My paternal grandfather, Anthony Garofalo (1881-1931), and his father Demetrio came to Los Angeles from a town in Sicily called Pino dei Greci. They were in the LA fruit and produce transportation and wholesale business. Since my grandfather Anthony died of cancer when my dad was 15, my dad never experienced an adult relationship with his father.
My father grew up in Los Angeles during the Great Depression of the 1930's and World War II. He lived and worked during the economic boom years from 1950-1980 in Los Angeles County.
My mother, Bertha June Garofalo (1921-1994), and my dad were married in 1942. He was then a University of Southern California student and civilian draftsman employed by the U. S. Army Air Corps.
My dad and I were born in the same hospital: The White Memorial Hospital in Los Angeles. We both attended The University of Southern California.
He worked his entire professional career for the Flour Corporation. He retired in 1978 as the Chief Piping Engineer at Flour. Flour designed and built oil refineries and chemical plants all around the world.
My dad's Flour office was near the corner of the Washington and Atlantic Blouveards, less than a half mile from our small home in Bandini, unincorporated East Los Angeles, just another ELA barrio adjacent to industrial, manafacturing, retail, railroads, and slaughterhouses. This area later became the incorporated City of Commerce.
I worked for the City of Commerce Public Library from 1963-1969. I was attending California State University at Los Angeles at the time, paid for by my dad. My dad worked at Flour back then, and we were moving to the new house that my dad and my two brothers had built in Hacienda Heights. I worked hard at the "Ranch" most weekends building the garage, house, pool, and landscaping from the age of 10 to 21. My dad taught us the building trades.
My dad was a Catholic. He paid for me to attend Catholic School at St. Alphonsus Grammer School (K-8) and Cantwell Catholic High School (9-12), both in East Los Angeles. He supported the Catholic Church, its outlook on life, their schools, and their sacraments. My mom was the quiet Lutheran, acting like a Catholic.
My dad was a Republican. He was a professional engineer in a non-union workplace. He would not be thought of by others as a progressive, liberal, or libertarian. He liked the Moral Majority attitude. A prim and proper attitude, hard working, clean cut, Catholic, bourgeois, conservative, mainstream, married ... Ronald Reagan was his favorite President.
My dad was a savy investor, very hardworking, and frugal. He left me with an inheritance that enabled me to move to Northern California in 1998. I worked part-time from 1998-2017, and enjoyed life as an educator, fitness instructor, and semi-retired bohemian gentleman gardener on 5 acres in a rural area.
I can't say my Dad and I were good friends. It was probably somewhat my own fault, but he frequently was, for me, not a likeable sort of fellow in some ways. He tended towards an authoritarian and bossy manner. We did not share the same opinions about many issues of our adjacent generations or about different outlooks on life.
I could always count on him for help and guidance, and tried to reciprocate in kind over our lifetimes. I respected him in many ways. I admired his accomplishments. I thought of him as a strong, decent, hard working man. I wished him well for him for 52 years.
He told me many times, "You are a good son." He choose Karen and I as his caregivers and personal managers after he had a stroke in 1992 and my mom died of cancer in 1994; and, choose me as the Executor of his estate. We honored all his last wishes.
We both enjoyed traveling in the Southwest from 1950-1993. He took our family on many trips in the West from 1948-1966. My dad and mom owned a Ford 350 truck and a 20" travel trailer. He drove that rig across the USA and down to Mexico City.
So I tip my hat to my Dad, Big Mike, my Father, Michael James Garofalo, and my good memories.
Happy Birthday, Dad
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