Heard in the Cheap Seats

We are having some posting difficulties here at the moment, but my brother Anthony also wanted to share his eulogy from my Mom’’s funeral mass.  So though this comes under my name, this is Anthony’’s post.

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As Christopher already explained, we lost the best woman I have ever met recently.  Even though this site is dedicated to sports, we both decided to share our words from the day of her funeral mass with all of you.  You can call it a tribute, but all I know is that, the love and passion that my brother and I share of sports, has a lot to do with the nurturing of our mother.  She was at every game we ever played, took us to and from the thousands of practices we had for all the teams we played for.  She completely understood our passion then and as adults.  I know she was proud of both of us, and was a constant reader of this site and she will continue to watch over all of us like a guardian angel.  I hope we always make you proud, Mama.

Here are the words I spoke on Wednesday, September 16^th, 2009:

First, I would like to thank Monsignor Shoemaker and St. Ignatius.  Also, on behalf of my family I would like to thank everyone for being here.  The love and support of all our friends and family, not only in the past few days or during my mother’s illness, but throughout our lives is a blessing.  We are all very grateful for each and every one of you.

I think it is fitting that we would be here at St. Ignatius today, since many of my fondest childhood memories involve me playing basketball wearing the red and white Ignatius jersey on my back.  They also involve being in the old Ignatius gym playing on a floor that, to say it was dusty and slippery, was putting it mildly.  None of us could have been fairly called for traveling, since it was physically impossible to come to a complete stop!  I started forming many of my best friendships in those days with people that I am lucky to still call my friends more than 20 years later.  At each one of those memories was a familiar face.  A supportive and soothing voice: My Mother.  Or “Mama” as I always called her. That is a common theme in my life.  No matter what the situation or circumstance, she was there.  Not just for me, but for our entire family.  In the way she guided our family, she taught me the meaning of loyalty and unconditional love.

I’ll be honest, I had a tendency in my formative years to put that unconditional love to the test!  As some of you know. But, she never wavered in her support for me or her belief in me.  She didn’t always agree with my opinions, but she taught me to stand up for what I believe in.  So much of who I am as a man is a direct gift from my mother.  I certainly got myself into enough trouble growing up, but she always demanded that I was responsible for my own actions.  As I stand here today, I can honestly say that I try my best to be accountable for everything I say and do.

As I mentioned before, my mother had an unconditional love and commitment to this family.  She believed in each one of us.  Because of her I built up the courage to move to Los Angeles to pursue acting, even though I didn’t know anyone out there.  When I had doubts, it was that same soothing voice from my childhood that was at every baseball, football, and basketball game or anything that I ever did that comforted me and got me to believe in myself.  The same voice that when, as a young kid I complained that I thought my lips were too big, simply reassured me by saying “Trust me, they will come in handy someday.”  She didn’t always tell me or anyone what they wanted to hear, but somehow it always seemed to be the right thing to say.

To know my mother was to love her.  No matter whether it was as a wife, a mother, a grandmother, a family member, or a friend.  She had that amazing intelligence and sharp wit.  The saying that someone could “dish it as well as they could take it” usually didn’t apply to her because she could dish it so well that it was hard to dish back.  She never lost that West Philly toughness and I loved that about her.  People have always told me that I look like her and that I am a lot like her.  I can’t think of a greater compliment because she was beautiful inside and out.  She was the ultimate host, whether it was down the shore or in Pennsylvania. As my friends can all attest to, it was impossible to come in or out of our house without being fed.  And she did it all with those bright blue eyes and amazing smile that I always loved seeing.

I wanted to share something with all of you today.  Something that was very special between my mother and me.  On Mother’s Day, when I was about 20 years old, I gave my mother a card.  Now, I have never been the best at conveying my deepest emotions, so in the card I simply asked her to push play on the stereo to listen to a song I had cued up.  The song was and is a perfect representation of my relationship with my mother.  I told her to her to listen to the words because they were me saying them to her.  The song was written by Kenneth B. Edmonds, better known as Babyface and performed by Boyz 2 Men for the movie “Soul Food”.  It was one of the few times I saw tears in my mother’s eyes.  I wanted to read them out loud for all of you today.

You taught me everything
And everything youve given me
I always keep it inside
Youre the driving force in my life, yeah
There isnt anything
Or anyone I can be
And it just wouldnt feel right
If I didnt have you by my side
You were there for me to love and care for me
When skies were grey
Whenever I was down
You were always there to comfort me
And no one else can be what you have been to me
Youll always be you always will be the girl
In my life for all times

I have been doing a lot of thinking recently and I believe that my mother saved her greatest lesson of all for last.  In the past few years she showed us what courage and faith were all about.  I know that it was a lesson that I personally needed.  My mother never questioned her faith in God and she was never scared because she knew that was going to a better place whenever the day came.  She helped me believe.  I know that already her and my grandfather are running the busiest and best tasting Italian restaurant in heaven. I will honor her by being the best man for my family and friends that she taught me how to be.  I starting thinking the other day about the fact that I’ll never dance with my mother at my wedding or see her play with my kids.  I started thinking about all the things that our family won’t experience with my mother because she is no longer with us.  And that’s when the final lesson kicked in for me.  She will always be with me and our family for all those moments.  That same soothing voice, and comforting presence.  Just like she has all the days up until now.  I love you Mama.  All the way behind my back.

