Robert Monastero.

Bobby.

Bob.

Dad.

Uncle Bob.

Monty.

Chef Roberto.

The Godfather.

My father was known by all these names and more.

Robert, my Dad, would appreciate all of you being here. My family and I are grateful for the kind words, the flowers, gifts, and donations in memory of Dad to the Ronald McDonald House of Southwest Florida where he, Chef Roberto, and my Mom bought food and prepared meals for a multitude of families whose children were fighting cancer. Thank you.

I want to acknowledge and express my appreciation for family and friends here today, especially those who have come from afar. I also appreciate as does my sweet mother and my dear sister the sentiments directly shared with us including those that have said things such as “Dad is reunited with his two brothers - Mickey and Bill.” And “Right now, the three brothers are placing bets on upcoming football games and smoking cigars.” Someone else lovingly said, “Bob is scheduled to be laughing... Read more it up at 5:30 p.m. over drinks with Uncle George, Aunt Barbie, Aunt Sally, and many other family and friends.” Those sentiments make me smile as they very well could be true.

My father, God willing, is in the loving presence of Nana and Papa, his parents, whose given names were Saverio Calogero Monastero and Ermilia Luciel DeDominic.

Dad often chided me when I was growing up that I had it much better than he. For example, Nana often assigned young Bobby and his brothers to race down the block to nearby Elmwood Park to collect dandelion greens for the dinner salad. From my perspective, times were tough, and my father was tougher. I can clearly see the handmade wooden shoeshine box he used to scrape up some dough by shining peoples’ shoes. He insisted I learn how to upkeep my own footwear, which I still do to this day. When my father and his close friend, Mike Marino were in their late teens, my Dad, also known as Monty, helped my Godfather Mike’s Italian ice business during the summer. Their original vehicle to carry the water ice was a rickety flat-bed pick-up truck. Later they and several friends used vans. From their routes they reportedly made a mint. To this day some of those now elder men still talk quite fondly of that business they kept going for years.

For Bobby’s family, athletics were incredibly important. As an example, his Dad, my Papa Sam, was a long-distance runner long before his time. People looked a little askew when Papa said, “I am running 26.2 miles and competing in the Boston Marathon.” My father deeply admired Papa who raced through his 80s. Today, there is a Senior Games World Record still attributed to his name. As a tribute to my father and his father, when I travel, I wear the Boston Marathon medal awarded to Papa Sam around my neck on a silver chain, and it’s on right now. The household culture supported sports and Dad grew up loving sports - his top love was wrestling. He thrived within that culture big time. His dedication, long gym training sets, and countless sacrifices were coupled with sweat-provocation sessions to remain qualified in a weight class. He won championships in high school and beyond. When my father was at Drexel University, he was the national NCAA Division I wrestling champion for his weight class. Such effort does come at a price, and as he would remind me, “Perry, don’t get asked to leave college like I did, son, due to bad grades.” Apparently, he majored more in sports and not so much in pre-med.

As a young man, Bob worked at a steel plant. He also learned a great deal working for family friend, Nick Volpicelli, a stone mason. Through his experience, he learned how to build a stone fence and when I was 12, I recall helping him to build a craft traditional format mason-style rock wall at our home.

In Dad’s junior year abroad, Bobby met my mother, Julia Bailey. Both were enrolled in the New York University program at the University of Madrid in Fall 1965. At Christmas on a wooden cruise boat heading to the Canary Islands, my mother became seasick and was comforted by my father’s steady presence. She realized then she would fall in love with Bobby. From Dad’s perspective as he always maintained for him it was love at first sight, and on June 10, 1967 they married. Two years later, he became a father to me and in another 20 months Mom and Dad had a second child, Amy, and that was that.

My father, Bob, started working for Xerox Corporation in sales before I was born, rising to regional manager when we were living in central Pennsylvania. In his early forties, Robert Monastero completed his master's degree in industrial and labor relations at the Cornell University/Baruch College program while in a senior human resources management role at the Xerox headquarters in Rochester, New York, as well as Stamford, Connecticut. When Bob reached Xerox’s executive management team level as the information management human resources director, he was often quoted by magazines such as Computer World and CIO. He was charged with diversifying staff, coordinating a merger with EDS, and co-leading the effort to prepare Xerox for the Y2K transition on New Year’s Eve in 1999. Soon after, he retired at 59 after 32 years at Xerox.

Robert, my father, was an avid golfer, talented gourmet chef, and doting elder and Godfather to family and several children of family friends. My father was a world traveler especially to Spain and Italy. In his 60s, he took up biking. Throughout his life he went on multiple outdoor and at times “extreme” camping, hiking, fishing, boating, and mountaineering adventures. Ask me later about Glacier National Park when he crossed the border from Montana into Canada. Due to the long trek in the cold and days of wearing wet socks from snow melt he almost lost three toes. On a more refined note, my father, Bob, was a wine expert who reestablished family ties with living relatives in Sicily and the Abruzzo region of Italy. He was fluent in Spanish which he used for travel, work, and with friends and family and that helped in Italy, to be sure.

