Jambalaya!

Vincent DiFazio

wordnerd — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 06:00:44 +0000

9/11. Firefighters standing, heads bowed, in remembrance. Tributes. The ringing of bells. Moments of silence. Church services.

All of these are ways I’ve seen and heard in our quest to never, ever forget 9/11.

There’s one more. It’s the 2,996 Project. This is something I have participated in for the past few years, and it is so wonderful to be a part of it. There were 2,996 people – fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, friends, grandparents, partners – that perished on that fateful day. 2,996 people who should never be forgotten.

I have the honor once again of introducing you, by way of tribute, to one of those victims.

His name is Vincent DiFazio.

A man, who by all accounts was a wonderful father, friend, dad. A man who had a great sense of humor. A dedicated coach. In fact, at a memorial mass for him, many of the mourners were boys and girls, dressed in the various uniforms of the teams he coached. “When he wasn’t going to a game or home watching a game he was coaching a game,” said Pattie, his wife.

As quoted from people who knew and loved him:

From his daughter, Gina: “My Dad was the coolest guy around. He worked so hard but would never fail to make me smile. Everything is different without him. I miss your laugh dad and your smile. Whenever i laugh i think of you. NOBODY makes me laugh quite like you did. I love you Dad with ALL OF MY HEART”

“Vinny could bring a smile to anyone’s face,” said his mother, Frances Di Fazio. “He saw the humor in everything and everybody.”

Others who knew and loved him said:

“I remember Vinnie to be so very popular in high school. Such a terrific sense of humor and always upbeat.”

“Vinnie always made us laugh. He was so generous and so easy to be around. There was nothing fake about Vinnie; he was for real.”

“Mr. Difazio was probably one of the greatest dads.”

A man who had such a sense of humor that his mother thought he was “joking around again” on Sept. 11,when he called her from his office at Cantor Fitzgerald in the World Trade Center at 8:55 a.m. and said: “We’ve been bombed again. I’m going to try to get out, like last time.”

He wasn’t joking. And he didn’t get out.

In addition to his mother, wife and children, Mr. Di Fazio was survived by two sisters, a brother, and 12 nieces and nephews.

I never knew this man, this Vincent DiFazio. I know now that he was 43, from Hampton, New Jersey. I know that he was a government bonds broker at Cantor Fitzgerald. Most importantly, I know that he was a father, a husband, and a victim of 9/11.

In this 2996 tribute, I am honored to pay tribute to this man, and to the 2,995 other victims of 9/11. Rest in peace, Vincent DiFazio.

“He was an unforgettable character,” his mother said. Darn right he was. I never met the man, yet I’ll never, ever forget him. Or any of them.

Never forget.

[Source: http://www.legacy.com/Sept11/Story.aspx?PersonID=133601]

Ok, I’ll Post, But You Have To Do Something In Return…

wordnerd — Wed, 19 Aug 2009 15:31:05 +0000

For the past few years, I have participated in an incredibly fulfilling project spearheaded by Dale Challener Roe. It’s called “Remembering the 2,996,” and it involves paying tribute, on September 11, to the 2,996 people who died on that day. Some of you may have read my tribute to Vincent DiFazio in the past, and I’m thankful that I’m getting that opportunity again.

And here’s where YOU come in. We need more tributes. We need more volunteers. If you feel compelled to be a part of this powerful project, please click this link and follow it to the 2996 site. There you can read all about the project and sign up as a 2009 participant. You’ll be provided the name of a victim (or you may request a certain person), and you will also be provided links to other sites that can get you started. Then, on September 11, you will take all the information you have gathered and post your tribute. You can post it to your blog or, if you don’t maintain a blog, Mr. Roe has created a website to record all the tributes.

It is a privilege to help keep this tradition going. I hope that you will consider participating. You won’t regret it.

