Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s oft read poem, Paul Revere’s Ride, begins with the words, “Listen my children, and you shall hear, of the Midnight ride of Paul Revere.” Today’s VFTB narrative opens with the words, “Listen my children (Chasity, Christina, and Jonathan) and you shall hear, words I hope you’ll cherish dear,” as some thoughts have been roaming through my mind and heart since about a year ago until now, and I hope as I share them with you, you heed the meaning and purpose of them as your lives move on. They are written in the form of a letter to the three of you, and hopefully you will share them with your children when you feel the need or want to share them with Justin, Joshua, Jeffrey, Kolby, Gianna, and Olivia, and they can then share them with their children when/if they have them. I hope you understand where these words are coming from inside me, and my reasons for wanting to share them with you. So here goes…

Dear Chasy, Chrissy, and Jon,

As it’s been an honor and privilege to have been your parent (Chas and Chris these past 45 years since your mom and I married, and Jon, these past 36.5 years since you entered this world, and our lives). It’s also been a joy and a pleasure (with a bump or two in all our journeys along the way) to watch you grow into the amazing people you all have become, along with creating the wonderful families of your own which you’ve built and with whom you have blessed Mom and me through these years.

Being your parents, these past many years, has been a wonderful ride for us, and with wonderful rides, there sometimes are scrapes, bruises, trips, and falls, some in our early years, that even caused tears of pain and tears of sadness, mixed with the tears of joy, that come with being on a ride, and with being a parent. It’s been this way for mom and me.

Mom and I grew up in a time and generation, where most families stayed together, living in the same, or nearby city, or town and seeing each other often, sometimes multiple times a day. We’d eat together, take Sunday rides, and take vacations when we all lived together. After leaving the house, we’d gather on birthdays, holidays, or other special occasions. We’d have parties at each other’s house, sometimes backyard picnics, or go to Allegany State Park or Long Point on a summer Sunday for a picnic, to watch fireworks, or anything else that was planned on a certain day. But those were our days, they are not yours.

In our days, we knew us kids would eventually leave the nest, but we’d build our new nest in a tree next door, or down the street, or on the other side of town, or in a smaller town near the city where our parents lived. Your days here saw this area losing business and industry, prompting diminishing population, the loss of good jobs, and seeing a shrinking of opportunities for work or things you may feel you want/wanted in your lives. So, when you left the nest, you built/found your new one miles away, and as proud of you as we were/are for what you became, it hurt seeing you fly off to your new tree many miles away.

I do see some families where people from our generation have kids that were able to find opportunities here in the fields they chose, who still are in close proximity of each other, and I’ll admit, I’m jealous of them (but more very happy for them), but we know that you, when or while you are/were away, it was so you could become the people you’ve become which has made us so proud of you. So, it’s a “Catch-22.” We were/are sad that distance separates us, but were/are also happy and comforted to see what benefits, and life, you found those miles away.

When Mom (Sherman) and I (Jamestown) grew up in this area, it was a great place to grow up. We had thriving businesses and industries, we had many job opportunities to choose or create our futures, though I needed luck going into education as back then, there were upwards of 200 applicants for every teaching job available. I worked hard to prove myself subbing for two years before a long term opportunity was offered me leading to a full time position after that, giving me the chance to stay in my home area spending my entire teaching/coaching career here, and mom created a successful self-employment career in day care, and we were able to stay close to most of our family. I do wish you three could have had the opportunity to live in the Jamestown I got to live in, but times changed, businesses left, and opportunities we had, just weren’t as plentiful when you grew up and started your lives.

What I desperately need and want you to heed to in this letter, and I know I’ve said this before, is that you always continue to remember where you came from, because many people in this area as you grew up, were ones who helped us raise you, educationally, physically, mentally, and spiritually. They helped teach you, coach you, provided you with entertainment opportunities, chances to learn beyond Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic, and advised you in groups you joined, of which you became a part. Those people and places gave you chances to make a little money in your youth, be it babysitting, mowing lawns, or learning through the selling of fast foods, ballpark foods, or landscaping parks, and/or other odd jobs. Please remember that those times, those people, those opportunities, were the whos, whats, and wheres you came from, and what helped make you who/what you are today.

The second thing I want you to take from this letter is to always be there for each other. Stay close to each other. Tell each other often you love each other. Get together once, (hopefully more) a year. Take a few days to camp, vacation with each other, spend a holiday, all together, Zoom weekly, call each other weekly, or more (keep checking in with us too), and end every talk or get together with each other, with another, “I Love You.” In a short time, Mom and I both lost a sibling, and though we did celebrate Uncle Tom and Aunt Linda’s lives with everyone sharing their life and the memories we both had for them, we both had doubts that we told them enough how much we loved them or how much they meant to us. I never want you to have those doubts, because whether, or not, you did say those things enough to them, even the chance of not will eat away in you.

And if I can say something to my siblings before concluding, I love you, Sandy, Lou, Tom, Cathy, and Aunt Rosalie, all of you my siblings in my life, I love you all, and though I had the pouting face in many of our family pictures, I’m always so proud to be a Lombardo, and have you as my siblings. (I’m especially proud of the holidays that often turned into faculty meetings when four of us were educators at the same time.)

And to Chasity, Christina, and Jonathan, I hope you,

listened, my children and you all heard

all of this letter, every last word,

and now know the reason I wrote it to you,

Heed it’s message, share with your kids, then grandkids too.

Never forget who you are, from where you came, and the importance of family!

Love, Dad