Missing Dad on Memorial Day, 2009

Lt. Col. John F. Padula, Jr.

January 8th 1933 - December 21st, 1976

Dad was born in Chicago, Illinois, the 2nd son of John F. Padula, Sr. & Rose Pedote Padula. He was the first person in his family to graduate from college. His father had a 3rd grade education and his mother completed 6th grade. Dad's early dreams included professional baseball or perhaps the priesthood, until he met Carolyn Nancy Boucher on the train traveling to college.

Dad served in the Marines and then went to work for pharmaceutical company, Pfizer Inc. He missed the life of a soldier and joined the Army retiring after 18 years of service as a Disabled Vietnam Veteran. Dad served two tours in Vietnam. He requested the 2nd tour of duty.

He was Chief of Personal Services with the First Division in Vietnam [ The Big Red One ]. Dad was awarded two Air Medals and the Commendation Ribbon and the 5-Cluster Bronze Star. He attended the Command and General Staff College in Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas and served on the Joint Chiefs of Staff in Washington.

My father loved to fish & boat on Lake Marion at Santee where he purchased our vacation home. He bred bulldogs and showed and owned several champions. Dad was a fierce competitor on the hand ball and racquet ball courts, and in life. He loved the horse track and placed many a winning bet. He'd study those race sheets for hours. There wasn't anything he couldn't fix - he seemed to know it all - electrical, mechanical, building, etc. He made painting the house, cleaning the boat, and yard work a family activity. He had a "green thumb" - my garden's harvest doesn't come close to what his yielded. Dad was a lover of photography and home movies. He took pictures all the time, everywhere we went and even around the house.

He demanded only the best from himself and his troops; i.e., children. None of us were perfect, but that didn't stop him from attempting to make us all perfect. Being surrounded by his loud noisy family eating home cooked Italian food was his greatest joy, second only to fishing. He never passed up a party & hosted plenty himself. Dad loved to cook and made Italian sausage so hot when you ate it you'd sweat and tears would drip from your eyes.

He loved his wife and children and bestowed nicknames on all of us. I saw my father cry only twice in his lifetime. One, when his Uncle Phillip passed away. Two, the day my little brother, Michael, was born.

I believe if my father were still alive . . . . .

He'd be all over the WWW and FaceBook posting a million pictures & videos of his grandchildren. He loved "new" technology - we were the first family on the block to have the silver Christmas tree with the color wheel; the first people I knew to own the "new" video game "Pong". He'd most likely have an ipod, flat screen TVs, digital cameras, the iPhone, a wii, and every new techie gadget that came out as soon as it was available.

His grandchildren would all have learned to cook, fish, bet the horses, and water ski under his direction. Each grandchild would have been given a bulldog puppy. He'd be the one to give them their first alcoholic drink, probably at Christmas dinner, "just a sip for a toast". I imagine he would have the grandkids for a couple of weeks each summer at "Papa's Santee Summer Camp" - no parents of these children allowed. He'd tell his grandchildren how horrible and naughty his children were.

John, Tony, Marguerite, myself, and Michael would all have reached perfection in Dad's eyes for the simple fact that we each reproduced giving him exceptional grandchildren. He would tolerate us, his children, and openly love and bestow affection on his grandchildren in a way he never could with his own children.

I often envision Dad organizing the painting of the outside of each of our homes - "we don't hire people to do that!" . . . Supervising moving day as each of his children moved into larger homes. Dad would never have missed a grandchild's kindergarten graduation, b-day party, ball game, race, talent show, award banquet, high school or college graduation. He'd be in the front row, tripod set up and camera flash going off so much it was annoying! And after said event he'd have a full Italian meal prepared and ready to eat.

This Memorial Day long weekend, would be another Papa Padula tradition spent in Santee with the grands [ok, possibly their parents would be invited ] water skiing, tubing, eating fried catfish and whatever else was caught that day. The day would end with an obscene amount of money spent on fireworks & eating too much homemade peach ice cream. Dad loved South Carolina peach season and any kind of homemade ice cream - everyone gets a turn to crank it!

Next big shindig - all the troops would be commanded to embark on a trip to Pelion, SC for the 4th of July Peach Festival!

I believe if only my father were still alive . . . . .