of time together, especially the last couple of years with his illness. He was always gracious and kind, never complaining. I knew he was getting ready to go when he recently told me how proud he was of Ori and me. He said that he loved us and he was content, that his job was done and he could go in peace.

Just a couple of weeks ago he said to my Mom, God is waiting for me… I think I’m going to go to heaven because I think I was a good Man.

I agree.

I will forever miss that smile greeting me when I drove up to his driveway to visit, asking me “how are you Juan Carlos”? How was your day? What did you do today? Can I get you something to eat? Your Mom made some great pasta today…

You are gone but will never be forgotten, you’ll always be my hero…

I am a lucky man. I had the best Dad in the world.

John Della Penna