Memorial Tribute

Honoring Spc. Sarah Beckstrom’s Final Sacrifice

by Dennis Augustine

Today we honor Spc. Sarah Beckstrom and SSgt. Andrew Wolfe — both attacked while carrying out their mission in Washington, D.C. Spc. Beckstrom passed on Nov. 27, her grieving father tenderly holding her hand in her final moments.

SSgt. Wolfe continues to fight, and we lift him in prayer as we hope for a full recovery.

Their courage reflects the very best of our Guard. And according to federal watchdog agencies, no matter how dedicated our personnel were, there is simply no world in which 80,000+ evacuees could be fully vetted during a total collapse. Our heroes were standing watch in the aftermath of decisions far beyond their control.

Today, flags were lowered to half-staff as the WVNG paused for a moment of silence to honor their service and embrace their families in grief. May Sarah’s memory be a blessing, and may we stand united against this cowardly act.

A Thanksgiving of Love, Loss, and Remembrance of Family Members

by Dennis Augustine

This Thanksgiving, my heart turns to the loved ones who were part of, or shaped my life but are no longer with us.

I’m remembering my mom Maria (2013), my dad Frank (2017), my brother Michael (2019), my niece and Goddaughter Selina (2023), and my Uncle (Zio) Lillo from Sicily (2025) at the age if 92. I also hold close the memories of my earlier uncles—Anthony, Joseph, Carmine, Eddy, and Nino, Aunt Mary, Aunt (Zia) Cettina, Nona Giuseppa, Nono Concetto (my Sicilian relatives)—whose presence lives on in our family stories. I aso included a photo of my-brother in-law's late mom, Sally McAllister with Cecile and my mom, my late inlaws, Margie and Harry Weiner.

Holidays bring both warmth and a quiet ache. Today I give thanks for their lives, their love, and the imprint they’ve left on all of us.

The late Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese monk, world peacemaker, meditation teacher, and writer of matters of the spirit, wrote: “If you look deeply into the palm of your hand, and within the depths of your heart, you will see your parents and all generations of your ancestors. All of them are alive in this moment. Each is present in your body, mind, and spirit. You are the continuation of each of these people.”

May their memories be a blessing on this Thanksgiving and always.

For My Late Brother Michael — A Trip of a Lifetime

by Dennis Augustine

November 1st has always carried meaning — All Saints’ Day on the Catholic calendar — the day my brother Michael took his life on our brother-in-law Joe McAllister's birthday.

When I think of my brother, I choose to remember the light, not the loss — especially our 2006 three-week camera safari that took Michael, Joe, and I to Kenya and Tanzania. I had invited him to join us, telling him, “Why don't you join us — I’ll take care of everything.” What a gift that journey became for all of us. Under the vast African sky, watching the start of Wildebeest migration in the Mara River, and looking out on the vast Serengeti Plains, we shared laughter, stories, and quiet awe. The wild became our cathedral; the sunrise, our prayer.

Michael passed in 2019, just shy of his 61st birthday. After being cremated, his thoughtful eldest son (my nephew) Michael Augustine Jr., gifted me an elephant amulet containing some of his father’s ashes — so I could take him with me on my bike rides. A way for us to keep traveling together in spirit.

Forever remembered. Forever united. Forever on the journey.

November 10, 1958 — November 1, 2019

Honoring My Namesake — St. Francis: Patron of Peace, Nature & Compassion

by Dennis Augustine

Today, on the Feast of Saint Francis of Assisi, I honor the gentle saint who saw every creature as a reflection of divine love. Born in Assisi, Italy in 1181, Francis renounced wealth to live simply, embracing peace, humility, and care for all living things.

He taught that faith begins with small acts of goodness:

“Start by doing what is necessary, then what is possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible.”

Raised Catholic, I’ve always felt a special connection to him — Francis is my baptismal name. His message still feels timeless: kindness to all, harmony with nature, and peace within ourselves.

