Memorial Day
It’s been a month since my last podcast where we spoke with Florida Congressman Bill Posey. I’ve had a lot of family stuff to deal with which I will get to later. But I wanted to get this out by Memorial Day because it is such a powerful transitional holiday, and I am definitely in a transitional point in my life.
Memorial Day is special for many reasons. In the northern hemisphere, it signals the change of season from Spring to Summer. Where I grew up in Massachusetts, this meant the end of school, the beginning of summer and a part-time job, summer baseball and hanging out at Hampton Beach. I appreciated growing up with four distinct seasons. Four seasons that are aligned with how observable earthly nature works. Agrarian societies order their lives around these changing seasons. Hi-tech service-oriented societies like the United States, unfortunately not so much.
Memorial Day also signals the end of the school year for most colleges and most southern US high schools. This is a time to congratulate millions of young adults who are moving on to the next “season” of their lives. For those HS grads, there is so much promise. Expectations are high. The thought of moving out of their childhood home, and the scrutiny of their parents, is both exciting and scary for those going on to college. For most kids, this means going from a smaller pond to a much larger more diverse ocean. It means finding roommates they hope they are compatible with. Choosing classes, making new friends. Choosing a major course of study. I am so grateful to have been able to celebrate this rite of passage last week with my daughter Emma who is headed to the University of Michigan this fall.
Some students know exactly what they want to do for their careers and so hop right into pre-med, pre-law or STEM studies. I think most people entering college have no idea of what they want to do. Like me, they think they know what they want only to find in a year or two, that neither the course of study nor the school were a good fit. C’est la vie. Besides so much research shows that determination, discipline and grit, are far more important than your college alma mater in predicting life outcomes. College has unfortunately become somewhat of an extremely expensive reputation building exercise, rather than a character-building exercise. In the words of Ralph Fiennes character, Harry Oxford, advising his son in the first Kingsman movie, "Reputation Is What People Think of You, Character Is What You Are."
The official Memorial Day holiday was created to remember veterans who gave their lives for their country. My uncle, quartermaster Mario Fini who died in 1945 in the Battle of Tokyo, was one among 1,345,664 other American soldiers who died in battle over our history. For our family, we also remember my wife Kati’s brother, Satellite Beach Police Officer Phillip Jeffrey Flagg, who died in the line of duty in 1992, at the age of 23. He was the brother-in-law I sadly never knew who surely would have been a great father and husband and uncle.
From now on, I will also remember my mother, who passed away a couple of weeks shy of Memorial Day this year. Those who knew her understood she was a simple woman dedicated to her faith and family and who always thought of others before herself. There’s no doubt that raising six kids focuses you pretty intensely. And Mom always rose to the challenge. Whether it was carting kids to baseball and football, or band practice and ballet, Jane was always on duty. And not just her children. There always seemed to be a combination of kids from the neighborhood. The Fitzgerald’s, Edes, the Ware’s, the Cote and Fini cousins. We all filled that Chrysler Town & Country station wagon, the biggest one made by any car company at the time. I remember Jane laughing when I suggested that we get a Partridge Family bus like the one Shirley Jones drove for her five kids in the 1970’s sitcom.
Seemed like everyone had big families back then. It really did take a village to raise children. Those moms and dads were often the first generation of their immigrant parents like the Fini side of our family, where my father was the youngest of eleven. Child rearing was a group effort with Momma teaching the older kids who helped take care of their younger siblings. So, it was with our family where the older ones looked out for the younger ones. My sister Cathy took on that role with our younger sisters. And meals were often some combination of kids from friends and family. And I remember the other moms returning the favor when Jane needed it. Yes, it took a village and Jane Fini was part of that village.
Jane was born in Leominster MA on June 12, 1937, to Lester Cote and Catherine Sullivan. She tragically lost her mother when she was eight years old, and was lovingly raised by Lester, his sister Lillian, and Lester’s second wife Dorothy. As Dad tells it, he first saw Mom driving by a home renovation job site where he was working, and asked his buddy who she was. He said, “That’s Jane Cote, and she’s a good girl.” Back then that was code for, “Don’t get any ideas pal.” As the father of a teenage daughter, I am trying to imagine a 21-year-old guy, my father’s age at the time, showing up at my door to take out my 16-year-old Emma. I think my reaction would have been something like, “Hello young man, come on in and let me show you my gun cabinet.”
I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for some of those early conversations between Herb and his future father-in-law, Lester. My Aunt Lil, who helped raise Mom, was always a little suspicious and those early years were probably tough sledding. But a persistent Herb Fini knew that Jane Cote was worth the effort. A true diamond. Lester was a self-made entrepreneur who high-valued hard work and he saw that in Dad, and so he eventually blessed the relationship.
But what really probably sealed the deal for Mom was being introduced to the extended Fini family where she developed a special relationship with her mother-in-law Cesira. She saw that incredible example of a devout woman of faith dedicated to her large family, and the joy of having that family all around her. Jane was welcomed with open arms by all her excellent Fini in-laws, especially Giovanni and Cesira, who we said goodbye to years ago in the same church where we said goodbye to mom last week. Tradition is good.
