Today is Father's day. I lost my dad when I was eighteen years old, but I remember him with great clarity and fondness. My dad, bar none had one of the kindest hearts on the planet. He was generous to the fault and there was not one thing that this kind good man did not give to his four kids. I was the only boy among three sisters, (Lorie, Rosemary and Annette) a female dog (dear Happy) and a constant barrage of female cats. I think what allowed me to love him so much was the fact that his kind heart was one of the biggest good heart (next to my dear mother) in miles. No matter how poor he was, no matter what the difficulty was, (even when he was out of work) he gave us kids every thing we needed. There was never a Christmas Eve that was unhappy. There was never a birthday that was forgotten or treated economically. Now truth be told, my sweet Mother was responsible for a good deal of this, but my dad seldom complained to her-- and trust me, he could have easily! My dad was a house painter. Back then all that was used was oil based paints meant when it rained, the painter was usually out of work for several days! Oil base paint was also tough for a painter because turpentine was really hard on human lungs when it was breathed in over a long period of time. Nothing else would clean those paint brushes! Turpentine effects on his lungs and a bad heart is what eventually did him in. I remember that day with such detail! But on the talent side of the equation, My dad could match any color of any wall, of any rug, of any sample of any desired color. He could mix colors with such talent, one could sit there and watch him and be absolutely mesmorized. When he painted your house or apartment it was done with precision, time, craft and impeccable talent. He'd re-paint the house if it wasn't perfect for no additional charge. There were no paint sprayers back in the 1960's. Rollers were just beginning to be used and were very expensive. My father was a man of honor and integrity. Quite literally, Louis Ricciardi couldn't have told you a lie if the devil was standing on his foot! But he was also funny, warm, kind and witty. At the time that I lost him, I was just beginning to know and appreciate him. My God, how I still miss him, today! My dad was also an artist. His paintings were incredible and wonderful. Each painting he made told a definite story with true personalities in all the characters of his paintings. My favorite painting of all was the one of thirteen French nuns in full habit in the last century who have walked four miles to have a picnic in the woods on a very warm spring afternoon! The painting depicts the nuns ready to eat their picnic lunch after their long hike from the convent! The table cloth is spread out and everything is out and ready and waiting! In this painting, the older nuns were responsible for bringing the "sensible things" like plates and silverware and linen napkins. The oldest nun has brought the wine and the wine glasses. The Mother Superior representing 'wisdom" brings the salt and pepper shakers. Now picture if you will the faces of all thirteen of these great nuns as they discover that youngest nuns (the postulents) have forgotten to bring the picnic lunch, itself. The looks range from surprise to laughter to shock and severe disappointment. There is pure consternation by the Mother Superior, herself! Somebody is going to do pennace for this little screw-up. The painting was absolutely classic! But he also painted so many other things; there were sunsets, Italian Villages, Italian Women doing the wash in the middle of town plus portraits of my various relatives. He loved animals and he loved life. I am quite sure that my dad was one of the greatest characters of all. He loved his wife. He loved and adored his kids. And we truly loved him. But one thing for sure: the twentieth century completely befuddled my poor dad. Traffic angered him; being late truly annoyed him and unethical behavior made him cringe. He loved books, libraries, art and culture. He loved to listen to recordings made by Enrico Caruso. He would listen to these recordings over and over again. But oh man, what I gained from my dad. I love great art. I love great music and I am the same hopeless romantic that he was. He loved to sing while my mother played piano. Between and because of the two of them, I am the songwriter that I am today! Oh do I miss him. I thank God for giving me the greatest parents in the world. But my dad will always have a special place in my heart. Wherever you are my dear father, I love you! Now and forever. It was his promise that he kept (to send all of us kids to Catholic school and raise us as Catholics) that allowed me to have my relationship with God and for that alone I will hold him dear always. So dear "Luigi Pasqualli" here's to you. My glass is raised high to your memory and my heart is very grateful. I love you, dad! Now and forever!