Remembering Jane Goodall & Our 2006 Visit to the Sweetwaters Chimpanzee Sanctuary

by Dennis Augustine

Yesterday we lost Jane Goodall — a pioneer whose compassion and groundbreaking research forever changed how we see chimpanzees, wildlife, and ourselves.

Back in 2006, I traveled with my brother-in-law Joe McAllister and my late brother Michael Augustine on a trip of a lifetime through Kenya and Tanzania. One of our unforgettable stops was the Sweetwaters Chimpanzee Sanctuary, founded in partnership with the Jane Goodall Institute, Ol Pejeta Conservancy, and Kenya Wildlife Service.

Sweetwaters offers lifelong refuge to orphaned and abused chimps rescued from West and Central Africa — giving them a second chance at life, something Jane tirelessly advocated for.

Her passing is a reminder of the power of one life dedicated to protecting others. Her legacy will continue to inspire.

A Sea of Flowers in Front of Annunciation Catholic Church Part of A Shared Grief Experience in Minneapolis

by Dennis Augustine

“I stood before a sea of flowers the likes of which I had never witnessed, and felt privileged to be a small part of it.”

Cecile and I arrived in Minneapolis today at the start of our preplanned vacation. After checking in, I felt compelled to take an Uber to pick up a bouquet of flowers and bring them to Annunciation Catholic Church, the site of the recent tragedy.

I wanted to pay my respects to ten-year-old Harper Moyski and eight-year-old Fletcher Merkel, two innocent lives lost, and to honor their families along with the many survivors who now carry both wounds and memories forward.

Placing my bouquet at the central shrine, I joined countless others who had come before me. The atmosphere was solemn, hushed, and communal — strangers united in grief and compassion. By less than a half hour, I missed Vice President JD Vance and Second Lady Usha Vance, who had also come to pay respects.

Because a violent act desecrates a Catholic sanctuary, a purification rite must be performed before services can resume inside. For now, all tributes remain outside, where the memorial — a sea of flowers, candles, and prayers — bears witness to faith, loss, and love.

May Harper and Fletcher rest in eternal peace, and may their families find strength in knowing that their children’s memories are being held in hearts far and wide.

Selina’s Heavenly Birthday & a Poem in her memory

by Dennis Augustine

On September 23, we remember with love my niece and goddaughter, Selina Marie McAllister, who would have turned 42. Her middle name, Marie, honors my late mother, and her life was a shining thread in the fabric of our family.

Selina who faced some difficult times had a heart full of wonder—she loved horses and unicorns, symbols of freedom, beauty, and grace. Though her time here was far too short, her light continues to shine through her parents, my sister Josie and her husband Joe, and in all of us who carry her memory.

“Some lives are too radiant for this earth—Selina’s spirit reminds us that love never dies, it simply changes form. She rides now among Heaven’s horses and unicorns, her joy eternal.”

Unicorn Wings—A Poem in her memory:

On Heaven’s fields she runs so free,

With horses wild by crystal sea.

A unicorn waits, its horn aglow,

Guiding her spirit where angels go.

Her laughter drifts like morning air,

A gentle sign she’s always there.

Though earth feels empty, Heaven sings,

Selina rides on unicorn wings.

In Loving Memory of My Sicilian Uncle Lillo Micalizzi

by Dennis Augustine

English and Italian Translation]

I first traveled to Roccalumera, Sicily, as a toddler, and returned many times as a teenager and an adult — often with my mom, and later with Cecile and our children, Jason and Michelle. My mom was Uncle Lillo’s older sister, and through her I was blessed with countless memories of him.

Zio Lillo proudly served in the Italian Navy. In his life at home, he worked for a doctor who was also the mayor of Roccalumera, and later he oversaw the town’s water district. But for me, his greatest role was being my uncle — a man who filled my youth with adventure, laughter, and love.

