Love Letter to Angelo Mitchell & Others

Our dear family friend Angelo Mitchell was buried a few days ago (just 3 weeks after a Coffee Hour in honor of his 90th birthday, what a blessing!) -- and I wasn't there, except in spirit.  

Angelo (somehow, I cannot call him "Mitch") was our Go-To-Guy -- for a hug, a wooden step stool, a golf game or a story about the past. And he knew a lot about that as a life-long Stockton boy who became a soldier, husband, father and important member of St. Basil's parish. He spent 90 years in and around our town with almost any member of the Greek-American community you can think of, including my grandparents and parents. I simply cannot remember not knowing Angelo and Flossie Mitchell and their daughters (and my pals) Angela and Mimi. Rides out to their house so many years ago on some rural roads was a special treat (and practicably a field trip).

Our parents were great pals over many years, just like many of our foremothers/fathers were. Angela is quick to remind me that my Dad Steve drove her Mom Flossie to the hospital so she could be born because: "Mine couldn't seem to find his boss to ask for permission to leave for the occasion" (traits of honesty and diligence that go way back). She has said that my Dad will always have a special place in her heart for that reason, just like the Mitchell Family has a special place in mine that neither time or distance can erase. 

We cannot bring back our Loved Ones or The Good Old Days. We can only aspire to live up to them. Zoi se mas.

NOTE: I will be in Stockton soon for the Thanksgiving Holiday, so please get your photo albums ready and sharpen you memories of those Good Old Days. And when you are sitting around the Thanksgiving table sharing family stories, please write them down. (You'll regret it some day if you don't!)