In Memoriom: Mario Trovato 1923-2009

I remember years ago, back in the early 90s, when mom and Rosalie went to Italy. They must have just boarded the plane when dad turned to me and said,
“Mom’s been complaining of the laundry room sink, we’re going to replace it.”
But merely replacing something was never enough for dad, he always thought big—he wanted to improve it, which meant changing out the existing pipes. And while I can’t remember all of the details, I do remember spending two full weeks working in that laundry room, strategizing pipe placements, running back and forth to the hardware store, and at times wishing dad would just give up and call a plumber to finish the job.
Looking back, I think mom, you kept any requests about home repair somewhat quiet, because of dad’s persistence that he could do it himself. But dad was always proud of the fact that he could wear so many hats—scholar, poet, gardener, electrician, painter, plumber, sausage and prosciutto maker. Whatever needed to be done, dad showed no fear.
To the chagrin of the rest of us, dad would undertake projects like remodeling the basement or routing the main drain pipe, or painting the gutters. Being a home owner myself now, I realize some of the motive behind all those tasks—its expensive hiring plumbers, electricians or painters. But I also realize something bigger about all the hats that dad wore—and he wore them up until last week when he told us to bring him a hot pot so he could make himself snacks.
The bigger lesson I take from dad’s hat wearing, though, is his sense of persistence that carried him through to finish every project he started. Looking back to that laundry room, it’s hard for me to tell if dad had any doubts, I suspect he must have, but he never showed it, he tackled the project as if nothing would go wrong. And while things did go wrong, he was never flummoxed by them, never felt as if any snafu could ever really stay in the way of his success.
I’ve come to realize his persistence—in home repair, in writing, in solving a literary or poetic knot or in helping his children or wife through difficult times—had everything to do with his faith in God, with his belief that in always walking with God, he would not fail. It was this faith that gave him the courage to bring his family to America, to complete his Ph.D at the age of 49, to live each day with his convictions intact and to be that beacon that Arturo has talked about.
Along the way, he had moments—we all remember his catch phrase when momentarily stymied by a problem—chimelo fatto fare? but this phrase—translated as who made me do this? or perhaps, who made me start this project?—has an underlying significance. It reveals that dad, while stymied, never questioned the outcome—the doubt was always as temporary as the problem.
Dad’s lesson to us, a lesson he taught us every day by the way he approached life, by the way he modeled all those hats, not, perhaps with ease, but with style and grace. With faith and courage. And with persistence. Is that our outlook determines the outcome.
Dad has woven that same spirit through his children, we carry that on in our lives and pass it on to those who we love. Now in this moment, perhaps we dwell on a loss, but today, and every day after this, let’s celebrate the life of a man who has modeled for us the persistence, courage and faith to finish what we start, to face obstacles not with despair but hope, and to always live with grace and love knowing that our Father is watching out for us.