by Dennis Augustine
Eight years ago today, December 18, 1917, my siblings and I lost our father, Frank Augustine. I was in Maui then—as I am now—when my sister Josie McAllister called with the sad news.
Dad passed peacefully in our childhood home in Hoboken, NJ, just three weeks shy of his 101st birthday. He lived a life shaped by faith, service, and quiet devotion—to family, country, and community. From the Civilian Conservation Corps and the U.S. Army, to decades of involvement in the Catholic church, scouting, and as a life member of Elks Lodge No. 74, he believed in giving more than taking and leaving things better than he found them.
The Atmos clock circular pendulum pictured here—his most prized possession—no longer moves. It sits frozen in time, yet I still love looking at it. Not as a measure of passing minutes, but as a reminder that what truly matters doesn’t tick away. Some things—values, love, memory—remain fixed, steady, and enduring.
Here in Maui, with the ocean’s rhythm and the soft hush of the trade winds, I feel dad close to me. Christmas was his favorite time of year, a season of light, reflection, and hope—fitting for a man who gave so much of himself to others.
Time moves on. Legacy stays.
May his memory remain a blessing.
