In late September, my father, Anthony Michael Santone, passed away from natural causes at the age of 86. He lived a life of love and dedication: love for family, friends, and food; and unwavering dedication to his career to provide his children and grandchildren with opportunities he never had.
My father not only gave me life, he made the life I have possible, including the privileges of private school and never wanting for anything. Yet this came with the powerful lessons he taught about success: Be thankful for your talents and apply them with integrity. Aim high—not just for yourself, but for those you love. And when you reach the top, do not throw up your arms in triumph; instead, bow your head in gratitude and reach out your hands to lift others up.
He taught this in the most powerful way possible: by modeling. His life exemplifies the “American Dream.” He was born in Philadelphia to Italian immigrants. His mother had a third grade education; his father had none and worked as day-laborer before enlisting in the US Army and fighting in France during WWI. Eager to succeed in this country, my father latched onto learning, mastered English in grade school and enlisted in the Army after high school. He served stateside in the area of bridge construction and logistics, showing such skill that he was tapped to teach at West Point despite his junior rank.
He met my mother, Sylvia Glasser, in 1958 at a resort in the Pocono mountains during a weekend leave. Seeing her there with a friend, my father whispered to his wingman, “I’ll take the short one.” My parents dated long distance--she lived in Manhattan--and they married in 1959, after he was honorably discharged. His Catholic family and her Jewish one embraced each other. Different faiths were never a barrier to love.
After the Army, he entered the private sector in the transportation industry, and took a job in the Chicago area when I was 4, working his way up the proverbial ladder and retiring in 2000 as a Vice President. Along the way, he garnered numerous business awards and testified before Congressional commerce subcommittees. Although he did not complete a degree, he developed and taught transportation courses at Prairie State Community College.
Knowing the struggles of building a career, he used his experience to mentor others. Need career advice? Call my dad. Looking for a job? He’ll introduce you to someone.
His undeniable drive was fueled by one desire: to provide the best possible life for his family. Lacking a degree himself, he vowed to send his children to college and then helped secure his grandchildren’s. He supported whatever direction we kids wanted to take, even (in my case) when he didn’t understand the path.
His generosity extended to friends and the community. He volunteered at church and was first to lend a hand. My parents were epic entertainers, preparing elaborate Italian feasts for holidays, special occasions, or just because. My parents welcomed not only their friends, but mine and my siblings’ as well. Festivities went on for hours, and the evening wasn’t complete until you’d downed a shot of flaming Sambuca and he’d stuffed leftovers into your pockets.
The center of his life was family. My parents’ love was deep and enduring. They never stopped courting each other and would have celebrated sixty-one years of marriage this year. Italian to the core, my father was a man of big emotions, fierce and tender, easily moved to tears of joy for something as small as a good report card.
As I come to terms with the loss, I look back at all he did for me. But I also look ahead to use all he gave me to carry on his legacy of success, best defined by love and generosity.