Goodbye Pop

I was four years old. My father was taking me, my two older brothers and my sister, the oldest, to an old military training exercise area along the Jersey Coast. The beach was filled with fragments of metal, an old Jeep, likely blown up with artillery now rusting in the salty dunes. Nagging me to put on my shoes as I exited the boat onto the soft sand, of course I refused. I was simply met with an “OK, its up to you.” My dad was a live-and-learn kind of guy. Minutes later a rusty metal edge met my heel and sliced me to the toe. In the panic that pursued, my memory fades, but the story has been retold over the years. My oldest brother Chris, a mere 4 years my senior, was at the helm of an 18 ft starcraft with a wide-open throttle. My father intermittent jerking the steering wheel with one hand to keep us on course to the hospital and the other with a bottle of iodine pouring onto my foot hanging overboard. He didn’t want to get the boat dirty I guess, but at least with four kids and tons of fishing tackle always onboard he had the good sense of keeping a big bottle of iodine in the hatch! The story ends with my brother Chris hopping the fence at Point Pleasant Hospital, conveniently located on the water, and my dad hoisting me over it. I can remember the tugging on my foot as stitches were being sewn, and then fading off.  That’s my earliest memory of my father. And I have to stay it’s a pretty good one, and was only the start of many more to come.

My dad past away this Monday. His death was sudden and unexpected likely due to heart failure. He would have been 75 in May. To help me with closure, I thought I'd share with friends since I know a few of you met him and already shared some kind words, thank you.

My dad’s life was a rich cornucopia of experiences. Early on his parents desired him to be in ministry, he worked in the parts department of my great uncle’s Oldsmobile dealership in Bayonne, NJ and worked his way up to salesman, after tiring of that he started a laundry business with my grandfather in the same town, owned his own hardware store in Toms River, NJ, worked for the railroad, was a boiler operator for the Navy at EARLE, a millworker in Vermont, and built custom wooden sailboats in Massachusetts.  He was married three times, had five kids of his own, and many more through subsequent marriages, and carried friends from past endeavors until the end of his life. People always seemed to gravitate toward him through life as if he had the answers, and if he didn’t people seemed to want to stay in contact as if maybe someday he would.

After a harsh winter in Vermont and a broken thumb from falling on his ice covered driveway he decided to head south, forever. I met him at his house as he was loading the moving van.. “Damn, its cold!” I said. “14 below he replied.” Its midnight. “Maybe we should wait until morning when it’s a little warmer.” I reply. “No, the roads might start to thaw, and then will never get out of here.” As we started up the van, we were leaving behind many fond memoirs, cod fishing in Mass, several of which involved near-death experiences, smallmouth bass fishing on the Connecticut River, Northern pike fishing on Lake Champlain, fishing the red hot largemouth bass bite before, and during, thunderstorms on his local Cole Pond in an aluminum canoe.  There were the not so good memories too. Like the time we set off for Somerset Reservoir in Vermont, a similar trek to Indian Valley Reservoir. We drove so far down a dirt and washboard road we figured we must be lost and turned around only two miles from our destination. My poor backing skills, and some fatherly impatience, resulted in a snapped off lower unit of his 40 horse Tohatsu in a ditch. We left Jamaica, VT around 2:30 am and would be in Florida in less than 24 hours.

It was there, Cape Coral Florida, where I would discover, again through my father, the joys of kayak fishing. He had a pair of 9 foot sit-ins, one red, and one blue, both with white bottoms. He was very patriotic. We would paddle the canals around his house on the Caloosahatchee River in search of snook and tarpon, but always willing to fight a jack on the take, which is the fish I experienced my first true “slayride.” The stories continue, and I will record them for my memoirs and for those of his granddaughter, my daughter Cora. He will not watch her grow up, but has left his mark by making a lasting, and lifelong impression during a visit last May.

It was here in California, off the Carmel Coast that I was able to share with him my love for ocean kayak fishing as remembered here.

http://www.norcalkayakanglers.com/index.php?topic=37760.msg406576#msg406576

My father would always tell me his regrets in life as if to try and warn me, but those choices had made him who he was. He took big risks in life, enjoyed big payouts and suffered in shortfalls where he lost it all. Maybe he didn’t always see it because he was too busy living it, but in my eyes he enjoyed a long and enriched life that has created memories, experiences and character that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

I love you pop,

Rob


Robert Eugene Grasso (1938 – 2013)

I understand. Have to love them, with all their and our imperfections, while they are with us.

Sorry to hear this news Rob. Condolences to you and your family. I lost my mom in Jan and it is tough. I know what it feels like to look back and remember the good times, and the bad.  Hang in there. This may sound bad, but it WILL get easier with some time.
  Rob

Thank you for sharing your memories and story. My condolences to you and your family.

Al


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

Really sorry for your loss Rob...will keep you and your family in my thoughts and prayers...

Sincerely,

Jim

I'm so sorry for your loss.
What a great post though. Wonderful photos and a very interesting write up.

 I would be proud to have that stuff written about me, so good job Diroblo. Your dad seems like he was a heckuva guy.

Sorry to hear about Dad, Rob.  It sounds as if you have a lifetime of memories of him to carry you througth these times ahead.

 

  So sorry to hear of your loss.  My love of the outdoors is directly related to my dad. (R.I.P 8/04/09)

Sorry to hear this Rob. It looks like he left the world a better place.

Thanks to you and your Dad for such a meaningful post to remind us all of things we might forget to savor along the way,

We remember them best, by living our lives well.  Sorry for your loss.

3yrs and some months ago, my Pop left the world behind. Still miss him but the memories stay with us. Sorry it was sudden. Prayers going out for your family and you. Glad you got to play with him while he was here. He is in a better place with family and friends already passed. (Imagine the trouble they are causing )

Dang man, that's tough...I'm getting kinda weepy just thinking about it.
It took a while to feel like I had closure when my wife's mom passed. But this is the type of community that will help you get through it. Just try to remember the good times!

My condolences to you and your family Rob.

Sorry for your loss Rob.