Wanna Know How Bad I Suck?

wordnerd — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 20:22:35 +0000

I just let two really, really important birfdays pass with nary a word. I mean, I know I’ve neglected many birthdays this year, but this? This is unimaginable. UnTHINKable. My favorite bloggy couple, Biff & Tiff (who met via the innernets, by the way and who made it legal this past January), both had May birthdays, and darn if I didn’t let both of them go by without acknowledging them.

That, my friends, is how bad I suck.

If you are so inclined, please help me make it up to them by dropping by their respective sites and wishing them well. And offering them your sympathies for their choice in friends.

Sigh.

So, Y’all…This Really Happened

wordnerd — Sun, 17 May 2009 05:11:02 +0000

Interesting things can happen when your dog dies.

You all know about Champ. We miss him terribly. But I don’t think the humans in the family miss him as much as Lucky, our black lab, does. She’s miserable. And she needs a buddy. We weren’t ready to invest the time (and certainly the emotion) into getting another dog already, but we’re worried about Lucky. So, it’s been tentative. We look, we stop, we grieve a little. We look some more.

Friday, Mr. Nerd decided to stop at a home near where we live. There had been a hand-lettered sign advertising AKC registered German Shepherd puppies. So he figured he’d take a look.

And here, folks, is where the story gets interesting.

Mr. Nerd pulled into the driveway, where he was motioned where to park by a woman at the front door. He approached the house. The woman apparently (ha!) knew what he was there for. She told him to come in. He followed her in. As soon as they got inside the house, she locked and deadbolted the door. At that point, Mr. Nerd just wrote that off as her being alone at home and being cautious. (Yeah. With a strange man. What-EVER.) She proceeded down the hall. Mr. Nerd hesitated, but given that the puppies were new, he assumed they were in a box in a bedroom. Mmm hmmmm.

They entered the bedroom. Mr. Nerd stood in the doorway, looking around for the puppies. PuppyMama turned and sat on the bed.

Smiled.

Reached over and closed the blinds.

Did you catch that? REACHED OVER AND CLOSED THE BLINDS.

Mr. Nerd retreated. PuppyMama said, “You’re not nervous, are you?”

Mr. Nerd steeled himself, looked her dead in the eye, and said, “I am here. To. Look. At. The. Puppies.”

PuppyMama answers, “Oh. They’re outside.” She left the room, followed by a shaken Mr. Nerd.

“We have three females and one male left. What’s your name, by the way?”

Mr. Nerd gave her a fake name and proceeded toward his truck.

“I’ll be in touch.”

Yeah. Right.

“In raising my children, I have lost my mind but found my soul.” *

wordnerd — Sun, 10 May 2009 13:30:33 +0000

Wishing all of you a very happy Mothers’ Day.

For those that are missing your own mothers, or for those who are missing their children, you’re in my heart today.

For those of you that aren’t mothers (in the literal sense), I wish it for you as well. Because your need to nurture — whether it be pets, plants, the earth, the sick, or other living things — makes you a mother as well.

(*Lisa T. Shepherd)

Enough Said

wordnerd — Thu, 07 May 2009 17:35:10 +0000

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again…

Hell Hath No Fury…

wordnerd — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 15:16:24 +0000

You bastard. You saw me. You heard me. You looked right at me as I started running down the hall (yes, in em-effin’ heels) calling out to you to hold the elevator. You looked right at me, and then you got on the elevator and let the doors close.

I never liked you. I always saw you as an arrogant little pr*ck. In your pricky little car. Or when you rode your bike to work but chose to wear that full unitard getup and walk into the building. But I chose to ignore you.

But now? I’m pissed. And I’ll let you know – eventually – one way or the other.

In the meantime, I’d like to introduce you to my group of innernet friends. They’re brutal. And in my comments, they will assist me in wishing upon you every discomfort. I’m warning you now — this could get pretty miserable.

Okay, friends. It’s up to you. Please enter your punishment/plague/affliction upon this insufferable gentleman in my comments section. Feel free to be creative.

I’ll start.

To the jackass who didn’t hold the elevator, I wish upon you:

A raging case of jock itch with a side order of painful hemorrhoids.