My father was a good man, a good provider, an adoring husband but above all else he was a great  father.  All my good childhood memories involve him. I can't remember a sporting event that he didn't attend. Although he had a busy job in the Bronx, he always managed to attend all my high school games cheering loudly in the stands. He would play in the pool with my friends and I trying to dunk us or playing around the world with the floating basketball hoop.  Getting up early to go save a spot at the Overlook Beach picnic area with my sister Kerri and my Dad is a treasured memory.  He would always claim to have called ahead to reserve a parking spot and we couldn't believe it when one was available right  by our picnic table. We spent every weekend at the beach with neighbors and friends building forts in the sand, playing running bases with the dads or playing in the waves.  Leaving the beach it was always a contest who could find the first rabbit. My dad called me Bubbles and I called him Big D and for as long as I can remember we left each other notes each morning. He left so early for work that I would leave him a note when I went to bed and he would respond before he left for work.  In 1980s all I wanted was a cabbage patch doll but they were hard to come by.  My dad who left by 5 am for work would wake up even earlier to try to win one on the radio.  And I still don't know how he did it but I got my doll that Christmas.  The stories could go on and on but the message is the same. My father was a great dad. Always there for me. In his later years we spent a lot of time together and had many good conversations. He knew how much I loved him , how thankful I was for the life he gave me and how proud I was to be his daughter. I will miss him greatly but I am so incredibly thankful for the 52 years I got to be Jack Scala's daughter.

But being papa, he always made sure on his campus visits to make them show him the library, to ensure they were keeping up with their studies. 

He didn’t just raise his three daughters. He raised me too. Papa and I were buddies. Pals. Confidants and partners is crime. 

For decades, he’d reminisce with me about when he’d take me to elementary school and how we’d look around the neighborhood for Christmas trees that belonged in Rockefeller center.  And he’d tease me about how when I was in high school and he’d pick me up, I’d joke with him and ask him to run over kids my angststy teenaged self didn’t particularly like. While I knew he wouldn’t actually hit anyone, I did know that no matter what - he was there for me. He was always on my side and in my corner. 

Growing up, papa always reminded me that if I ever needed anything, all I needed to do was call 1-800-PAPA and he’d be there for me. No questions asked. And he always was. And I know that even when he isn’t with us physically anymore, that he’ll still be there. All I have to do is call 1-800-PAPA. 

I love you papa. To infinity and beyond. Moon and back. Plus one. Normally - this is where I would tell him that I win. We would argue back and forth and usually he would resign and let me win. 

But I know that no matter how much I loved him, how deeply I respected and admired him, or how grateful I am for the hard work he put in so my life could be different than his, he loved me more than I could ever truly know. His capacity for love is as mythic as he is. 

So this time, you win papa. To infinity and beyond moon and back.

My Grandfather, my papa was a man of stories. Tall tales and short sayings. So many legends that he became legendary himself. 
The giant frog. 
The world’s smallest violin. 
Leave that chapter out and make it a mystery. 

 But the stories he told the most, the ones heard so often they became the mythic fabric that makes and shapes our lives left no mystery about what mattered most to him. 

Like how when he met mama, she was so pretty it made his teeth hurt. Or how he would beat up anyone who disrespected her. And then head right into a church service, his fist still aching from its impact. Mama told her father about his antics, she called him an animal, but from then on her father knew she’d always be safe with papa. And for over sixty years papa did keep her safe. His life revolved around keeping all of his girls safe. 

He didn’t come from much. He told stories about being dropped off at bhoarding school by his aunt and uncle who had told him he was going for a pony ride. There were days when he was so hungry that he’d try to catch pigeons out of his window with a sling shot so he would have food to eat. He worked his entire life to make sure his children and grandchildren never experienced those same struggles. 

He worked and saved and built a life for his family that was so far removed from his childhood that when he’d tell these stories years later to his grandkids it would feel so unfamiliar it was hard to imagine. But the stories he told, the mythology he created for himself, prove he never forgot where he came from. What he built his way out of brick by brick. 

Papa was a proud man. And nothing made him prouder than his children and grandchildren. He loved being able to be a part of his daughter’s high school graduations during his time on the school board. He worked hard to be able to send his daughters to college. He told me often how much important it was to him that his girls be able to start their adult lives without the burden of debt.

I’d like to take a few moments to honor my father, Jack.
My dad didn’t have an easy childhood. Though he came from an affluent family, when his parents divorced, my grandmother and my father struggled to meet even their basic needs. That experience shaped the man we all knew so well—someone deeply motivated to help others and always strive to do the right thing.
My father was a proud energy conservation specialist at Con Edison. Earlier in his career, he was a union shop steward, where he fought to protect the rights of his coworkers. He was also a dedicated member of the local school board, working tirelessly to provide the children of Lindenhurst with a strong education, while ensuring fair taxes for the community.
He adored my mother—she was the love of his life. He worked hard to protect her and always made sure she was well taken care of. His belief in the value of education led him to ensure that all his children had the opportunity to attend college and succeed. He even set up funds to support his grandchildren, and his love for them was immeasurable.
Some of my fondest memories with Dad are spent at the beach or in the pool, moments I will treasure forever.
Dad was kind, loving, and supportive. He had a unique sense of humor and always loved to tease and make us laugh.
As a young man, he played semi-professional football and loved watching the game. Although he didn’t have a favorite team, he found great joy in not liking the Jets—simply because the rest of the family did. Every Sunday, he would call us to revel in every Jets fumble or setback. Those calls, full of laughter, will be missed more than I could ever express.
Dad, thank you for being the amazing man that you were. I will miss you more than words can express, but I know you’ll always be with me, in the lessons you taught me, the love you gave, and the memories we shared
 I hope you find the peace you so richly deserve. We’ll take care of Mom, so you can rest easy.  Love Janet

OBITUARY

Jack Scala

January 8, 1940 – March 14, 2025

Claude R. Boyd–Spencer Funeral Home

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