Shawn Remembrance Speech

Hello everyone, thank you all for coming and traveling to be with us today, it means a lot and we appreciate you sharing this time with us.
I hope some of you got to enjoy some of this beautifully crisp air this morning. Cool low sixties is the kind of weather dad loved and. It’s unusual for mid April, I like to think he played a part it bringing it here today.
It is hard to decide what to talk about when remembering your dad Most would remember him as an incredibly brilliant physician. Throughout my life, I was told stories by relatives, patients, and friends Amazing stories, to try to convey to me just how incredible he was.
Like the time he saved a 20-something-year-old by catching a lymphoma that multiple doctors and even the radiologist had missed.
Or the time he cured a patient with debilitating vertigo by finding a single hair in the patient's ear canal. As mom tells it, the patient ran into the waiting room cheering that he was cured. They often ... Read morejoked that that day was good for business.
Or the time he met President Bush, and since dad was the observationist he was, noted his pale skin, the fact he was sweating in air conditioning, and decided to check his pulse when shaking his hand. And when he felt an irregular pulse, he informed the secret service. We don’t know if they ever acted on it, but we do know that two weeks later while in Japan, president bush fainted and was later diagnosed with atrial fibrillation.
There is no doubt he excelled in his career, and although he rarely talked about it himself, even as a kid I knew he was someone special. From finding him on 60 minutes on the TV after dinner, or being picked up at elementary school in a limo to meet the mayor, it was obvious that he was doing much bigger things outside of the world of us.
Even when I moved to Florida, one of the first people to insist on taking me and Tara out to dinner was a patient of my dad's. Dad considered his patients his closest friends and they him. And This man, Mr Joe Scamecca,, without ever even meeting us, invited us to eat with his closest family members and friends. We met at a big Italian restaurant, one dad would have loved, and he made it a point to tell us how our dad saved his life and how grateful he was. Joe and dad weren’t just patient and doctor, they were close friends. And we felt that from Joe. He was a Warm and amazing person, and made us feel so welcome and we appreciated that more than he probably knew.
We were always told how great our dad was and how incredible a physician he was. And it was plain to see.
And although it made me feel proud it always left me feeling a little uneasy. Because that's not how I knew him. I knew him as just my dad.
Because he rarely spoke of those things with us. He rarely spoke of work at all really when we were young. When he was home, he was in his work boots, Irish cap, and leather jacket, working outside and coming up with fun things for us to do. Like helping us build giant snow forts out of the plowed snow along the driveway or taking us to ice skate at the Jenkins lake or sledding at Gedney Park. When he was home, he was just dad. And the few times I did go to his office in the city, it wasn't the patients or stories from work that I remembered, it was how his walls and Desk were covered with photos of us. He was our whole world and we were a big part of his too.
I recently read a journal that Dad had kept from about 1979 to 1984. And what it solidified for me were two things, he was never more at peace than when he was outdoors. Most of his journal is written while on hikes in the woods at Harriman Park. And his writing exemplified his fervent observing nature, he was, a true scientist at heart. He wrote entire pages just about the structure of a leaf, or the winding tracks left by deer, or the unusual way a tree grew. He wrote with gracious awe of the natural world around him and it was clear he was in harmony with those woods.
The second thing I learned was just how much his life was dedicated to his family. Writing entire pages just about Matt’s smile or Ashley’s clever nature.
And those two things I know to be true. As that's how I knew my Dad. Some of my most cherished memories are outside with him, doing inane tasks like filling the bird feeder or collecting firewood. In his Journal he wrote a quote by Dylan Thomas “The reminiscences of childhood have no order, and no end”. He reflects that the pronunciation obscures its true meaning, RE-MINI-SCENES. I think thats what I remember most from childhood, these vivid snapshots in time, short snippets of us together..
Like him holding my hand as walked down the road on halloween night, and looking up to a straight view of his Irish cap and the moon above him, moving in tandem as we circled the block one more time.
Or him lifting me in the air by my feet over the pool at Tamarac, hearing those propeller planes fly overhead, as he would throw us in the water one by one.
Or me helping him water the garden in the summer, listening to the cicadas calling for dusk.
Dad did alot to shape who I am as a person. I owe my morals, ethics, and basic character to him. But its these little moments that I am most grateful. Through dad, I learned the value of being present and appreciating the natural world around me. And for that I will always be thankful.
I will remember him never more at peace than when he was outside. And I was never more at peace than when I was outside with him. And as dad would say, “NUF SED”.