In addition to being a dedicated housewife who raised 6 kids, Jane was also a registered nurse. Professional caregiving perfectly fit Mom’s gentle and caring nature. After graduating Newton Wellesley School of Nursing in 1957, she served in the operating room at Leominster hospital for 3 years until she had to focus on her growing family. After spending 23 years raising her children, she began a second career as the head clinic nurse for Digital Equipment Company in Westminster for 13 years, a job she truly loved. While her famous fudge was always in demand at family functions, she hit the big-time at work where a thousand employees clamored for her confectionary delight. Like most moms, Jane loved the holidays, but I think Halloween was her favorite. As a young woman, she was always a sucker for a costume party, and she continued that with her kids. The Fini children always had well thought out costumes that she labored to put together. However, for years I was mad at her for dressing me up as Aunt Jemima one Halloween. The abuse I suffered at school the following week was legendary. I know you can hear me. Mom, I forgive you.
Mom’s instinct for sharing and giving also was not limited to her family. For years she served in the Catholic Women’s guild organizing church fairs and teaching catechism. When we lived in our first family home on Sunnyhill Road, she convinced my father to dedicate one of our three acres, to a needy neighborhood family, who were subsistence farmers. Those tomatoes never tasted so good. In her adopted home of Vero Beach FL, she was a dedicated member of the Military Mom’s Prayer Group. Finally, Mom was a simple woman. She didn’t want jewelry or flowers, or any fuss made about her. Instead, she gave, and gave, and gave, sacrificing her needs for others in need wherever she found them. She will be sorely missed but we know that she is sending us all “Love and Prayers” from Heaven.
To me, Memorial Day is all about perspective. Looking back to the past with reverence and gratitude to those who sacrificed themselves for others. Soldiers, police officers, and mothers. This willingness to put the needs of others before your own is a positive characteristic of most cultural and religious traditions. It is absolutely fundamental to the Christian faith I try to follow, albeit quite imperfectly. In fact, Christianity was the first, and really only religion, that puts personal sacrifice for others as the most important characteristic. Jesus preached that this was the only pathway to Heaven and he provided the model for the work. I still marvel how nearly impossible this standard is for humans. In many ways, it’s contrary to the rules of evolution themselves which dictate self-interest in the face of endless competition is how species survive. Adam Smith extrapolated this biological rule to economics as he described the workings of the “invisible hand” of millions of people working in their own self-interest to create efficient markets.
Despite this reality, our ancestors discovered 200,000 years ago that self-interest had to be balanced with social-cooperation in order for humans to survive and prosper, rather than tearing themselves to bits. The great insight of Jesus, and other prophets, is that selflessness itself channels the divine. It’s easier for us to just call it Love, that elusive but all-powerful force for good in the world. The Star Wars “Force” versus the “Dark Side.” And make no mistake, there is a Dark Side. We can see it all around us with war again raging on the European Continent for the first time in 80 years. We see it when teenage boys, raised devoid of nurturing mothers and fathers, devolve into the dark recesses of mental illness, and massacre their classmates. The Dark Side drives the burgeoning rot in our social institutions that seems to make enemies of the very cultural characteristics that made America the most prosperous, diverse, generous and tolerant nation in human history. Those that insist on defining America only by its shortcomings, are ignorant at best and minions of the Dark Side at worst.
Like the four seasons of Nature endlessly repeating, human history traces the cycle of birth, maturity, old age and death. History is a cycle of spring, summer, fall and winter. My observation shows that it repeats every 80-100 years, the length of a long human life. When the older generation dies, so does the institutional memory of critical lessons learned. My Mom and Dad are part of that older generation. Forgetting history, we younger generations just repeat the mistakes of the past. Sadly, I believe we are at the beginning of another winter season. As a born and bred New Englander, I know that winters can be long and things get harder. Like Bob Dylan, I fear that “a hard rain’s gonna fall,” and most people are not ready for it.
And so, it’s ironic that I am writing this article away from my Florida home, at my sister’s Massachusetts home, in COVID quarantine with my 89-year-old father, just days after my mother was claimed by the same disease. I’m sure this was a parting gift from her after we spent a week with her in the hospital intensive care unit. The COVID experience has been a two-year slice of the Dark Side on so many levels. But like so many facets of human existence, we will just learn to live with it, without letting it define us. Humans generally, and Americans specifically are essentially optimistic. We never give up hope because eventually winter gives way to spring. A time of re-birth, of hope and love. This kind of optimism was who my mom was. It was fitting that my last words to her, were sung while strumming a guitar at her gravesite.
I have a dream, a song to sing. To help me cope with anything.
If you see the wonder of a fairy tale. You can take the future even if you fail.
I believe in angels. Something good in everything I see.
I believe in angels. When I know the time is right for me.
I'll cross the stream - I have a dream
I will close with a famous Bible passage from 1 Corinthians 13:4-8.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.
Happy Memorial Day everyone!