I rode on the back of his Vespa scooter countless times — through the Sicilian foothills, the countryside, past orchards where we picked fresh apricots and fruit. He taught me how to drive his Vespa when I was just 13, and he took me to Taormina, where he introduced me to spearfishing. He took me for gelato, we played billiards, and he taught me scopa, a traditional Italian card game. His jokes made me laugh, and his spirit left an impression on me that will last the rest of my life.

His beloved wife, my late Zia Cettina, was a wonderful woman — a loving soul and a gifted cook. Together they raised two beautiful daughters, my dear cousins Lorena and Giapina. It was Lorena who messaged me to share the sad news: “Dad is no longer with us.”

Uncle Lillo lived a full 92 years, and he leaves behind a legacy of love, laughter, and family. May he rest in peace. Our heartfelt condolences go out to my cousins Lorena and Giapina, and to the entire family, as we hold them close in our thoughts and prayers.

ITALIAN TRANSLATION:

In memoria del mio zio siciliano Lillo

La mia prima volta a Roccalumera, in Sicilia, è stata da bambino, e poi sono tornato molte volte da adolescente e da adulto — spesso con mia mamma, e più tardi con Cecile e i nostri figli, Jason e Michelle. Mia mamma era la sorella maggiore di mio zio Lillo, e grazie a lei ho avuto la fortuna di condividere con lui tanti ricordi preziosi.

Zio Lillo ha servito con orgoglio nella Marina Militare Italiana. Nella vita quotidiana lavorava per un medico che era anche sindaco di Roccalumera, e in seguito si è occupato della gestione dell’acquedotto del paese. Ma per me, il suo ruolo più importante è stato quello di zio — un uomo che ha riempito la mia giovinezza di avventure, risate e affetto.

Ho viaggiato innumerevoli volte sul retro della sua Vespa — tra le colline siciliane, la campagna, passando per frutteti dove raccoglievamo albicocche e altra frutta fresca. Mi ha insegnato a guidare la sua Vespa quando avevo solo 13 anni, e mi ha portato a Taormina, dove mi ha introdotto alla pesca subacquea. Mi portava a prendere il gelato, giocavamo a biliardo e mi ha insegnato a giocare a scopa, il tradizionale gioco di carte italiano. Le sue barzellette mi facevano ridere, e il suo spirito ha lasciato in me un segno che durerà per tutta la vita.

Sua amata moglie, la mia compianta Zia Cettina, era una donna straordinaria — amorevole, bravissima in cucina e di grande cuore. Insieme hanno cresciuto due splendide figlie, le mie care cugine Lorena e Giapina. È stata Lorena a scrivermi un messaggio per darmi la triste notizia: «Papà non è più con noi.»

Zio Lillo ha vissuto 92 anni intensi, lasciandoci un’eredità di amore, risate e famiglia. Che possa riposare in pace.

Le nostre più sentite condoglianze vanno alle mie cugine Lorena e Giapina, e a tutta la famiglia, mentre li teniamo vicini nei nostri pensieri e nelle nostre preghiere.


Happy Father’s Day Weekend in the Heavenly Realm, Dad & all the Amazing Dads Still with Us

by Dennis Augustine

My first memory of my father was on a cruise ship crossing the Atlantic. It was August 1953. I was three years old, living in Hoboken, NJ, when I boarded the Saturnia, an elegant Italian ocean liner named after the ancient Tuscan town of Saturnia. With my beautiful mother, Maria Augustine (née Micalizzi), and my handsome dad, Frank Augustine, we set sail for my mother’s birthplace in Sicily to visit my grandparents, aunts, and uncles.

It was the first of many unforgettable journeys to the “old country” that I would take through my adult life. Though my mother was nine years younger than Dad, she passed on Mother’s Day 2013 at the age of 88. My father, on the other hand, died of natural causes just shy of 101.

This weekend, I light a candle for you, Dad, for Father’s Day with love and gratitude. Thank you for the memories, I miss you always. And to my late, beloved brother, Michael Augustine—a wonderful father who left us too soon—I wish you, too, a Happy Father’s Day in the heavenly realm.

