A Tribute to My Favorite WWII Vet - My Grandfather, Frank Naccarato

My first "small" act is a tribute to my grandfather, Frank Naccarato, in honor of Veteran's Day. He was a wonderful man and courageous WWII veteran. Although he died in 2008, I think of him daily and especially today, as he was so proud to have served his country. Here is the eulogy I wrote nearly five years ago...

Today, I have the privilege of honoring my grandfather, Frank, on behalf of the entire family.

It was hard for each of us to capture in writing what he meant to us
because he represents so much more than words can really ever describe.

“Grandpa was a simple man.”
That is how my Aunt Sherri best described him.
And I think that is how my grandpa would have described himself.
And although it is a completely accurate representation, I would have to say…
To us, he was so much more.

He was honest. He had integrity. He was humble.

He never demanded respect; but commanded it through his very presence in a room.
He never lectured about “right” and “wrong” – but you certainly knew the difference with complete clarity when you were around him.

He was Giving.
Whether it was providing coats to needy children in the wintertime or the grocery bags filled with vegetables he’d give away from his garden – or the $2 bills he would hand out to the grandkids - grandpa found great joy in giving to others.

He was Brave and he Loved this Country.

He served four years in the Army Air Corps during WWII and flew 30 missions in a B-24 bomber.
He volunteered to be a belly turret gunner because one of his buddies was claustrophobic. One of our family’s greatest treasures is a small diary in an address book that documented each of the 30 missions.

A devout Catholic, grandpa would always carry his Rosary on those missions.

Once he left his Rosary behind as his bomber taxied down the runway.
He requested – and was granted – permission to go back and get it.

I’ll always remember being in the stands with grandpa at a football game and watching him as they would begin to play the national anthem.

The way he stood up quickly, took off his hat and put it over his heart.
You just knew as a kid that you better do the same.
I never really understood why he seemed to take it so seriously…until we were attacked in our own country on Sept. 11.
At that moment, I understood everything it was that he had fought for.
And why he rose with honor in appreciation of our country – and all it stands for.

He was a man of few words – but his words always spoke volumes.

You always wanted to please him.
You never wanted to disappoint him.
He was a man you looked up to and a man you respected.
He was the patriarch of our family.
He had a major impact on our lives and the lives of others.
And, in his 87 years – he was many things to many people.

To my grandma, Sanda, he was her life-long sweetheart of 63 years.

For many of us, you can’t imagine one without the other.
They married in 1945 and built a life and family together.
Some of our fondest memories are of grandma and grandpa bickering.
It was always in jest and playful at heart. It included things like…

·         the phrase “Yes, Sanda!”

·         grandpa would always have the REAL details of the stories grandma would try to tell (like the actual names, dates, times, places, etc.  you know..the facts)

·         when grandma would say something “smart” – grandpa would stick his tongue out at her behind her back…or to her face. He did that often during his last weeks in the hospital. That is how we knew when he was having a good day.

·         Or, grandpa would say something about grandma. And being hard of hearing (or practically deaf)…grandma would say “What did you say Frank???” “I said you were LOVELY.

In his last days, though, I think we’ll remember their tender moments.

-          Grandma holding his hand and tracing his fingers.

-          The moment they had to cut off his wedding ring after 63 years.

-          She desperately trying to force feed him so that he might get up the strength to come home again.

-          Every evening before grandma left for the night, she would lean down and kiss his lips good-bye.

-          And finally, her coming to terms and honoring his wishes in the end – even when she couldn’t bear the thought of going on without him.

To my dad and my aunts and uncles, grandpa was a loving father. As kids they would wait all week to attend football games with grandpa on Friday nights.

One of Steve’s fondest memories was of grandpa in the summertime when he was a young boy. Back when grandpa was a teacher, they were only paid for the nine months they worked. Each summer they would have to find supplemental work to make ends meet. My grandpa would work all day driving a wheat truck during harvest.

He would go to work early, come home late, and be covered in dust and dirt.

But it never stopped him from driving up to the house, getting out of the car, and immediately playing catch for a half an hour with his kids.

He ALWAYS had time for his family.

To his grandchildren, he meant the world.

Whenever one of us would walk in…he would say,

“How’s my Peshkadetta? How’s my Johnahattu?

He was always at every game, sporting event, play, and recital.

He was there to pick you up from school, buy you your favorite meal, or shuttle you to your next appointment.

I remember him sitting on the floor with Annalisa playing Barbie dolls. He was in his 70s, but he was by far the best “Ken” she ever had.

In his last few months, it really was the “simple” things that my grandpa enjoyed most.

-          Like having the girls over at their house in between skating and gymnastics practice.

-          Or, an unexpected visitor – or group of visitors - at the door to visit.

-          He enjoyed his favorite programs on TV – the Game Show network or Two and a Half Men.

-          He loved morning coffee at McDonald’s with his crew. And I know Mike Hepworth has said that nobody could ever fill grandpa’s seat again.

-          And every now and then – much to grandma’s dismay - he would tell my Dad he needed a trip “down south” to Wildhorse Casino where he consistently lost the $100 grandma had rationed him. Those were the “simple” things he loved to do.

 After grandpa passed, the family continued to gather to plan and prepare for the funeral. We learned new things about grandpa as we went through some of his belongings.

You’d often hear someone say “I didn’t know that about him…”

-          He had received the Distinguished Flying Cross for his missions during WWII

-          He had received a degree in accounting and was supposed to move back to Spokane to start a CPA firm with a friend. That friend became very wealthy I hear. But grandpa chose to become a life-long educator in our community. And I think we are all very happy with his choice.

We also learned of the meticulous planning of his own funeral – down to the songs he wanted played. One of them is Dean Martin’s “You’re Nobody till’ Somebody Loves You.”

When I listened to that song again, and really thought about grandpa…If you could have seen all of the people that surrounded him in his last days…and really his last moments…

I have to say that “you were LOVED” grandpa. You were definitely “SOMEBODY.” And the love we felt from you made each of us the “SOMEBODIES” that we are today.

You had such an impact on each of our lives. We’re glad that you are no longer suffering. And we’re glad that you are exactly where you always wanted to be.

As sure as the stars shine above - we will miss you! We’ll be seeing you grandpa…