Published May 2015 in Great South Bay Mag
In front of me is a letter from the Department of Veterans Affairs, Long Island National Cemetery, Farmingdale, NY 11735. It is from November 8, 1993, directed to Mrs. Del Zappala, 222 Sullivan Street, New York, NY 10012.
Dear Mrs. Zappala: I have enclosed a map of the cemetery with the section and grave location of your husband, Richard A. Zappala. The burial was conducted on November 4, 1993, and the remains placed in grave 1378A.
The information you provided on the ‘Certificate of Monument Date’ will be utilized to order the headstone. Once the headstone is received in approximately 0-12- days it will be installed. We will mail you a post card once the stone has been installed.
If we may be of any further assistance please contact Annette Bianco at 516-454-4949.
Sincerely, Mike Cariota, Cemetery Director.
This letter was in a file, which my husband Raymond Rodrigues, had kept. He too has passed on in the meantime. As a matter of fact, he too is buried in a Military Cemetery, but he is at Calverton, New York. I would have preferred him to be in Farmingdale, as this is much closer to my residency; however in 2010 there was no longer any space available in Farmingdale.
“Do the dead know when we visit them?”
One day in the future I will join him at Calverton. This is a thought which is not exactly pleasant to me and oddly erroneous too. I am not even an American Citizen; I came from a country, Germany, where my husband won his medals of war, including the Purple Heart. Just like my entire life can hardly be called traditional, this too falls under the heading “Idiosyncrasy. “
Richard Zappala was my husband’s nephew, the son of his oldest sister Hilda. When I met him, he was already in his second marriage to Del Zappala. He had gotten hurt during a maneuver while in the Service and thus was buried with Military honors.
I remember Richard as a pleasant personality, heavyset, a smoker and drinker and always full of jokes. I knew him for nearly 30 years but only met him at family gatherings, maybe once or twice a year. Del his wife was a charming Blonde, a good singer and somebody nice to have around. As I understand she was many years older than Richard, maybe about 15, and she was the bread winner. She loved Richard dearly and gladly accommodated his aimless lifestyle. In old times Richard was said to have been on road shows as an actor, but I cannot remember him ever working while I knew him. His failure to make a living obviously contributed to the break-up of his first marriage to Sybill. He died at the early age of 53, succumbing to a heart attack while food shopping.
Del died many years later. During my last phone conversation with her she mentioned that she was working on her blood pressure, which was at stroke level and that we would get together when she felt better. Well she did have a stroke shortly after this call and died several months later. Her body was sent to her family members someplace at the outskirts of Pennsylvania. At this point nobody, being that there is only Mary, my sister-in-law, who did not know the answer when being asked, knows the address. Unfortunately, Mary Petit, my sister-in-law had a fall-out with her son and their connection has broken off. Mary’s daughter, Diana passed away July 2011, following a devastating fire in their house in Jersey and also suffering from Liver cancer. Richard Zappala also had had a sister, Dorothy. She too died from cancer a few years after him. There are no offspring from either Richard or Dorothy. Mary’s son Mark however has two children, Tiana and Garrett, and I am contemplating to possibly send them a copy of this write-up in the near future. I myself am of advanced age and the term “In the future” will be chiseled into “Near future” by me from now on.
In the “very near future” I will compose a write-up about my own family. Luckily I have kept pictures, letters and hear- say anecdotes since my early youth. Maybe my grandson, Adam, now 5 years old, will one day take the notes into his hands and venture on a trip into the past.
(The point that I would like to make with this outpour of data, which obviously has no meaning at all for any of you, is that our instructor Mary Haughey has done a great service to us by challenging us to write down our memories. She did that in a caring and stimulating way and for that we all should be grateful.)
People and happenings, otherwise forgotten, will live on in the written word!