Let us keep the flame alive for all the fathers and father figures who are no longer with us—but whose spirit still guides us every day.

In Loving Memory of Sarah Milgrim & Yaron Lischinsky: Murdered on American Soil for Believing in Peace

by Dennis Augustine

Sarah, a Jewish peacebuilder from Kansas, and Yaron, born in Germany to a Christian mother and a Jewish father, and living in Jerusalem were deeply in love. They worked at the Israeli Embassy in D.C., dedicated to peace and understanding. Yaron planned to propose during their upcoming trip to Israel. Instead, they were murdered—gunned down after attending a Gaza humanitarian aid and relief event.

Their story resonates deeply with me and my wife, Cecile—also an interfaith couple. Like us, Sarah and Yaron believed in building bridges and embracing multiculturalism. Their love was a symbol of what America stands for: coexistence, faith, and freedom.

This attack was not just personal—it was political. The murderer echoed slogans lifted straight from campus protests that created the climate for his murderouus rampage. As journalist Batya Ungar-Sargon noted, this is the “university-to-intifada pipeline.” The chant “Globalize the Intifada” was no metaphor. This is what Globalize intifada means.

Yes, free speech is sacred. But should Jewish students be forced to hear the same chants used by a terrorist after killing two people for being Jews—or standing with them? The answer must be no.

We owe Sarah and Yaron more than grief. We owe them truth, clarity, and the courage to call hate what it is. May their memory be a blessing—and a call to conscience.

#SarahAndYaron #PeaceBuilders #StandWithJews #NeverForget

With gratitude to Batya Ungar-Sargon for her insight and moral clarity.

A Memorial Day “Tribute to Those who Served” in California reminded me of a fallen hero from my hometown of Hoboken, New Jersey

by Dennis Augustine

During a flag ceremony, procession, and service at the Madronia Cemetery in Saratoga, California, I stood beside my friend Bill Rothenberg. We were asked to rise and recite the “Pledge of Allegiance.” As I did, I couldn’t help but think of Private First Class “Tony” DeLuca, a proud son of Hoboken, New Jersey. Tony was an Italian-American known for his big heart and bravery. He was born in 1949, (a year older than me), and was the only son of second-generation immigrants who ran a corner deli on Washington Street, not far from where my late parents lived.

Tony was known for his loyalty, his swing-dancing skills at Sinatra Park on the Hudson River overlooking New York City, and his dream of opening a small record store with his cousins. He played shortstop for Hoboken High and never missed Sunday dinner with his Nonna, who made the best meatballs on the block.

When his draft number came up in 1969, Tony didn’t flinch. He told his buddies at the VFW bar, “It’s my turn. I’ll represent Hoboken proud.” He served in the U.S. Army, 1st Cavalry Division, in Vietnam. Letters home spoke of monsoon rains, jungle nights, and the brothers he served alongside. They always ended with, “Tell Ma not to worry.”

On April 4, 1970, during an ambush in the A Shau Valley, Tony, a 21-year-old, tragically lost his life while helping evacuate wounded comrades. His body was returned home draped in the American flag, and the entire town gathered to pay their respects. Firemen in dress blues, old neighbors with tears in their eyes, and children on their fathers’ shoulders lined the streets as Tony was laid to rest at Holy Name Cemetery in Jersey City.

Tony never had the chance to open that record store or dance at his sister’s wedding. However, his memory lives on, etched on a plaque at City Hall and deeply ingrained in the hearts of a community that still whispers his name on days like today.

Rest in peace, Tony. Your sacrifice will never be forgotten.

#MemorialDay #HobokenHero #NeverForget #PFCAnthonyDeLuca #AmericanHero #HobokenRemembers

The Solitary Nun Who Said Goodbye to Pope Francis & Images of His World Wide Travels

“It is not enough to just open the door in welcome…we must go out through the door to seek and meet the people.”