In the 1970s, Dad rocked the unique CB Radio handle, “The Godfather,” a moniker inspired by the Martin Scorcese film trilogy. He owned a giant bright red Cadillac to match. Protecting us from speeding tickets, which were quite possible in those days when 55 was the law of the land and either his lead foot or cruise control was set somewhere between 75 and 85, the CB culture infiltrated our car. “Breaker Breaker 1-9, what’s your 10-20? Is there a Smokey on I-76? Back off the hammer and don’t feed the bears! Smokey ahead. Roger Wilco. Doin’ the double nickels.” I think you get the idea. It was entertaining as heck to a kid in the Seventies.

Later in retirement, my father was known as Chef Roberto as he was often calling himself. Now this is the same man who wouldn’t do as much as boil water in my youth. Somehow Dad grew a set of culinary chops in the early 1990s. My first recollection of this transformation was coming home for Christmas the first year out of college. He shared a dish he was proud of – sweet olive tapenade on toasted points. It was so darn good I was shocked. I didn’t know what hit me. Although Chef Roberto indeed brought talent to any kitchen, my immediate family has been known to lovingly roll our eyes and quietly groan when he would hand out his homemade Chef Roberto Monastero business cards. In public. At restaurants. To the chefs even!

My father was also known as Uncle Bob, a man who has counseled and mentored younger family members and demonstrated commitment to their own children in ways that made the folks know just how special they were to him. As a younger man, my father was a person of few words especially around children. He most assuredly evolved. He opened up more to others who know him as Uncle Bob as he aged much like the fine wines and the bourbon he kept in his antique liquor cabinet. As Uncle Bob – I know he will be missed by so many nieces and nephews and younger family friends.

To his colleagues at work, Bob Monastero brought his best self. I know he has many outstanding work friends making long-lasting impressions on folks who met him decades ago. Dad invested in people for the long haul and often took well-calculated chances. Soon after his passing, after I posted just the “work” section of his obituary on LinkedIn, I got a surprising message from a Virginian with whom I have been connected. We met years ago via a professional credentialing program in my professional field of nonprofit fundraising. His name is Garvin Maffet, a man who ultimately earned graduate degrees from both Yale and Harvard. In response to my obituary post, Garvin shocked me because he hadn’t realized – and neither did I – that we shared a connection with my Dad. Here’s what he privately wrote:

“Perry: One a sunny day at Penn State main campus, I walked upstairs in the Office of Student Services. Standing in the hallway were two well-dressed men wearing three-piece suits. They could have been on the cover of GQ. I introduce myself to them. Asking probing questions to learn why they were there and looking “fine.” We talked for an hour in the hallway outside the room where he was conducting on campus interviews. Two days later, I received a call from this man. He said, “Our conversation with you was the best one we had in 2 days of interviewing Penn State students. We/Xerox want to offer you a position as a Sales Rep.” I wasn’t even interviewing. We only had a long conversation and I asked questions. Your father Bob Monastero hired me. I graduated from Penn State in less than 3 years and was the youngest person at age 19 to be hired by Xerox as a full-time sales rep that year. Had a great time at Leesburg training center. I worked in the Fort Washington Branch outside Philly. Many thanks to your father!! Blessings to your family. You have my deepest sympathy. Garvin”
My father, somewhat nontraditional, was committed to excellence as a builder of long-term relationships. Plus, he really did live his life to the fullest. I must say I loved the man with all my heart but seriously, I will acknowledge he could be immensely stubborn and yes, at times truly difficult. Sometimes he had unrealistic expectations. Within his perspective around excellence, he could get in his own way and be hard on others closest to him. What did I not understand until I was a fully functioning adult? My father just wanted the best for me and everyone else around him to thrive. Clumsy at time in his communications, I now of course see that as OK.

I am immensely grateful we had Dad here on this earth for 81 plus years and for me, 52 plus. I am sad he is no longer present. He is missed and for now there is a vacuum in his absence. Someday, may all of us get to a place where the joyous memories of the good and adventurous times take greater prevalence in our minds and hearts over the grief and sadness we feel today. That is what I wish for all of you present as well as those that knew my father who could not be here with us today.

For me, I will take some time and give myself space to honor the man I call Dad. Or you might call Bobby. Or Robert. Or The Godfather. Or Uncle Bob. Or Monty. Chef Roberto. Or just Bob.

Thanks again for being here today. My immediate family and I deeply appreciate your presence. Read less

Robert Monastero.