THANK YOU

As anyone that used to read this blog on a regular basis has realized by now, my brother and I have been completely absent from the Philly sports blogging scene for the better part of this past summer.  This has gnawed at both of us as we enjoy coming on here and spouting off about Philly sports.   Unfortunately, we had some family issues that took priority over the past few months.  Our Mom was in the midst of an extremely difficult battle with Melanoma.  On 9/11, our mom passed away at the age of 59 after her courageous fight .

I have thought quite a bit about posting this to the blog.  It was a deeply personal time for my family and I wondered if opening it up to the public was the right thing to do.  And even now, I’m not sure why I decided to post this here other than to pay one last tribute to my Mom that I miss so much. 

Anthony and I gave the eulogy at my Mom’s funeral.  In looking back at the words I spoke exactly one week ago today I realized that perhaps there was something for everyone to learn.  So in order to honor my Mom’s memory, I have decided to post here the eulogy I gave last Wednesday.  I know that this is way off topic from our stated mission here, and I would understand if you decide to skip right over this post.  After this, we will be back in action and returning to our regularly scheduled programming. 

But until then, here it goes…

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First, on behalf of my family, I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for being here today.  All you have to do is look around this room to get a sense for the type of person my Mom was and how loved she was by so many people.  I know many of you had to come a long way to be here today and my family and I are extremely grateful.

As many of you know, my Mom grew up in West Philly.  We often teased her, lovingly of course, about those roots.  And even though she would hate to admit it, I think the gritty, blue-collar attitude of Philadelphia is something that never left her.

It was evident in the way she preferred to teach us as kids.  You see, my Mom was more of a “lead-by-example” kind of parent.  Aside from the times when she would tell us “do you know what fat chance means?” upon making some outlandish request, or “don’t say sorry, just don’t do it,” we often had to look a little closer for the lessons my Mom was teaching us.  But make no mistake: she had plenty of lessons to teach, she just preferred to live them rather than simply preach them.  

In thinking back, there were a number of times when my Mom used opportunities to teach us important lessons and I thought I would share a few of those with you today.

About 21 years ago when my Mom was pregnant with my sister one of those moments presented itself to us.  At the time, my Mom was driving an Oldsmobile Delta 88.  I don’t know if you are familiar with that car but it was approximately the same length as a Boeing 747.  The thing was massive and in order to make any sort of turn you ultimately had to have 10 feet of car jutting out into the road before you could even see the oncoming traffic.  One of those times, she was trying to make a left-hand turn onto a busy street.  The guy behind her needed to make a right and wasn’t able to go until my Mom turned.  He took it upon himself to lay on the horn for a solid minute to voice his displeasure.  Now remember, my Mom was 7 months pregnant at this time but that didn’t stop her from putting the car in park, walking up to the gentleman’s car and leaning halfway through the passenger side window to politely inform him she didn’t care how much of a rush he was in she wasn’t going to turn into traffic with two kids in the car and one on the way.  In this moment, my Mom taught us a valuable lesson: no matter how much pressure you may feel and even if it is not the easy route, don’t ever stray from what you know in your heart is the right thing to do.

Another important lesson revealed itself when I was in eighth grade.  I was playing basketball for St. Ignatius and we were in a tournament in New Jersey.  As was always the case, my Mom was sitting in the stands cheering me on.  Late in the game, I went up for a layup and came down awkwardly on my foot.  At a timeout, I told my Mom that I was pretty certain I had broken my toe.  In a loving, comforting tone, my Mom responded: “You’ll be fine; get back out there.”  As it turns out, I did break my toe during that game.  My Mom however was teaching me yet another important lesson: when people depend and count on you, never let them down no matter how painful it might be.

Along those same lines, during my years as a lifeguard in Sea Isle I thought it was a wise idea to compete in a six-mile bay row.  Now, if you know anything about my rowing prowess and the fact that my legs couldn’t reach the seat in front of me in the boat, you know this was not a wise decision.  But I was determined.  The race went pretty much as you would expect.  Just about every boat raced passed us and we were left chasing the pack.  But about 5.5 miles into the race, with every boat already finished and daylight in short supply, I heard the sound of my Mom’s voice.  She had walked up a bridge that was over the inlet and was screaming at the top of her lungs.  I’m not sure I would have finished that last ½ mile without her.  But my Mom knew one important thing: you should always be there for your family and friends, no matter how long you may have to wait or how dark it gets.

And my Mom saved perhaps her most important lesson for last.  As she continued to fight during her illness her commitment and courage were unwavering.  And the lesson was clear: a person’s faith and courage is not defined when times are easy.  A person’s true faith and courage is measured when times are tough.  My Mom’s faith never faltered and her courage was limitless.

At times growing up, I could be frustrated by the “lead by example” way of my Mom.  I didn’t understand why I had to search for meaning all the time.  Now I do.  You see, the thing is, because my Mom led by example, I know she is not done teaching us yet—we might just have to listen a little closer. 

Thank you.