The last several weeks reminded me of the great writer Dylan Thomas who wrote his most famous poem as his father lay dying.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Old age should burn and rave at close of day.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

My father was the strongest man I knew, the Hungarian bull.

A street fighter, as he would say.

My dad’s last fight left him battered and beaten.

Parkinson’s disease slowly took away his ability to move, to feel, to see, and to communicate.

But the disease did not take away his passion for life.

My father did not go gentle into that good night.

He raged for as long as he could against an opponent he could not defeat.

He died just 8 days after we also lost my mother-in-law, Nancy Flanagan. God bless my wife, Megan, and her family for all that they have endured.

At the time of Nancy’s passing, and knowing about my dad’s failing health, my father-in-law said to me that death makes you wonder what it’s all about.

Philosophers have pondered what it’s all about for centuries, and I have thought about it a lot in remembering my dad and his lessons about life.

The son of immigrants, my dad grew up in Bethlehem with his sister, Loretta.

As a child he developed a love for hunting and fishing.

He ran track in high school where he once got impaled by a javelin.

He worked on cars, and nearly died in one in 1962.

He broke a lot of bones in his life.

My dad was a hard worker first for Air Products, where he met the love of his life, and then for decades at Bethlehem Steel.

As a side hustle, he caddied until he was 40.

He rode bicycles and snowmobiles, was deathly afraid of snakes, rooted for the Oakland Raiders, and liked to play the horses.

He talked a lot about news and politics and the weather and theorized about space and space travel. We launched lots of homemade rockets from our backyard.

He was curious about stuff.

He made me curious, which is probably why I became a newsman.

My dad could have been an artist or an engineer if the cards had fallen right. He did, in fact, get a patent for a railroad idea once.

From my dad, I learned a love of life.

Growing up he often woke me before sunrise with a booming voice echoing from the shower.

The only thing louder than his singing was his snoring. (like father, like son)

Singing in the shower is just one of those things that says a lot about a person.

You knew he had joy in his heart.

Joy that came from my mom.

He loved my mom dearly.

They knew each other for 60 years, and they would have celebrated 57 years of marriage this month.

They made a wonderful life for themselves in the house that they built on Spring Valley Road.

My dad loved the outdoors and planted enough trees that our house appeared to be in the middle of a small forest.

He and my mom spent many years cultivating their yard into a garden of beauty.

We had a pool and a deck and he even built a fireplace in the backyard.

It was a great place to be a kid.

One of my dad’s great lessons was giving the people you love something to look forward to.

My mom reminded me of a story of when I was a kid and he bought ice skates for me, my cousins, and himself, so we could go skating in the mountains.

Before allowing us on that small frozen pond, he wanted to test it.

My dad did not know how to skate, so when he tried to skate across the pond he fell on his backside.

And he would get up and try again and fall again.

This went on for 5 or 6 times and finally my mom said, ‘I think it’s safe, Joe.’

I don’t think he ever put on skates again, but we had fun… and that’s the point.

It wasn’t about him, but about giving us a good time.

His great love was fishing.

He had hundreds if not thousands of lures. We had many fishing trips over the years.

One of the more memorable trips was down the ocean to go crabbing with his friend and my Godfather Tommy Domyan.

Now, Tommy had a decent sized boat, but we had a small fishing boat meant for a lake.

On a calm day we might have been okay, but it was cloudy, and damp, and the bay was choppy.

We were not having much success in our tiny boat and at one point a much bigger boat sped by and waved us.

We got soaked.

I remember being dripping wet and having to scoop the water out of the bottom of the boat.

Fortunately, we made it safely back to shore, and we did catch some crabs.

His favorite spot to fish was Lake Nockamixon, where he once had the largest fish in the lake on the hook.

I did not witness it, but that’s the legend we are creating today.

We did catch a few big fish over the years….

and he shared his love of fishing with many friends and of course my mom.

Mom and dad did lots of things together. They honeymooned in upstate New York and in Massachusetts.

As a family we went on many vacations down the shore and once to Canada.

They racked up mile after mile on bicycles…

and spent many winter weekends snowmobiling in the Poconos.

Snowmobiling was a great passion. He loved it.

There’s nothing quite like going out in the snow in sub-zero temperatures and crossing a frozen Pecks Pond at 50 miles an hour.

He loved to go fast.

Once he went so fast, he hit a bump and the snowmobile went one way and he went the other. The way my mom tells the story, he looked like he was snow angel when she found him.

We spent many winter weekends in Kelharts’ cabin and the foot of High Knob.

God bless the Kelharts for some memorable childhood weekends.

That’s where I learned to play darts, learned not all bathrooms are indoors, and that’s also where we discovered our wonderful dog, Snoopy.

Snoopy was a beagle lost in the woods along with another beagle.

My dad had many dogs over the years. Jay was probably his favorite hunting dog but Snoopy had a special place in his heart.

When we found the owner of the dogs, I watched through the kitchen window as he tried to give my dad money for saving Snoopy and my dad started to cry.

That’s how Snoopy joined our family.

Little did we know at the time, but she was pregnant.

Before we knew it, we had 6 dogs. 6 beagles that barked a lot.

My love for animals comes from my dad. We had dogs, cats, hamsters — including an escape artist named Peter who once burrowed himself in a wall.

We even had a rabbit… piece of advice — you should never buy a rabbit for a girl at Easter.

Dad taught me to make a difference in the lives of all creatures, big and small.

He taught me to be kind and supportive.

When my mom’s dad died and my grandmother had nowhere to go, he invited her into their home for 17 years, making her final years comfortable, happy, and memorable.

My dad, like all of us, was beautifully imperfect.

One thing my dad hated was change or taking any kind of risk.

He never wanted to fly in plane or travel to some far-off place. He liked to stay close to home.

He would be the first to admit he had high anxiety outside of his comfort zone.

But because of who he was, I am who I am.

From my dad, I learned courage.

He taught me to put myself out there, to chase my dreams, and to seize the day.

He may have worried about me, endlessly, but he cheered as I spread my wings.

In his final years, he told me that he was proud of me, but courage is only part of the story.

I could not have accomplished anything without his love and the love of my mom.

I am who I am because of my parents.

I hope that Megan and I have been as good of parents to our kids as our parents were to us.

And kids, I hope that one day you too find life partners as kind and generous as I have found in your mom and our parents found in each other.

So, what is it all about?

I believe it is about Love.

Love.

Love brings us together today.

Love of a spouse, of a parent, of a grandparent, of a brother and an uncle.

Love of family.

Love of friends and neighbors.

Not the love you get, but the love you give.

That’s what matters. The love you give.

And give it your all. And when you think you’ve given your all, give some more.

Because life is hard.

Life is crazy.

Life throws curveballs.

My dad never saw Parkinson’s coming, but every time it knocked him down a little more, he fought back over and over and over again, just like that day on that frozen pond.

My father did not go gentle into that good night because he had love in his heart.

Love for my mom, for me, for his grandkids, for my wife, for you.

Love gives us hope.

So LOVE… to the moon and shoot for the stars…. every day… because tomorrow is not a promise.

Love while you still can.

My dad’s greatest lesson….

It’s a wonderful life when you love someone.

And dad, I will always love you.