Bobby.

Bob.

Dad.

Uncle Bob.

Monty.

Chef Roberto.

The Godfather.

My father was known by all these names and more.

Robert, my Dad, would appreciate all of you being here. My family and I are grateful for the kind words, the flowers, gifts, and donations in memory of Dad to the Ronald McDonald House of Southwest Florida where he, Chef Roberto, and my Mom bought food and prepared meals for a multitude of families whose children were fighting cancer. Thank... Read more you.

I want to acknowledge and express my appreciation for family and friends here today, especially those who have come from afar. I also appreciate as does my sweet mother and my dear sister the sentiments directly shared with us including those that have said things such as “Dad is reunited with his two brothers - Mickey and Bill.” And “Right now, the three brothers are placing bets on upcoming football games and smoking cigars.” Someone else lovingly said, “Bob is scheduled to be laughing it up at 5:30 p.m. over drinks with Uncle George, Aunt Barbie, Aunt Sally, and many other family and friends.” Those sentiments make me smile as they very well could be true.

My father, God willing, is in the loving presence of Nana and Papa, his parents, whose given names were Saverio Calogero Monastero and Ermilia Luciel DeDominic.

Dad often chided me when I was growing up that I had it much better than he. For example, Nana often assigned young Bobby and his brothers to race down the block to nearby Elmwood Park to collect dandelion greens for the dinner salad. From my perspective, times were tough, and my father was tougher. I can clearly see the handmade wooden shoeshine box he used to scrape up some dough by shining peoples’ shoes. He insisted I learn how to upkeep my own footwear, which I still do to this day. When my father and his close friend, Mike Marino were in their late teens, my Dad, also known as Monty, helped my Godfather Mike’s Italian ice business during the summer. Their original vehicle to carry the water ice was a rickety flat-bed pick-up truck. Later they and several friends used vans. From their routes they reportedly made a mint. To this day some of those now elder men still talk quite fondly of that business they kept going for years.

For Bobby’s family, athletics were incredibly important. As an example, his Dad, my Papa Sam, was a long-distance runner long before his time. People looked a little askew when Papa said, “I am running 26.2 miles and competing in the Boston Marathon.” My father deeply admired Papa who raced through his 80s. Today, there is a Senior Games World Record still attributed to his name. As a tribute to my father and his father, when I travel, I wear the Boston Marathon medal awarded to Papa Sam around my neck on a silver chain, and it’s on right now. The household culture supported sports and Dad grew up loving sports - his top love was wrestling. He thrived within that culture big time. His dedication, long gym training sets, and countless sacrifices were coupled with sweat-provocation sessions to remain qualified in a weight class. He won championships in high school and beyond. When my father was at Drexel University, he was the national NCAA Division I wrestling champion for his weight class. Such effort does come at a price, and as he would remind me, “Perry, don’t get asked to leave college like I did, son, due to bad grades.” Apparently, he majored more in sports and not so much in pre-med.

As a young man, Bob worked at a steel plant. He also learned a great deal working for family friend, Nick Volpicelli, a stone mason. Through his experience, he learned how to build a stone fence and when I was 12, I recall helping him to build a craft traditional format mason-style rock wall at our home.

In Dad’s junior year abroad, Bobby met my mother, Julia Bailey. Both were enrolled in the New York University program at the University of Madrid in Fall 1965. At Christmas on a wooden cruise boat heading to the Canary Islands, my mother became seasick and was comforted by my father’s steady presence. She realized then she would fall in love with Bobby. From Dad’s perspective as he always maintained for him it was love at first sight, and on June 10, 1967 they married. Two years later, he became a father to me and in another 20 months Mom and Dad had a second child, Amy, and that was that.

My father, Bob, started working for Xerox Corporation in sales before I was born, rising to regional manager when we were living in central Pennsylvania. In his early forties, Robert Monastero completed his master's degree in industrial and labor relations at the Cornell University/Baruch College program while in a senior human resources management role at the Xerox headquarters in Rochester, New York, as well as Stamford, Connecticut. When Bob reached Xerox’s executive management team level as the information management human resources director, he was often quoted by magazines such as Computer World and CIO. He was charged with diversifying staff, coordinating a merger with EDS, and co-leading the effort to prepare Xerox for the Y2K transition on New Year’s Eve in 1999. Soon after, he retired at 59 after 32 years at Xerox.

Robert, my father, was an avid golfer, talented gourmet chef, and doting elder and Godfather to family and several children of family friends. My father was a world traveler especially to Spain and Italy. In his 60s, he took up biking. Throughout his life he went on multiple outdoor and at times “extreme” camping, hiking, fishing, boating, and mountaineering adventures. Ask me later about Glacier National Park when he crossed the border from Montana into Canada. Due to the long trek in the cold and days of wearing wet socks from snow melt he almost lost three toes. On a more refined note, my father, Bob, was a wine expert who reestablished family ties with living relatives in Sicily and the Abruzzo region of Italy. He was fluent in Spanish which he used for travel, work, and with friends and family and that helped in Italy, to be sure.

