Remembering My Dad: Samuel Dominic Sebastian

By DJ Sebastian

April 15, 2019

Ten years ago today, my Dad, Samuel Dominic Sebastian, passed away.

Some claim that time heals all, but that concept is difficult for me to believe. Even ten years later, I still miss him dearly and think about him every day. All we can do is remember the good times and learn from those memories.

Back then, we would have been watching the final round of The Masters golf tournament, cheering on yet another Tiger comeback. Yesterday, I swear I could hear a voice in the background yelling out encouragement: “Come on, Tiger… keep it going!”

Oh, the laughs we shared telling our favorite stories about attending the Memorial Tournament in Dublin, the weather we either enjoyed or despised, the remarkable pro golfers we got to watch, and those who were gracious enough to engage in brief conversations with us. Now, it’s just not the same and it is clear that something is missing.

Initially, I penned the following letter ten years ago so that others could know a little more about the wonderful person my Dad was. Here it is again, still as pertinent as ever.

It is comforting to know that Dad is certainly in a much better place. I can envision a big dining room table up in the “Italian” section of heaven. I am sure that Dad is sitting at the head of the table, with his parents Pasquale and Franceschelle, Mom’s  parents, Vincenzo and Fiorentina, his sisters, Viola and Jeanette, his favorite Uncles, Charley and Banjo, his in-laws, Mario,  Cheech, and Flora, and Jennie’s Dad and good friend, Tony. They are feasting on a seven-course meal, telling stories, and  enjoying just being together again. And Dad, who always served as the host, is making sure that everyone has enough ravioli and meatballs on their plate.

Dad had a tremendous impact on my brothers, Sammy and Jimmy, and me. He taught us many great lessons and instilled traditions that we will have already begun to pass on to our kids and grandkids.  Dad didn’t have the benefit of an advanced education, but he was a great teacher. Here are just a few lessons he taught us.

Nothing Is More Important Than Your Family

Mom and Dad were married for 61 years and lived a wonderful life together. They created a great environment for growing up during those wonder years.  My brothers and I were blessed to have such great parents and to live in such a loving family.

Dad always made our family his number one priority. Whether it was playing catch in the back yard, attending our games, or taking us to play a round of golf, no matter how tired he was after work, he always made it a priority to spend time with us.  We often drove Mom crazy waiting for him to pull into the driveway so we could play imaginary ball games with him in our own little backyard ball field.

Dad was a disciplinarian.  My goodness, he was very strict.  On warm summer nights, we had to be back in the house (or at least on the front porch) before the street lights went on. As a kid, I was sure that this rule would ruin my life forever.  I must have inherited this trait. As a father myself, I gained the reputation of being very strict.  I learned how to threaten severe disciplinary actions if rules were not followed.  This included reciting that infamous phrase you will find on Page 1 of the parenting book: “As long as you live under MY roof…”.

Keep Your Head Straight and Keep Your Eye on the Ball

Dad told us this all the time on the golf course and on the baseball fields. I think he was also talking about life.  These words were easily translated to “Do what you know is right” and “Stay focused”.

Most of the time, we listened. I truly believe that what kept us out of major trouble is that we did not want to disappoint our Mom and Dad.  We certainly did not want to face the additional work chores handed out for breaking the rules.

Not that we ALWAYS followed the rules.  I vaguely recall a few (actually, several) times when a Struthers police officer would flag down my speeding sports car and after glancing at the name on my driver’s license, would ask “Are you related to Sam?”  After mumbling “Yes, Sam is my Dad”, the officer would scold me, and tell to get my butt home fast or he would let my Dad know about our unfortunate encounter.  I am convinced that Dad knew every police officer in town, or at least all the ones who pulled me over.

A Natural Foursome

Some of our best times together were related to the game of golf.  With Dad and his three sons, we had a natural foursome.

On the tee, no matter what the score, we deferred to Dad.  He always teed off first regardless of who officially had “honors”.  With a driver in his strong hands, Dad put everything he had into it, and off the tee would swing so hard that he nearly came out of his shoes.  His drives usually found the fairway, even after the occasional fortunate bounce off the trunk of a tree.  Then, Sammy would go next.  His fluid swing and accuracy would result in a nice right-to-left arcing draw that would roll 20 yards past Dad’s ball before settling in the middle of the fairway.  Dad would flash a big smile.  Next, Jimmy would hammer his power fade, the ball seemed to be in the air forever.  Finally, his drive would settle 20 yards past Sammy’s ball, quite often in the light rough.  Dad’s smile would grow even bigger.  Then I would try to duplicate the three swings before me.  Imagine a left-hander attempting to play golf right-handed.  Usually, the result was a mean slice that ended up in the trees.  Dad would calmly say to me “OK, now let’s work on your recovery shot”.   No matter what challenges would arise, the only thing that was important was to bounce back.

The Apple Doesn’t Fall Too Far From The Tree

One day prior to starting a round at Mill Creek, a gentleman was waiting at the first tee alone, looking for playing partners.  Dad invited this gentleman to join our foursome.  The gentleman was a little hesitant at first, since at the time, my brothers and I were somewhere between snotty kids and annoying teen-agers.  But we had our usual great time navigating our favorite course, searching the woods to find errant shots (usually mine), and helping each other line up our putts.  Our guest really enjoyed spending the day with our foursome and getting to know us.