Introduction to Daffodils Poem

For the past few years I have considered the poem, As Lonely as a Cloud by William Wordsworth, better known as Daffodils, to be my favorite poem.. And I never pieced together why. Just thought it was a nice poem remembering a snapshot in time looking at daffodils. But going through dad’s pictures and videos I realized how many pictures he took of his own daffodils in his garden. And I remembered how in the summers when mom would make big Italian dinner on Sunday, she would send me out to pick basil in our garden. And our basil was usually planted in between a daffodil bed in a rock garden that curved along the stairs leading up to the garage. And as I walked up the stairs I would always see dad, still outside in the waning daylight,, crouched down among his daffodils. Almost like they were whispering to each other. “Still outside, still gardening?” And with his cigar smoke hanging in the air, his Irish cap on and the radio playing the yankee game in the background, And we’d pick the basil together among the daffodils.
I never did ask my dad what he thought of his poem. And I know he would have a very lofty answer regarding it’s simplistic language, and he probably would know more about the author and his biography than I ever will. And then he probably would go into the biological wonder that is the daffodil. And I regret never making a point to start this conversation as it probably would have revealed a lot. But regardless,, I would like to dedicate this poem to him and to his daffodils.


I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine and twinkle on the Milky Way, They stretched in never-ending line along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
in such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought what wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.
“About April, when I should have been doing my taxes, I was ordering bulbs.” Dad’s remark about planning his garden.


Slideshow introduction
So we wanted to make a slideshow so we could honor different chapters of his life and reflect on who he was as a dad growing up.
And as I was trying to find a song to represent him, I thought of a conversation we had before he passed. We were talking about Phillip practicing piano and how when I was young, I would have to practice the same measure over and over again. And I jokingly said “ I’m sorry dad, that must’ve driven you insane” and without hesitation and with complete sincerity, he said “no it was actually one of my greatest joys”. And I thought of all the times growing up that I refused to play for him in front of family and friends. And I thought of all the times he must have sat on that train to New York in the mornings, watching as the Hudson faded behind him, heading in to work a 12 hour day. All so I could go could have my piano lessons, and Tara her dance, and Matt and Ash their baseball and softball.
And so I thought picking a piano piece I made was only fitting. As I am who I am today because of him and his sacrifices for us.
And I also apologize for the length, our dad took many photos and videos, most of which he is behind the camera but I didn’t have the heart to take any others out. So please continue to enjoy your lunch, dad would hate people eating cold food. So enjoy while reflecting on this as well. Thank you. Read less

Shawn Remembrance Speech

Hello everyone, thank you all for coming and traveling to be with us today, it means a lot and we appreciate you sharing this time with us.
I hope some of you got to enjoy some of this beautifully crisp air this morning. Cool low sixties is the kind of weather dad loved and. It’s unusual for mid April, I like to think he played a part it bringing it here today.
It is hard to decide what to talk about when remembering your dad Most would remember him as an incredibly... Read more brilliant physician. Throughout my life, I was told stories by relatives, patients, and friends Amazing stories, to try to convey to me just how incredible he was.
Like the time he saved a 20-something-year-old by catching a lymphoma that multiple doctors and even the radiologist had missed.
Or the time he cured a patient with debilitating vertigo by finding a single hair in the patient's ear canal. As mom tells it, the patient ran into the waiting room cheering that he was cured. They often joked that that day was good for business.
Or the time he met President Bush, and since dad was the observationist he was, noted his pale skin, the fact he was sweating in air conditioning, and decided to check his pulse when shaking his hand. And when he felt an irregular pulse, he informed the secret service. We don’t know if they ever acted on it, but we do know that two weeks later while in Japan, president bush fainted and was later diagnosed with atrial fibrillation.
There is no doubt he excelled in his career, and although he rarely talked about it himself, even as a kid I knew he was someone special. From finding him on 60 minutes on the TV after dinner, or being picked up at elementary school in a limo to meet the mayor, it was obvious that he was doing much bigger things outside of the world of us.
Even when I moved to Florida, one of the first people to insist on taking me and Tara out to dinner was a patient of my dad's. Dad considered his patients his closest friends and they him. And This man, Mr Joe Scamecca,, without ever even meeting us, invited us to eat with his closest family members and friends. We met at a big Italian restaurant, one dad would have loved, and he made it a point to tell us how our dad saved his life and how grateful he was. Joe and dad weren’t just patient and doctor, they were close friends. And we felt that from Joe. He was a Warm and amazing person, and made us feel so welcome and we appreciated that more than he probably knew.
We were always told how great our dad was and how incredible a physician he was. And it was plain to see.
And although it made me feel proud it always left me feeling a little uneasy. Because that's not how I knew him. I knew him as just my dad.
Because he rarely spoke of those things with us. He rarely spoke of work at all really when we were young. When he was home, he was in his work boots, Irish cap, and leather jacket, working outside and coming up with fun things for us to do. Like helping us build giant snow forts out of the plowed snow along the driveway or taking us to ice skate at the Jenkins lake or sledding at Gedney Park. When he was home, he was just dad. And the few times I did go to his office in the city, it wasn't the patients or stories from work that I remembered, it was how his walls and Desk were covered with photos of us. He was our whole world and we were a big part of his too.
I recently read a journal that Dad had kept from about 1979 to 1984. And what it solidified for me were two things, he was never more at peace than when he was outdoors. Most of his journal is written while on hikes in the woods at Harriman Park. And his writing exemplified his fervent observing nature, he was, a true scientist at heart. He wrote entire pages just about the structure of a leaf, or the winding tracks left by deer, or the unusual way a tree grew. He wrote with gracious awe of the natural world around him and it was clear he was in harmony with those woods.
The second thing I learned was just how much his life was dedicated to his family. Writing entire pages just about Matt’s smile or Ashley’s clever nature.
And those two things I know to be true. As that's how I knew my Dad. Some of my most cherished memories are outside with him, doing inane tasks like filling the bird feeder or collecting firewood. In his Journal he wrote a quote by Dylan Thomas “The reminiscences of childhood have no order, and no end”. He reflects that the pronunciation obscures its true meaning, RE-MINI-SCENES. I think thats what I remember most from childhood, these vivid snapshots in time, short snippets of us together..
Like him holding my hand as walked down the road on halloween night, and looking up to a straight view of his Irish cap and the moon above him, moving in tandem as we circled the block one more time.
Or him lifting me in the air by my feet over the pool at Tamarac, hearing those propeller planes fly overhead, as he would throw us in the water one by one.
Or me helping him water the garden in the summer, listening to the cicadas calling for dusk.
Dad did alot to shape who I am as a person. I owe my morals, ethics, and basic character to him. But its these little moments that I am most grateful. Through dad, I learned the value of being present and appreciating the natural world around me. And for that I will always be thankful.
I will remember him never more at peace than when he was outside. And I was never more at peace than when I was outside with him. And as dad would say, “NUF SED”.