In the 1970s, Dad rocked the unique CB Radio handle, “The Godfather,” a moniker inspired by the Martin Scorcese film trilogy. He owned a giant bright red Cadillac to match. Protecting us from speeding tickets, which were quite possible in those days when 55 was the law of the land and either his lead foot or cruise control was set somewhere between 75 and 85, the CB culture infiltrated our car. “Breaker Breaker 1-9, what’s your 10-20? Is there a Smokey on I-76? Back off the hammer and don’t feed the bears! Smokey ahead. Roger Wilco. Doin’ the double nickels.” I think you get the idea. It was entertaining as heck to a kid in the Seventies.

Later in retirement, my father was known as Chef Roberto as he was often calling himself. Now this is the same man who wouldn’t do as much as boil water in my youth. Somehow Dad grew a set of culinary chops in the early 1990s. My first recollection of this transformation was coming home for Christmas the first year out of college. He shared a dish he was proud of – sweet olive tapenade on toasted points. It was so darn good I was shocked. I didn’t know what hit me. Although Chef Roberto indeed brought talent to any kitchen, my immediate family has been known to lovingly roll our eyes and quietly groan when he would hand out his homemade Chef Roberto Monastero business cards. In public. At restaurants. To the chefs even!

My father was also known as Uncle Bob, a man who has counseled and mentored younger family members and demonstrated commitment to their own children in ways that made the folks know just how special they were to him. As a younger man, my father was a person of few words especially around children. He most assuredly evolved. He opened up more to others who know him as Uncle Bob as he aged much like the fine wines and the bourbon he kept in his antique liquor cabinet. As Uncle Bob – I know he will be missed by so many nieces and nephews and younger family friends.

To his colleagues at work, Bob Monastero brought his best self. I know he has many outstanding work friends making long-lasting impressions on folks who met him decades ago. Dad invested in people for the long haul and often took well-calculated chances. Soon after his passing, after I posted just the “work” section of his obituary on LinkedIn, I got a surprising message from a Virginian with whom I have been connected. We met years ago via a professional credentialing program in my professional field of nonprofit fundraising. His name is Garvin Maffet, a man who ultimately earned graduate degrees from both Yale and Harvard. In response to my obituary post, Garvin shocked me because he hadn’t realized – and neither did I – that we shared a connection with my Dad. Here’s what he privately wrote:

“Perry: One a sunny day at Penn State main campus, I walked upstairs in the Office of Student Services. Standing in the hallway were two well-dressed men wearing three-piece suits. They could have been on the cover of GQ. I introduce myself to them. Asking probing questions to learn why they were there and looking “fine.” We talked for an hour in the hallway outside the room where he was conducting on campus interviews. Two days later, I received a call from this man. He said, “Our conversation with you was the best one we had in 2 days of interviewing Penn State students. We/Xerox want to offer you a position as a Sales Rep.” I wasn’t even interviewing. We only had a long conversation and I asked questions. Your father Bob Monastero hired me. I graduated from Penn State in less than 3 years and was the youngest person at age 19 to be hired by Xerox as a full-time sales rep that year. Had a great time at Leesburg training center. I worked in the Fort Washington Branch outside Philly. Many thanks to your father!! Blessings to your family. You have my deepest sympathy. Garvin”
My father, somewhat nontraditional, was committed to excellence as a builder of long-term relationships. Plus, he really did live his life to the fullest. I must say I loved the man with all my heart but seriously, I will acknowledge he could be immensely stubborn and yes, at times truly difficult. Sometimes he had unrealistic expectations. Within his perspective around excellence, he could get in his own way and be hard on others closest to him. What did I not understand until I was a fully functioning adult? My father just wanted the best for me and everyone else around him to thrive. Clumsy at time in his communications, I now of course see that as OK.

I am immensely grateful we had Dad here on this earth for 81 plus years and for me, 52 plus. I am sad he is no longer present. He is missed and for now there is a vacuum in his absence. Someday, may all of us get to a place where the joyous memories of the good and adventurous times take greater prevalence in our minds and hearts over the grief and sadness we feel today. That is what I wish for all of you present as well as those that knew my father who could not be here with us today.

For me, I will take some time and give myself space to honor the man I call Dad. Or you might call Bobby. Or Robert. Or The Godfather. Or Uncle Bob. Or Monty. Chef Roberto. Or just Bob.

Thanks again for being here today. My immediate family and I deeply appreciate your presence. Read less