Joseph Thomas Colarusso

In memory of Joe Colarusso, a man whose zest for life echoed the vibrant hum of his cherished radio waves, we mourn his tragic passing on December 2, 2023. Born in New Jersey in 1940, his life’s journey spanned continents and decades, forever marked by his dedication to family, country, and embracing life to the fullest.

Joe's passion for ham radio took root early, transforming into a skill that he proudly wielded during his military tenure in Germany. An ardent Amateur Radio Operator, he assumed the role of a Specialist Radio Operator in Wildflecken, Germany, from 1961 to 1964, and continued his service in the Army Reserves from 1964 to 1967. Operating a Mars Radio Station in Germany, Joe facilitated crucial communication, patching soldiers through radio waves to their loved ones in the United States. He transcended the role of a mere technician; he was a lifeline, connecting soldiers with their families across the ocean.

Upon completing his service in Germany, fate intervened closer to home when Joe and Barbara crossed paths at a North Bergen, New Jersey bowling alley. Joe, the charismatic bartender, and Barbara, the enamored young lady sipping water for four hours, set the stage for a serendipitous connection. Their journey as husband and wife began in 1969, coinciding with the historic day when men first walked on the moon. They embarked on a 54-year orbit characterized by laughter, loyalty, and the joy of raising a son and daughter named Joseph and Gina.

Texas became their new home in 1978, where Joe's brilliance found a stage at Lockheed Martin. As an engineer, he tackled complex challenges, from investigating the story behind a fallen plane told in a crash recorder, to designing equipment that left its mark on the world. After retirement, the engineer and genius in him continued to thrive, leading him to consult for companies and secure 13 patents, each a testament to his innovative mind.

But Joe's heart found solace beyond the realm of blueprints and circuits. He was a pillar of Amvets Post 115, a familiar face who saw more than fellow veterans; he saw brothers and sisters in arms, offering a hand, a story, or just a quiet understanding. In his later years, time spent with friends and family was cherished in sort of a quiet and supportive energy. He never had a bad word to say about anyone and would often remind his children that “we’re all different.”

He leaves behind a legacy of love – a wife, Barbara, with whom he shared a lifetime of laughter; a son, Joseph, and his wife Xochitl, with granddaughters Xoey and Lila; and a daughter, Gina, and her husband Ran, with grandchildren Ben, Ety, Oz and Sophie. He also leaves a sister, Rosemary Colarusso, along with countless nieces, nephews, extended family, and friends, scattered across the country, each touched by his warmth and wisdom.

While his voice may no longer resonate through the airwaves, Joe's spirit endures, reverberating in the laughter and gratitude of his family and community, as well as in the echoes of a life well lived. His memory will be cherished, and his love remembered eternally.

On behalf of the Colarusso Family, they thank everyone for their kind words and continued support. At this time, services will be held privately.

Message from Joseph C. Colarusso (son):

My dad was an exceptional father. When I was a young kid, my dad spent his weekends taking me to the Ft. Worth Museum of Natural Sciences, the Botanical Gardens, the Water Gardens, West End Marketplace in Dallas, sidewalk sales, shooting ranges, camping trips. We spent many Saturdays underneath his '69 Corvette getting greasy and saying all the bad words. We would hang out at Foot's Corvette and Harley shop. We would go to Jo-Ed's Bomber Subs on Pioneer Pkwy for submarine sandwiches. I don't even know why I'm thinking of these random memories. But one thing was certain, I was dad’s wingman every weekend.

As a young adult in my mid-twenties, I bought my first house in Austin. My dad was so excited for me. He drove down to co-sign on that FHA loan. He was a man of few words, but he loved home improvement projects, and all of a sudden we had everything in the world to talk about. And lucky for dad, my first house was a dump. But it's what I could afford and, if you know the real estate market in Austin, you understand. Dad would load his truck up with tools and drive 3 hours to Austin to spend weekends helping me work on my house. We did drywall, electrical wiring, welding, replaced windows, hung siding, pulled toilets--you name it, we did it. We worked so well together, often finding a rhythm without using words for long stretches of time. He used to call home improvement "creeping elegance," and we turned that little starter home into something pretty magical.

In my late 30s, I met Xochitl. It didn't take me long at all to realize that I needed to share my life and start a family with her. My parents sold their house of 35 years to move down here and be close to us, and to enjoy their grandkids. In fact, my parents' house is so close that my dad would drive his lawnmower over and cut our grass if I let it get too long (sorry, dad). He eventually got tired of that and just gave me his riding lawnmower--a win for both of us.

Mom and dad have been coming to my gigs at least once a week since they moved down here ten years ago. My gigs had become a social outlet for my parents, and they always showed up with a posse! Up until last week, I enjoyed regular cups of coffee on my back porch with dad. He never had a lot to say and he rarely finished his coffee. Nonetheless, it was a ritual I will always cherish. Anyone who knew my dad knows he was never very chatty. But this much is true, my father never missed an opportunity to tell me he was proud of me. He never missed a chance to tell me how much he loved me.

When I try to wrap my head around the abundance of love and support I've received from my parents for my entire life, it seems ridiculous that I would have anything to grieve about. The rest of the world should be upset that he got to be my dad and not theirs. But it's true, my dad did pass last Saturday. I've always tried to keep it light out here and I'm sorry for the bad news. Please raise a glass of whatever you're drinking to my dad, Joseph Colarusso. You were a great father and I'll love you forever, dad❤️

In lieu of flowers, please consider donating to the AmVets Ladies Auxiliary 115 at:

https://www.gofundme.com/f/amvets-ladies-auxiliary-115?utm_campaign=p_cf+share-flow-1&utm_medium=email&utm_source=customer