Happy Birthday, Dad!

   
   The Fourth of July means different things to different people.  To me, above all, it was my Dad's birthday.                                                                     Anthony James Terrico was born in Herkimer        to  Filomenia Terrico and Antonio Bardo on July 4th, 1908.  He was her 2nd son (John was her 1st with Tony Bardo), after 3 daughters (Rosa, Lucy and Mary) with her 1st husband, a railroad man who had died in a crash in 1904-5.  My aunts doted on little Tony, spoiling him rotten, especially after his parents separated.  My father was noted for not ever eating macaroni in any shape or form his entire life.  As a baby he always spit it out and his sisters let him get away with it!  Without his father in the home, Tony ran a little wild and eventually was expelled from school.  His sister, Rosie, saved him from having to go to a reformatory by taking him to live with her and her husband, Dominic George, in Dobbs Ferry, near NYC.  On the whole, Tony was a good student who loved to read...something that stayed with him his entire life.  He had some trouble learning to write Cursive...the letter 'R' was especially difficult for him...so his teacher simply removed one from his name and 'Terrico' became 'Terico'.  (Changing immigrants' names for whatever reason was a common practice by teachers and officials in the early 1900's and was not seen as unusual.)              
   When Tony returned to Herkimer in the early 1920's, he was already interested in boxing.  His trainer considered him 'above average' and expected good things from him.  Unfortunately, Dad had a heart murmur (actually the same malformed heart valve as I had) and because of it, lost his boxing license before he really had a chance to shine in the ring. In 1930 after asking a young (16 yr-old) Josie Molinaro to marry him and being turned down, he left Herkimer again, this time working his way West thru Texas to California.  When WWII broke out he was considered too old for the draft (early 30's) but because he had worked in construction was eventually able to join the Navy CB's.  He participated in the landing at Iwo Jima...initially scheduled to be part of the 12th wave ashore but somehow in the melee ended up in the 4th.  A mortar exploded behind him, wounding him in the lower back and he spent the remainder of the landing at Iwo Jima in the surf on the beach trying to keep his head above water (for which he received a Purple Heart).  Here are his 'dog tags',

Purple Heart and that rusty half circle of metal towards the bottom of the flag is the part of the mortar shell that was removed from him.  (Part was left in.)  He returned home after the war and again asked Josie to marry him, swearing that this time was the last time he would ask.  She agreed and they were married on April 15, 1948, a union that lasted until his death on Oct., 22, 1993. 
  Since we always seemed to be camping on the 4th of July, fireworks, a parade and a bonfire were as much a part of my Dad's birthday celebration as a cake, candles and ice cream. (I won't talk about the bears, mosquitoes, or Adirondack rainstorms!)  We made a big thing about it, too, inviting new 'camp' friends as well as family to our celebrations.  (Our birthday parties at Lake Pleasant Park where our camp was located ended up being held in the barn just to accommodate the invited!!) Our parties lasted well into the night...Dad enjoyed his birthday parties as much as the guests did!  And he was a relatively easy man to buy for:  a box of Phillies Titan cigars or a bottle of Canadian Club whiskey were always welcome gifts. 

Lake Pleasant, Speculator, N,Y,

    Those really were the days!  Happy Birthday, Dad!