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Joseph V. Abbate, Sr. (July 27, 1926-Feb. 4, 2006)

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"My Favorite Picture of my Father"
by Joseph Vincent Abbate, Jr.
The picture that you see to the right, blurred
though it may be and faded over time, is the
favorite picture that I have of my father. Though I
am not sure of the location (or even the name of
the dog in the picture), I do know that it was
snapped some time near the end of World War II.
But even that does not explain why it is so special
to me.
The reason I cherish this picture is because it
shows what kind of man my father was.  It is a
rare and special glimpse into his heart, something
that he did not easily share with others.
Over the course of our years together, my father taught me many
things, all out of love: love of the land, love of God's creatures, love
of our country, and a deep and powerful love of family.  Somewhere
around 1960, he showed me another love as he drove me to Yankee
Stadium where I first saw my "second best hero," Mickey Mantle.  I
shall always be grateful to my father for all of these loves and all of
the joy they have brought to my life.
    Why is this picture special among the many that I
    have of him? That's easy to explain.
            You see, many people saw my father as being
    "cold" or "gruff."  He grew up in a time when men
    did not show their feelings, let alone feelings of
    love. Oh, his heart was large, all right - large and
    filled with love, but sometimes you had to dig deep
    to see it.
Those of us who knew him well will understand what I am saying, for we had the
opportunity to see his love over the years.  And to those who did not know him well,
puppy.  This is his heart on display, and I am proud to show it to the world.

This one's for you, Dad.  I miss you more than words can ever express.

~ Joe, Jr.
    My father loved this country dearly. As a result, he
    quit high school, lied about his age, and enlisted in
    the Army Air Corps where he worked in electronics,
    repairing the radios the radios of our military
    aircrafts. He served in France, Italy, and Germany
    toward the end of the war after the bulk of the
    fighting had ended.
            Several years after returning home, he married
    my mother and began his quest toward the
    American Dream, something that he helped to
    defend along with the other brave people of his era.
            Shortly thereafter, I showed up, and he began
    his new role in life, that of my teacher.
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