—Pope Francis

In the heart of the Vatican, near the coffin of Pope Francis, stood one solitary figure within breathing distance of the casket, head bowed, hands trembling around her rosary beads, a pilgrim of love and grief, no one dared to move—Sister Genevien Jeanningros.

Wearing a simple navy garment and a blue handkerchief, she wept quietly, a small well-worn backpack on her shoulders, saying goodbye not to the Pontiff, but to Jorge — her beloved friend of 40 years. Light from a high window spilled down like a silent blessing, touching her and the coffin.

Pope Francis affectionally called Genevien: "L’enfant terrible” because of her dedication to helping marginalized groups. From the Order of the Little Brothers of Jesus, she lived her life among the poorest, the rejected, and the forgotten—transgender women, the homeless, festival workers.

Every week, she brought them to the Vatican’s general audiences to see Francis, and then, in turn, welcomed them with open arms, meals, and love. On this day, the Vatican guards stood back in reverent silence. They did not see a nun breaking protocol—they saw a life lived in fearless compassion, devotion, and friendship. In that sacred moment, Sister Genevien didn’t say goodbye to a Pope. She said goodbye to her brother in mercy—a soul who, like her, believed the poor and the outcasts should sit at the center of the feast.

P.S. While the cardinals gather in Conclave (see the film on the big screen if you haven't already) it’s hard to imagine they’ll find another Pope who will make himself so deeply available to the people worldwide (see photo images).

Pope Francis the People's Superhero Launching a Slingshot of Love-His Final Legacy

by Dennis Augustine

This mural is not by reclusive artist, Banksy — it’s actually by an Italian street artist named Maupal (real name Mauro Pallotta). It became famous because it shows Pope Francis (depicted in a whimsical way) using a slingshot to shoot a red heart. It portrays Pope Francis as a “superhero” who “attacks” the world not with violence, but with love and kindness actively spread.

This art went viral when it first appeared near the Vatican around 2014, and many interpreted it as celebrating the Pope’s more accessible, gentle, and reform-minded approach.

When this mural first popped up near the Vatican in early 2014, instead of being offended or calling for it to be removed (as you might expect with official religious imagery), the Vatican actually embraced it!

In fact, the Vatican’s official communications account, @Pontifex (their Twitter account for the Pope), tweeted a photo of it, saying something like “We found this great street art near the Vatican. See how much love Pope Francis inspires.”

This was a really rare event — governments and religious institutions usually remove unauthorized street art quickly, but they saw it as a positive, lighthearted reflection of the Pope’s real influence: spreading compassion and action instead of judgment or rigidity.

It also fit well with Pope Francis’s image as a leader who wanted to connect with everyday people in new ways, focusing on love, humility, and charity.

A Personal Tribute & Farewell to Pope Francis: A Legacy of Love Close to Home

Francis is my middle name, chosen for St. Francis of Assisi — the same saint Pope Francis honored when he became pope in 2013, the year my mother Maria passed away at 88. The timing always felt like more than a coincidence. She adored him.

I was raised Catholic, attended Our Lady of Grace in Hoboken and St. Michael’s High in Union City, and over the years visited the Vatican. I’ll never forget seeing Pope John Paul ll with Cecile, Jason, and Michelle address the public in Audience Hall in 1993. I brought home rosary beads for my mother blessed by the Pope. The time before that I got a glimpse of Pope John XXIII when I was just 13.

Referred to "The Pope of the People," Francis brought heart and humanity to the papacy. He made 49 journeys around the world to be in the company of people.

His words—“If a person is gay and seeks God and has good will, who am I to judge?” It felt like a turning point. He led with compassion, not condemnation. He also said: "Be like St. Augustine"—my family name—and reflect on the story or the interior of your life.

Rest in peace, Pope Francis. For 12 years you led with love and you'll always be remembered!

Postscript: Potential succussors to Pope Francis are many and include Charles Maung Bo (Myanmar) who was made cardinal by Pope Francis in 2015.

