Left – A picture of David and I (David is on the Left) in front our school “Scuola Ardigo,” in Padova (Padua) Italy (not far from Venice) in 1976. Click on the picture to see a blowup. I remember David had a tough teacher (picked up kids up by the hair when they were bad) and mine was comparatively easy going. As you can see, we’re wearing black smocks to cover our clothes. These were public schools and you weren’t supposed to be wearing anything that denoted social standing, so these pretty much covered us up. All kids had to wear them. Here you can see the front of the school. Inside is a staircase that winds its way around to the second level where our classrooms were. I revisited the place ten years ago and it hadn’t changed much. We were only in Italy for a few years but David made lots of friends.
I remember one time he had a party at our house and he had all of his classmates over. They all played games and they all really liked him. I had a harder time getting kids over to the house when I had my party. I think all the Italian parents got together to decide if they wanted their kid at the “Americano’s” house and somehow decided no. As Americans, we were pretty different from Italians. You were either communist or fascist, and we were neither. Eight kids called me, one after the other, to say “non posso” which means, “I can’t [come over].” After a few weeks, I had a few friends over at a time so they got used to the idea, then I was fine and had my own party.
I remember David was only one year at Ardigo and then he went to Italian middle school. That was tougher scholastically, and I remember he took Judo classes with my sister. She was the oldest. I wanted to do that but never got the chance because we moved to Paris for six months and then we were back in the US. He went to Mission Hill Jr. High School in Santa Cruz.
One time at Mission Hill, another student, who was tough and rough, decided to cut in line. David wouldn’t have it. David stuck up for himself and had to fight. The other guy was bigger, so my brother was losing the fight. Thank god for Mr. Dumstra, a counselor at the school who happened to know my parents and speak Italian. He broke up the fight. My brother was defeated, but his spirit wasn’t broken. We could debate on whether it was better to let the other kid in, but somewhere, maybe even here, David learned to fight for himself.
It’s still incredible to think that he is gone. I’m sure I sound like a broken record as I keep saying that, but that’s how I feel. It’s such a huge loss. When I look at his picture, I wish I could go back to that moment to be there with him. I really miss him.
John I loved hearing more about David. Your comments really help me understand the man I met and what made him who he was. If I become even half the father her was I’d be a proud man. One of the first times I spent a day with your brother was at Shared Adventures day at the beach last year. I dove the Santa Cruz wharf with one of David’s old buddies who’s name escapes me right now, we were collecting star fish, crabs and such for the folks to enjoy at Aqua Safaris SCUBA float off of Cowells beach. I then spent the day escorting folks in and out of the water with DeDe and David. As soon as my morning shift was up David came up to me with his big smile and said “Did you get something to eat…can I make you a sandwich?” always putting others well being ahead of his own. And no you don’t sound like a broken record I miss the family everyday. A part of me is missing with them gone. As I left that day I hugged DeDe and went to shake David’s hand but he was having none of that he gave me a big hug as well. I have never felt so good as I did volunteering that day. I only have David and DeDe to thank for the feeling of giving and charity to those less fortunate than I. It’s a life lesson I will always take with me where ever I go.