Introduction to Daffodils Poem

For the past few years I have considered the poem, As Lonely as a Cloud by William Wordsworth, better known as Daffodils, to be my favorite poem.. And I never pieced together why. Just thought it was a nice poem remembering a snapshot in time looking at daffodils. But going through dad’s pictures and videos I realized how many pictures he took of his own daffodils in his garden. And I remembered how in the summers when mom would make big Italian dinner on Sunday, she would send me out to pick basil in our garden. And our basil was usually planted in between a daffodil bed in a rock garden that curved along the stairs leading up to the garage. And as I walked up the stairs I would always see dad, still outside in the waning daylight,, crouched down among his daffodils. Almost like they were whispering to each other. “Still outside, still gardening?” And with his cigar smoke hanging in the air, his Irish cap on and the radio playing the yankee game in the background, And we’d pick the basil together among the daffodils.
I never did ask my dad what he thought of his poem. And I know he would have a very lofty answer regarding it’s simplistic language, and he probably would know more about the author and his biography than I ever will. And then he probably would go into the biological wonder that is the daffodil. And I regret never making a point to start this conversation as it probably would have revealed a lot. But regardless,, I would like to dedicate this poem to him and to his daffodils.


I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine and twinkle on the Milky Way, They stretched in never-ending line along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
in such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought what wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.
“About April, when I should have been doing my taxes, I was ordering bulbs.” Dad’s remark about planning his garden.


Slideshow introduction
So we wanted to make a slideshow so we could honor different chapters of his life and reflect on who he was as a dad growing up.
And as I was trying to find a song to represent him, I thought of a conversation we had before he passed. We were talking about Phillip practicing piano and how when I was young, I would have to practice the same measure over and over again. And I jokingly said “ I’m sorry dad, that must’ve driven you insane” and without hesitation and with complete sincerity, he said “no it was actually one of my greatest joys”. And I thought of all the times growing up that I refused to play for him in front of family and friends. And I thought of all the times he must have sat on that train to New York in the mornings, watching as the Hudson faded behind him, heading in to work a 12 hour day. All so I could go could have my piano lessons, and Tara her dance, and Matt and Ash their baseball and softball.
And so I thought picking a piano piece I made was only fitting. As I am who I am today because of him and his sacrifices for us.
And I also apologize for the length, our dad took many photos and videos, most of which he is behind the camera but I didn’t have the heart to take any others out. So please continue to enjoy your lunch, dad would hate people eating cold food. So enjoy while reflecting on this as well. Thank you. Read less