Dear Fred

This next series of blogs will be about and for my dear brother, Fred, who passed away suddenly on July 9, 2010. We will always love, miss and remember him, our dear brother, friend, uncle and teacher. The first installment is a copy of the eulogy I wrote for him.

Caro Fredi

He began his life as Ferdinando Lorenzo DeNicola, in Italy.

My last long conversation with my brother was on his birthday, and it was about intelligence. He was one of the very few I know who value it and can be considered intelligent. We both thought that was our best conversation ever.

My earliest memory of him is watching Saturday morning cartoons. I remember when the Flintstones started, and he very excitedly announced its arrival. My other early memory is sports. I rooted for the Mets just to annoy him; he liked the Yankees. I told him I knew they were in different “leagoos” (leagues). He would steal all my Spauldings to play baseball.

I watch my son Logan at boxing lessons. It reminds me that Fred showed me how to box. Thankfully I never required that skill. And as for football, it is no wonder I dislike it, as he would tackle me. Every time I heard him shout, “Tackle!” I would cringe. And down I would go.

And the irony is that he is the one who fell. Tackled by MS.

He once told me he regretted not being more of a brother to me. I don’t think he could have been a better brother. He was truly my inspiration.

And the inspiration of many, including his students. I recall when Fred told me he saw one of his students as an adult, who told him he never forgot “Mr. D”, his favorite teacher, who taught him so much.

Fred valued reading, learning, and writing, and that’s probably why I became a writer.

Now Fred joins our valued team of spirits watching over us, adding to the intelligence in heaven.

We will always remember burning chocolate candies. Though the three of us kids still cannot recall if it was Easter or Christmas when we invented that. Actually we don’t know who invented it. It didn’t matter; we were a team. And Christmas was when we never fought, the four of us.

I want to tell a story one of his friends, a lifelong friend, recalled last night. He said he saw Fred for the last time a few months ago. They had lunch with another friend. Fred wouldn’t let them pay because, he told them, they were the only ones who befriended him in school when he first arrived here.

That’s Fred.

We love you, Ferdinando.