The end of this July marks the 50th anniversary of my dad’s untimely death. He was in his 36th year when he died of a massive heart attack while driving to work at Dofasco.

I remember the day, and, for that matter the weekend. We lived in the country, on two acres, a perfect place to hold parties. Our family was planning a family reunion for my mom’s side of the family, the Costie’s. Mom’s sisters were driving from Ottawa with their families, cousins from all over were going to be there that weekend. We had a lot of preparation to do. Dad had to work during the day. I remember working in the yard, mowing and cleaning it up. I remember other Costie family members there helping. When I looked up at the kitchen window I saw my grandmother, my mom’s mom, and my Uncle Vic, my dad’s brother inside. It’s difficult to describe how uncomfortable that made me feel. They were two people you did not expect to see together and Uncle Vic was totally out of place on that day. I knew something was not right.

Uncle Vic, also an employee of Dofasco, was contacted about our dad’s heart attack, which happened just outside the Dofasco gates. He contacted Henrietta and drove her to the farm to talk to mom.

The Costie reunion was cancelled - however in its stead we had a wake. There were some relatives later that tried to recall ‘the party’ not remembering it was actually a funeral. The Irish/Scottish side poured alcohol all night, the Sicilian side learned a new way to celebrate life.

We kids, all ages, hung out in the basement, listening to music and having our own celebration.

Fifty years is a long time. Memories diminish, some never disappear because of the importance to your life, and some grow and change into something else, a ‘mis-remembrance’. These are my memories.

His first home was on Colbourne Street in Hamilton. I remember that house and my grandmother, Anna Leo. I do not remember my grandfather, Antonino, even though there are pictures of me on his lap. Dad had seven step-brothers and sisters (Rosario, Mary, Sarah, Annie, John, Anna, Charlie and Jesse and Joe) and five full brothers and sisters (Sam, Rose, Tom, Vic and Ruth). Some of his siblings were born in Sicily and some were born in Hamilton.

Randazzo’s on Colbourne Street, Hamilton

His nickname was Tootsie and Toots. I’ve asked relatives (that are left) where the nick name came from. One cousin is very sure that it was when he was a baby, Aunt Jesse called him Tootsie because of his cute toes. We’ll never know for sure.

He married my mom, Jane Costie, in September 1956. He was not Catholic because when he was born, our grandfather hated the Catholic Church and became Pentecostal. Grandpa wanted nothing to do with the Pope (another lost story). Dad became Catholic after his father died and we were raised in that faith.

As a child I remember helping my dad with the rabbits, feeding them, making sure the water was running and cleaning the manure run-off under the cages. I still have nightmares about starving rabbits that I couldn’t take care of after Dad died, even though when he died we didn’t have any rabbits left. I remember when we got chickens and having to do the same thing. I remember carting water in from the barn because the well there had much better water than the house, which was highly sulphuric. I remember the septic tank (not fondly). I remember my dad singing in the church choir. His voice was beautiful.

I remember my dad cooking. I wish I was mature enough at the time to learn more about what he was doing. He was an excellent cook. He made his mother’s recipes as best as he could remember them. We make those things now, deep fried smelts, chicken wings, spaghetti sauce with meat and ‘mpignalate. We make them from memory. I remember Dad creating ‘Flako’ his version of the KFC 11 secret herbs and spices. I wish we could find that recipe. He did write it down.

When I travelled to Sicily in 2017, to learn Italian, I participated in a cooking class at a local woman’s home. Her sauce was very much the same as ours. She started with tomato passata, sautéed onion and added sausage, meatballs and pancetta. We did the same except we had pork hocks instead of pancetta. The base flavour profile is the same. We’ve added other things over time, (mushrooms, peppers, fresh basil) but the basics are there. I believe some our grandmother’s recipes changed from traditional Sicilian dishes because of the scarcity of products in Canada. We used canned tomatoes and paste for the sauce because there was no passata. That came later in Italian stores. In Sicily they make a beautiful orange and fennel salad. Our dad made an orange salad - fennel was not a popular produce back in the 40’s and 50’s.

Dad had many nieces and nephews, some 30 years older than me and to be expected with 14 siblings. We saw some more than others. Some lived in the USA. Everyone loved the farm. After dad died we remained close with our Uncle Sam and Aunt Vera.

My dad’s nieces and nephews (some of them) and us kids.

Patti, niece Linda Patti, Paula, Jane, Mary, nephew Brian Patti, Tiger (Dan Jr) and Dan. At Brian Patti’s confirmation.

There are many times and occasions where I missed my father. When I got married in 1978, brides were still walked down the aisle by their fathers. Some still maintain this tradition now. It was while planning our wedding I got panicky about how was I going to walk down the aisle? By myself? Unheard of. Do I choose an uncle? I was standing next to my brother, Dan and my mom realized he was taller than me. My brother walked me down the aisle.

My wedding day with my brother Dan standing in for Dad.

I also missed him very much when Taylor and Jamieson were born. And my first Christmas in our first house on Liberty Street. Those aches and pains come when you least expect it.

I’m very sad that my father never got to Sicily and never got to see where his parents came from. The first time I visited Sicily (2007) I felt like I was meant to be there. Something deep in my DNA was calling for this place. I wish that I had asked more questions about his family. There are only two of his fifteen siblings left and we have lost so many stories.

In the spring of 2022 I hope to get back to Sicily for another visit. I’ve put this trip off for two years because of COVID.

Next year I will be celebrating my 65th birthday in Sicily. I’ve asked my siblings to join me. It’s a deeply personal quest for me and I want to share the parts of Sicily that I love. It’s a visit about family, history and where we come from. It’s our journey to remember our father.

Danieli ~ Tootsie~ Paul Randazzo - October 28, 1935 - July 31, 1971.

Self Isolation in My Studio