Heard in the Cheap Seats

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.