Remembering Joel Eagan: Artist, Cyclist and a Tragic Loss of Life

by Dennis Augustine

Cecile received a sad message the other day from Charlene, a childhood "distant cousin” to let her know about the tragic passing of her 54-year old son, Joel David Eagan. According to the "Red Rock News,” Joel, a talented local artist and photographer, was fatally struck by a Lincoln Navigator SUV In Sedona, AZ., while riding his bike home from the library on Friday evening, February 7, 2025.

At the time of his passing, Cecile and I were in Charlestown, SC visiting her sister Sherry. As I look back, I recall seeing a “ghost bike,” spray painted white, a

often used as a memorial tribute to a person who succumbs to a fatal bicycle accident. According to bicycling.com ghost bikes can be found in at least 220 cities around the world on five continents.

The last time we saw Joel, he was a young boy, who payed us a surprise visit from Idaho, on the back of his dad’s motorcycle. Cecile’s Nana Esther was visiting from Chicago at the time. As a cyclist myself, I felt as mournful about Joel as I did the man who died in Charleston. I imagined their lives and their horrible deaths, and the people they left behind. Apparently, Joel wasn’t wearing a helmet and there were no lights on his motorized bike. It is a poignant reminder of the fragility of life and the importance of road safety. Yet, even with all proper precautions, there are no guarantees.

Joel’s artistic vision captured the beauty of landscapes, from Sedona to Telluride, Maui, and Puerto Rico, reflecting his deep appreciation for nature's wonders. He was a talented artist, photographer, and cherished member of the Sedona community for over 24 years.

Cecile and I extend our heartfelt condolences to Charlene, his siblings Julie and Babs, and all who were touched by his art and spirit. A Celebration of Life for Joel took place at Oak Creek Brewing Company, in Sedona, AZ., on March 1. May he RIP!

Celebration of Life: In Loving Memory of our Neighbor & Friend Howard E. Green the Beloved Son of Holocaust Survivors

by Dr. Dennis Augustine

Howard or Howie, as he was known to his friends, was Cecile’s and my next door neighbor. He died peacefully in his sleep, with his beloved golden lab, Cassie by his side on Friday, October 18, at the age of 70.

This was one of the most heartwarming "Celebration of Life" ceremonies Cecile and I have ever attended. Howie loved to cheer on the Yankees as a kid growing up in the Bronx, NY, and rooting for the SF Giants with his son Michael when he moved to California. It was also said, that "music filled Howie’s heart, books sustained his brain, and great wine soothed his soul." And boy did he have a collection of them all. In line with the generosity Howie showed in life, we were encouraged to consider helping ourselves with any of the books, record albums, and wine displayed in the room as a memento. Howie would be so happy to know we enjoyed it.

It’s often been said that in our day-to-day interactions, we see only parts of someone's life, the roles they play with us directly, like being a friend, neighbor, mentor, or colleague. We rarely have a full picture of their entire journey, accomplishments, and the depth of their relationships with others. These gatherings often reveal layers of their personality, the scope of their kindness, and the impact they had on the world that we might not have witnessed directly.

Born on March 28, 1954, in the Bronx, NY, Howard came from humble beginnings. His parents, Adele and Bernie Green, were Holocaust survivors who immigrated from Poland. They instilled in him a strong appreciation for the freedoms and opportunities America had to offer. His brush with death as a young adult encouraged him to live each day like it was his last. He was a proud graduate of Cornel University where he would forge friendships that would last a lifetime.

After graduating from Cornell in 1975, Howard attended the UCLA Anderson School of Management where he got his MBA in Marketing and Budget. In the early 1980s, Howard moved to Silicon Valley at the start of the high tech wave. He spent 10 of his 40-year career at Apple where he spearheaded initiatives that led to explosive growth in accounting software, videoconferencing, and speech recognition. Notably, he helped lead the launch of Apple’s FaceTime, as well as Apple Speech.

Howard is survived by his wonderful son, Michael, whom he adored, and daughter-in-law Jules, his beloved granddaughter Ayla, and his dog Cassie. May he RIP! He will be missed.