At the end of the round, our guest shook our hands, mentioned how much he enjoyed our company, and then said to Dad, “You know, the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree”.

This gentleman said that you can learn more about people in a single round of golf than you would learn in years.  He noticed the way we all conducted ourselves on the course and that comment was his way of telling Dad that the reason you have well-behaved, respectful sons is because of their father.  What a great compliment.

Work Ethic

Dad worked hard right up until retirement.  As a kid, he had to pitch in and work to help his parents support his younger brothers and sisters.  Later he juggled his own work schedule with assisting his traditional Italian father and father-in-law with their gardens, grapevines, and wine-making duties.  As a parent, he worked long and hard hours in the harsh environment of the steel mills to support his family.  Dad worked different shifts, night turn, evening turn, and day turn, and persevered through multiple labor strikes.

Throughout his life, Dad sacrificed in many ways so that our family members could enjoy a better life.

Dad taught us that a person should do the best job possible, whether it was school work, mowing the lawn, or painting the house.  No matter how small the task, hard work is its own reward, and the accomplishment makes you a better person.

Honesty and Integrity

Dad stressed that honesty is the best policy… and should be the ONLY policy.

While in Cleveland to attend a baseball game, we stopped at a little diner near the stadium.  Shortly after paying the bill and walking out, Dad realized that the waitress gave him back too much change (I think it was a $10 mistake).  Immediately, we had to turn around and return to the diner to give back the correct amount to the waitress.  My brothers and I moaned and complained that we were sure to miss the opening pitch, but this experience taught us a great lesson.  A few extra dollars in your pocket doesn’t mean too much, especially if it didn’t belong there… it is far more important to do what is right, to set a good example, and be a good role model for your kids.

Now I find myself doing the same thing. If a store clerk or a restaurant waitress gives me too much change or undercharges my credit card, I let them know about the error and reconcile the amount.  I am sure that my kids notice this too.

A few years ago, we discovered that Dad actually lied – ONCE.  After Pearl Harbor was attacked to start World War II, Dad tried to enlist in the U. S. Navy.   He was 16 years old at the time, and knew that the Navy required that enlistees be at least 18 years old.  So he fibbed that he was 18 years old on the enlistment form.  At the time, Dad was about 5 foot 2 inches tall and weighed a strapping 120 pounds. The Navy rejected him for being “too small”.  This was probably a good thing, since Dad was not a good swimmer.   Two years later, as a legitimate 18 year old, Dad was drafted into the U. S. Army and headed off to Europe to prepare for the Normandy invasion.  He was in such a hurry to serve his country, I think he can be forgiven for this one lie.

The Humble Soldier

 As kids, we found a medal with a purple ribbon hidden deep in the cedar chest.  Later Dad told us that it was his, a Purple Heart medal that he was awarded in World War II after being seriously wounded.  We never knew that he was injured in the war until we found that medal.  He never wanted to brag about his service in the war and never really talked about it unless we asked a lot of prying questions.  Even then, his answers were very brief, and he often changed the subject.

Like many men and women from his generation, Dad eagerly performed his duty… and because of his service and the service of so many others like him in the “Greatest Generation”, Americans enjoy freedom and prosperity like no other country in the world.

During one Christmas Eve dinner, Dad told us that 50 years ago that night, he was laying in a hospital in Italy.  During intense the fighting of the “Battle of the Bulge”, there was an explosion near his tank destroyer unit and shrapnel pierced his leg.  What amazed me was that this was the first I ever heard that story.  Throughout Dad’s life, that injury would manifest itself in other ailments.  But he never complained about it or used it as an excuse.  As a member of the Greatest Generation, he carried that shrapnel as a badge of honor and he was proud to serve our country so that others could be free.

What a Sense of Humor

I will always remember Dad’s great sense of humor. He had amusing little nicknames for family members (to minimize the embarrassment, the nicknames will not be shared here).  His smiling face beamed when people visited, even when he might be in pain or not feeling too well.  And that smile beamed ten times as bright when his grand-daughters walked in the room.

Dad always had a funny little story to brighten our day.  Now I find myself telling the same little stories, trying to make people feel at home in my home, just like he always did.   This was difficult at first for someone who used to be very shy, but I am getting there.

The longest running joke in the family is about Dad being the “master chef” and talking about the ravioli and the wedding soup that HE made for our traditional family dinners (Mom might have helped just a little bit).  Even his grand-daughters brought this up at every family dinner and enjoyed the laughter that followed.

A Spittin’ Image

Years ago, when I ran into friends who I hadn’t seen in a while, they would tell me that I “looked like my father”.  Now that my hair is receding and turning various shades of gray and white, my friends now say that I have “turned into my father”.

I consider that the greatest compliment and will strive to uphold the legacy Dad created and become the same type of role model for our family. 

Sam’s Legacy

Not everyone was fortunate enough to celebrate 83 years in this world, especially those who served bravely in World War II to protect our freedom, who labored long hours in the steel mills, and who guided three active sons.  Not to mention playing golf five days per week for many years during retirement.

Some men are regarded as heroes because they were sports stars, or because they built a fortune in business. Those men might have statues erected in their likeness or have buildings dedicated in their name. 

Dad’s legacy is framed in something much, much more important: being a great father, a leader, and a role model that everyone in our family can follow.

Because of these qualities, my hero will always be:  Samuel Dominic Sebastian