The Things Joe Has Taught Me

Spending the last hour with my kids scanning over these photos and stories has me flooded with so many stories about my relationship with my father-in-law Joe...too many funny ones to count.

Tomorrow, the calendar turns to March, so let me take you back in time, Sophia Petrillo, Golden Girls Style... Picture it, Greenwich Village, March 2005, I was a 22, soon to turn 23 year old, skinny but somewhat handsome (I guess) part-time Florist living in Staten Island with my parents, but I made it much cooler than it sounds, trust me.

I was also in my second semester of graduate studies working towards a degree in social work. Trying to recover from what felt like interminable lectures on psychoanalysis, I was getting prepared to tackle the inaugural class of Evidenced Based Practice, when in walked this girl. At that moment, time seemed to stop, I thought to myself, who is that, she's cute? As luck would have it, she sat next to me and in that moment, my somewhat cool life living on a forgotten island with my parents was indelibly changed.

Falling in love with Emily was the easiest experience of my life; falling in love with her family was equally as easy. I first met Joe and the rest of the biomass as it was comprised at the time on Easter 2005. Any nerves I had meeting the family were easily abated by a martini and by Joe telling me stories of Italy and teaching me how to correctly pronounce my last name, by accentuating the vowels... "Colonnahhh". For good measure, I tried to impress Bigi by talking about a hypnotherapy book I had just read. That was the start of my relationship with Emily's dad, who three years later would become my father-in-law; he also would become my friend, boss (I worked at CPNJ for a few years) and kitchen confidant.

Joe has taught me countless lessons...how to prepare and appreciate aperitivo...how to turn a bunch of tomatoes into the best tasting sauce I've ever eaten... how to smoke a cigar (though I still can't cut the cigar with my teeth like he can, I end up ingesting half of it). We didn't have much direct contact at Care Plus but simply by observing him interact with others, Joe taught me the importance of working with integrity, treating everyone on an equal playing field and never turning a blind eye to someone in need.

By observing how he is with his six daughters, his eight grandchildren, and countless other kids in and out of the family, I gained an appreciation for how to be a father, particularly the importance of being honest with your children, even when they resist your efforts. Joe also tried to teach me exercise, but after I hyperventilated and collapsed in the park trying to follow him on a road bike going 25 mph ("vivid man"), he went back to teaching me about martini's, which is what he brought me after Bigi insisted that I needed a recovery drink. When my son Enzo was 5 or so, he asked me why I smoke cigars, without missing a beat, I responded "because pappa smokes cigars", to which Enzo responded, "that pappa, he is a bad influence." The importance of honesty with your children, sorry Enzo, you're wrong, pappa is a great influence.

The thing I love most about Joe is his quick wit; he can always be relied upon to use humor in almost any situation, and that gets me to my funny Joe story. Joe and I have many things in common, GI issues being an unfortunate one. I fell ill during a trip to NJ in 2012 and ended up in the hospital with what I surely thought was a burst appendix or something worse. I ended up in the ER; Emily needed to return to the house to care for Enzo, who was an infant, and Joe, dressed in his cycling gear and a leather jacket took her place. When the doctor arrived to render the diagnosis, which ended up being a severe case of constipation, Joe turned to me and with a look of genuine care said, "I always knew you were full of shit." I took it as a compliment, I still do.

Love you Joe...I'm so happy to be celebrating your 80th birthday with you and I look forward to our next cigar. Cin Cin!