Happy Heavenly Birthday: Chasing Away the Monsters for Dad While He Was at Death's Door

It was November 18, 2017, my wife Cecile and I flew in from California to New Jersey to visit dad. At a 100-years old his life was beginning to slip away. He was lying on the living room sofa which is where he slept since our mama Maria died on Mother's Day 2013. All the family were present, including my nephews from Texas. Some were taking turns sitting by his side. At one point dad’s hand was gripping my wrist tightly, almost as if he feared letting go would mean slipping into the unknown. His eyes, once so steady and reassuring appeared dim and vulnerable.

It reminded me of my childhood, when I’d had nightmares, convinced the boogeyman or monsters were hiding in the closet or under my bed. The monsters weren’t imaginary anymore—they were real, and they loomed over him like shadows. I sensed it in the way he clung to my wrist, the way his breaths became shallow and uneven, as if he was holding on to life with all he had left. “It’s okay,” I whispered softly, adding “You don’t have to be afraid. You can let go.”

Suddenly his breathing grew softer, more peaceful, and the tension in his face melted away. In that moment, I understood what James Blunt meant in the song “Monsters, he wrote when his dad was dying." The fear of dying, of letting go, was like the monsters from childhood—terrifying. Fast forward to 2024, James Blunt’s song “Monsters" sung by American Idol contestant and season 21 winner, 18-year old Hawaiian-born Iam Tongi whose dad died months earlier. It had brought me back to that day my dad firmly held my wrist, its lyrics echoing in this moment that brought the judges, and American viewers like myself to tears:

“I’m not your son, you’re not my father. We’re just two grown men saying goodbye. No need to forgive, no need to forget, I know your mistakes and you know mine…So daddy, won’t you just close your eyes, don’t be afraid, it’s my turn to chase the monsters away.”

Dad passed away on December 18, 2017 almost three weeks shy of his January 5, 2018 birthday with my sister Josie Augustine-Mcallister by his side. The following week he was honored by the Elks Club #74 at Failla-McKnight Memorial Home In Hoboken, NJ, and as a veteran he was honored at Holy Cross Cemetery in North Arlington, NJ with a solo Taps American bugle call and Flag Folding Ceremony with the folded flag presented to Josie. Happy Heavenly Birthday Dad. We were blessed to have you so long.

A Veteran's Salute to my Dad & Other Family Members Who Served their Country & My Nephew Andrew WhoCarries the Torch for the Old Generation

"A veteran, whether in active duty, discharged, retired or in the reserves, is someone who, at one point or another in his life wrote a blank check made payable to the United States of America, and are deserving of our debt and gratitude"

Most of the photos of my late dad, Frank Augustine were taken in the rotunda, at the Justice Brennan Courthouse in Jersey City, NJ on April 15, 2014. They were photographed by my brother-in-aw Joseph McAllister, a veteran of the United States Navy. I would like to also thank him and other family members including my late cousin Nick Girone, and his surviving son, Carmine Girone Jr., for their service as well as all veterans who have come and gone or are currently serving our country.

My sister Josephine and I were fortunate enough to be at our late father's side when he and 80 other veterans received Military Service Medals Citation Certificates for their years of service. In addition, dad received a Proclamation from the office of the former Mayor of Hoboken, Dawn Zimmer. The event was a joint effort by the Hudson County Executive, Thomas A. De Gise, the Office of Veteran Affairs, and the Hudson County Board of Chosen Freeholders.

Dad had followed the footsteps of my Uncle Joe and my Uncle Anthony Augustine and was stationed at San Antonio Texas (See B&W Photo). Dad served under the command of his mentor and friend, Army Chaplain Capt. William Walsh and served as his personal aide until September 15, 1938. His last stint was at Walter Reed National Army Medical Center Bethesda, Maryland.

