Grandpa The Street Fighter

Today would have been my Pop Pop's 96th birthday. A gentle soul, he coached all six of his kids in swimming and worked as a meet official as well. My Pop Pop always told outlandish stories, too. It was hard not to love the man, and even harder not to take his passing personally.

A World War II Navy man, he served as a 2nd Lieutenant in his platoon of squids. I never knew much about his war adventures, but he mentioned in passing he was there when the atomic bomb was dropped. My Pop Pop would mention he was in the war, but the other details of his mission remained a mystery. Once, my brother Wendell interviewed him for a school project where he spoke more in detail than he ever had. Pop Pop felt the war was over, life went on I suppose.

Before the war, my Pop Pop had attended the University of Pittsburgh. While a student there, he had been an engineering major and quite a boxer. Once, when I was in high school my parents were away on a college visitation trip with my brother, and Pop Pop babysat. While he was watching us, I left my math book on the kitchen table. When I woke up, my Pop Pop was doing math problems. I was stunned. "Pop Pop, we have a television." I said gently. Later, my mom explained that as someone who was originally an engineer, my Pop Pop was not only good at math, but loved it.

I hate math with every fibre of my being and still do. My brother Wendell tolerates it, like the drug addict relative out of rehab and needing money yet again. As for my sister Skipper, she is good at it but they only have a casual relationship. Pop Pop, while originally an engineer, ended up taking over the family insurance business. It was because the war was over, he was recently married, and had a child on the way. This was the ready job he needed.

My Pop Pop was the type who never spoke about himself, but rather spoke about the accomplishments of his grandchildren instead. Whether it was Mindy and Meara and their success as dancers,one with City Baller and the other at the university as a dance professor respectively. Or my cousin Martin and his art. Then there was my other cousin Timmy who almost went to the Olympics as a skiier. Lest we not forget Skipper and Wendell and their success in the science and medical fields. Cody and Blaze, my younger cousins, excelled in baseball and soccer. And then there's my newest cousin Valery.

My Pop Pop was the first person to buy my book, and read it in a single night. I offered to give it to him as a gift, but he insisted on paying for it. His last outing before he passed Thanksgiving Day was my book signing.

What I did not know was that my Pop Pop was so skilled as an athlete. I had seen him swim, and he played tennis well into his 80s. However, I never knew he was a boxer. This is the video my mom and I took of my 95 year old grandfather demonstrating his moves.

RIP Pop Pop, you were da man.


Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Available through Barnes and Noble/Amazon

Pop Pop Story

When I started doing comedy in New York City, it was a big reach. I had screwed up just about everything else that year of my life. Everyone told me I should do it. I didn't know what I was doing. Somehow I was there though, behind the mic doing my thing. I was just a kid too. While it feels sometimes like I have a long way to go, I have come a long way.

My grandfather, whom I called Pop Pop, loved three things: tennis, cowboy movies, and comedy. The man always loved to laugh. He told jokes and even until the end was awesome. Pop Pop had a sweet, gentle personality and he laughed often. I think after surviving World War II and raising six kids, you would need a sense of humor. He beat cancer Lord know how many times and escaped that blood clot too. Anyone who met my grandfather enjoyed his company. Pop Pop gave all people an equal shake regardless of what they were. I was blessed to have the grandfather I did.

Around the time I began doing comedy, not everyone around me was overjoyed about this. Some tried to discourage me. Comedy can be scary, because when you fail it is personal. My Pop Pop was perhaps the first to encourage me though. As a motivation, he mailed me jokes cut out from the Reader's Digest so I would have something to work off of. Anytime there was an article somewhere about comedy, he would cut it out and mail it to me. Or if Pop Pop was unable to use scissors like he was later on, he would give my mother the heads up. Anytime there was a comedy special on, Pop Pop alerted me too.

My grandparents, Nunni and Pop Pop, were a comedy team a lot of the time it seemed. My grandmother would be dressed in loud colors and enter with her shock of white hair. A mercurial little woman, she would begin the exchange. It would go like this:
Nunni: I would have gotten here sooner but the old man took forever.

Pop Pop: Shut up, Pat.

Nunni: I am moving to Spain. That way I don't have to pay taxes.

Enter my dad

Dad: Actually, you would have to pay a set to live in Spain and a set to maintain US Citizenship.

Pop Pop: Being married to you is worse than life in prison. Because at least with life in prison I get paroled.

Nunni: Shut up old man.

When my book was published my Pop Pop insisted no one else could get a copy until he read it. My mom insisted on just giving him a copy, but he insisted on paying for it. With his eyes fixed, my Pop Pop spent two days straight finishing my book. My grandmother died around Easter and his health went downhill. I had a book signing in Pittsburgh in October. Despite his ill health my grandfather made it. Fragile and ill, he came to support me. This meant a lot because this would be his last trip out of the house alive.

I lost a hero in my life. A man who loved to laugh. It would be an understatement to say I lost a great fan, because he had been there from the beginning. So I will say I lost my greatest and first original fan.

Love you Pop Pop

April