Dad on his 80th

I wrote this to commemorate my father's 80th birthday.


DAD ON HIS 80th
By Henry David Rosso
You were born in 1917,
And Buffalo Bill Cody died,
But you had nothing to do with that.
And the United States entered WWI,
Again, not your fault,
You were being saved for the next one.

1917 was a time of turmoil
But by the time you were 16
Amelia Earhardt had flown the Atlantic
And when you were 21 Douglas "Wrong Way" Corrigan
Flew from New York to Dublin,
But he didn't mean to.

When you were born, Wilson was president
You would see Harding, Coolidge, Hoover,
Roosevelt, Roosevelt, Roosevelt and Roosevelt,
Truman, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon,
Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush and Clinton.
Two died in office, one was killed and one resigned.

You were born into the first World War,
The war to end all wars. But it didn't.
You fought in the second and brought some of it home.
And you lived through Korea and Vietnam
And that little skirmish in Grenada,
And America's own Blitzkrieg in the Persian Gulf.

But you lived to see The Wall go up,
And come down,
And Reagan's Evil Empire dissolve.
Map makers have been kept busy these past 80 years,
And your high school and college geography books
Would be unrecognizable now.

But, I digress and must backtrack,
Because this isn't about the world around us,
But the world of Henry August Rosso,
Who in his quiet, determined way created his own world
In such a way that others wanted to be part of it,
And all who knew it benefitted because of it.

The 1930s were years of growth.
In that decade the Empire State Building was erected.
But you interviewed survivors of the Hindenburg fire,
And surprised Albert Einstein with an interview
The year you graduated from Princeton High School.
And you put out the "Local Express," expressly for locals.


You ended the 30s at 22 and in the National Guard.
The Forties put you in uniform,
And you started to see the world.
Along the way, you married, got yourself wounded,
Became a father three times, all boys,
And graduated from Syracuse University with honors.

The Fifties added a daughter to the mix,
And life in Syracuse that I remember as always
Being filled with people who always appeared
To be having a good time in your company.
It was a growing time for all of us,
And you filled the years with rich memories.

As you grew, we grew and shared part of your growth.
I remember the stops at the newspaper as you --
And once I -- dropped off releases;
The Red Feather campaign and the Christmas tree sales.
I even lent my voice on those cold Syracuse nights,
Like a carnival hustler urging folks to buy a tree.

The Fifties were good years,
And they were good because you let them be,
And you helped them be.
They are memories of the New York State Fair,
Of you going on trips and coming home with gifts,
Almost always a book for me, such as "Death Be Not Proud."

There were the family trips,
To the Adirondacks and the Catskills,
To the New York countryside to gather limestone rocks
For the Lancaster Avenue front yard,
The cookouts in Syracuse parks with neighbors.
We were always packing into the car to go somewhere.

You were musical and you passed it on.
None of us was forced to fit the stereotype,
But all of us grew up loving music.
My first taste of opera was listening to
The live Met broadcasts in a barber chair in Syracuse.
I was five.

Susan tried the violin and organ,
Michael the trumpet, French horn and voice,
Jim the classical guitar.
I took up drum and played everything in sight but drums.
I felt equally comfortable with Elvis and Puccini.
And it all came about because it was there.

At the end of the Fifties, you packed us all up
And opened our lives to California.
One of my fondest memories is breakfast at dawn
In the grandeur of the Redwoods.

No cookbook can ever duplicate the taste
Of bacon on an open fire and Redwoods and sun streaks.

The Sixties were years of turmoil for the country,
And they were years of turmoil and separation for us.
We were all coming of age and straining at the binds,
But not quite ready to cut them.
Love entered the picture for us, as well as
Our own wheels, our freedom and lust for more.

One by one we spread our wings
And made our mistakes.
I remember when I thought I could beat you in a fight,
While knowing that I would never raise a hand against you.
The country was changing
And we were changing with it or wondering why not.

You were changing too,
From employee to being your own boss,
Your own company, your own future,
Your own destiny.
You spread your own wings,
And you affected people wherever you went.

You are genuinely liked and admired.
Your smile is infectious,
Your ability to listen is honest,
The wonderful thing
About what you have done with your life,
Is that you were and are the catalyst.

You are quite a man.
I have benefitted by you.
I have learned from you.
I love you.
I admire you.
I respect you.