The photos of the handsome young man in the cockpit of a fighter jet is my nephew Andrew Augustine, a career Air Force veteran who is stationed at the Okinawa Island Naval Base, in Japan with his wife Kaylyn who is also a veteran and their beautiful daughter Ayla. As an F-15 Crew Chief and Air Force Sergeant, Andrew is responsible for making sure these jets are battle ready. He has been recognized by his exceptional performance, valor, fidelity and patriotism. He does the family and country proud. Thank you for your service Andrew! We are all proud of the man you have become.

Postscript: Andrew has a tattoo of an image of a army tank with the word FRANK on the barrel of the gun in honor of his grandpa Frank whom he fondly called "Frank the Tank,” because my dad liked to rhyme the names of his kids and grandkids.

Remembering My Late Brother Michael on the 5th Anniversary of His Death with a Poem

(Nov. 10, 1958—Nov 1, 2019)

It’s been five years since Michael left us for the heavenly realm on November 1, or “ALL SAINTS DAY on the Catholic Calendar.” His patron saint was St Michael the Archangel. Sadly, he was only nine days shy of his 61 birthday, about two years since our dad died, and five and half years since our mom died. He loved being an altar boy in his youth at Our Lady of Grace Church, just a block away from the five-flat our parents owned on 5th Street (between Garden and Bloomfield) in Hoboken, N.J. He also loved being in the Boy Scouts, loved his work as a construction team leader with the Shauger Group, and he loved his family, especially his boys (my nephews): Michael, Jr., Andrew, Brock and Alex, whom he was very proud of.

In loving memory of Michael, I would like to post some poetic verses by Ullie Kaye that I adapted from her poem called:

“I don’t Say Shhh to Grief.”

I don’t say shhh to grief. I let myself stay sad for as long as my heart tells me to.

I hold it in my hands and give it a soft place to fall and a safe place to stay…

I don’t say shhh to grief. I let it walk with me and talk to me. I say, let’s talk about your laugh [he had a wonderful laugh]

I don’t say shhh to grief. Instead I let myself remember. Because remembering keeps us closer; and closer is

is sweeter, and sweeter is better.

I don’t say shhh to grief. I don’t walk around it like a puddle, because although grief is messy, I want to go right through it. I need to let myself feel how it splashes in my face just like the wildest storm mixed with a warm embrace.

I don’t say shhhh to grief. I say, come spend the day with me. I say, I am still learning. I say, I love you, and the world was better with you in it.

POSTSCRIPT: The Silver Amulet Elephant resting on the shoulders of the angel (see photo) was kindly gifted to me by my nephew Michael Jr. It contains some of my brother’s ashes. Rightfully so, he thought I could take the essence of my brother on all my bike riding adventures which keeps me spiritually connected.

Happy Fathers Day in Heaven to My Late Dad & the Neil Young's Classic Song "Old Man” Seems to be a Fitting Son's Tribute

(see video clip link!)

Neil Young’s 1972 song “Old Man” classic helped me take a renewed look at my relationship with my late dad, Frank Augustine, who lived to be 100. This classic, reflective, nostalgic, and introspective song explores the similarities and differences in perspective between a young man at the beginning of his life journey, and and old man who is closer to the end of his. It shows that the two men, despite having vastly different circumstances in life, ultimately have much in common. The lines “Old Man" look at my life, I’m a lot like you were” highlights this connection. Many like myself discovered that this song helped them navigate their relationships with their own dads.

As I grew older I noticed similarities between my dad and I, and began to recognize that no matter how different I believed we were, there will always be a sacred thread and bond that connects us. Like Young, I experienced early success, lived in a “paradise” but was still searching for something more, something that "can't be lost like a treasured coin that won’t get tossed away.” That ultimately came as I focused more and more on total acceptance and unconditional love of my dad. In later years, I worked hard to get him recognized by city, county and state officials, and the Office of Veteran Affairs and Senior Citizen community in New Jersey for his many contributions to his community and his country.

Happy Fathers Day to all Fathers and Father Figures!

Postscript: Neil Young—Old Man (Live) [Harvest 50th Anniversary Edition] (Official Music Video link)

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