A Tribute to Gramps

 My grandfather, Tom, was born Gaetano Pezolano on July 18, 1918 in Brooklyn, NY. He was a first generation citizen of the United States; both of his parents were born in Southern Italy. He was a sickly child from birth and wasn't expected to make it past his second birthday. He beat the odds and survived childhood even though he was six before he was able to walk.

Tragedy struck in his boyhood when his beloved mother passed away leaving him and his six full and 4 half siblings. Again he was struck with an illness that left him bed ridden and again, he overcame the odds.

Thomas Pezolano in his Confirmation photo

He performed many odd jobs after leaving high school in the 11^th grade but decided to join the military in his early 20's. He was sent to Camp Wheeler when his number came up at the age of 23. Again he was struck by illness. The outfit he trained with was deployed without him. They were all killed in action. And once again he was spared, as God wasn't finished with him yet.

2nd Platoon Co. A 8th Battalion
Camp Wheeler, GA 10/25/41.
Tom is in positioned in the bottom row 5th from the left. 

He was transferred out of the jungles of Panama to join the signal corp. I remember him showing me as a child his ability to translate words into Morse code. He received a star for intercepting the signal of a submarine which was later sunk.

After 4 years, Tom ended his military career and took two years off. He then worked at the post office in a variety of positions before being promoted to dispatcher. He married Gloria, my grandmother, when he was 32 years old, she was seven years his junior. Despite their tumultuous relationship, they share two children, Maria, my mom, and my Uncle Thomas.

Tom, or Gramps, as I called him, loved the Lord and attended church regularly. Much of what I knew of my early faith I learned from him. He would show me with his actions what was expected during each part of the service and I would emulate him.

He was short and stout but was always warm. He'd grab my hands in his and warm them for me when I was cold. Even though his religion didn't teach it, he would lay his hands on me and pray for whatever it was that ailed me. He was stern but loving grandfather. He enjoyed fishing, playing cards and gardening in the years after he retired.

He had been suffering silently with an illness for a while, perhaps figuring since he'd beat so many before he would also be able to beat this one. But it wasn't to be and Tom passed away at the age of 67 when I was 15 years old. Although I'm sorry he wasn't able to see me get married or to meet his great grandchildren, (one of which carries on his given name),  I know that he's been watching from above and I look forward to getting a bear hug from him when we meet again.