GAMES — Remembering Julio Rossi For All He Was

What do you write when the man who raised you passes away? What do you say when the guy who gave you everything from work ethic to wisdom to personality to love of sports isn’t around anymore?
Since the stunning May 23 diagnosis, our family, has mentally prepared for the end of dad’s time on earth. The feelings bounced from bitterness about the damn cancer, to gratitude, to sorrow, to appreciation, to enduring love, and finally, to acceptance.
My mother and brother were by his side for every grueling moment of the past two months of dad’s declining health. The invasive illness robbed Pop of his unconquerable strength and jovial laughter.
I stopped in to my parents’ Rio Grande home just about every day and was joined by many grateful friends and relatives who made their way to the quiet street by the lake.
What follows is a snapshot of a life which began during the unmatched anguish of The Great Depression and endured into a triumph that only hard work and devotion to family can achieve. My father sacrificed everything to provide better lives for us. He and my mother endured the hard times with a never-quit work ethic and the pride of their Italian heritage.
Julio Mario Rossi was born on Wildwood’s West Schellenger Avenue on Jan. 8, 1930. He graduated from St. Ann’s and started helping my grandfather, Louis, at age 12. He joined his father’s landscaping business full time after leaving Wildwood High during the fall of his freshman year.
In 1948, the family purchased a dump truck and a $3,000 parcel so they could get topsoil and gravel for landscaping. They soon discovered that a new highway, the Garden State Parkway, was to be built through their land, so they bought ground a bit further west in Rio Grande in 1952.
One year later they built the Parkway Motel. The family occupied the first two units of the cozy 12-room concrete structure.
In the summer of 1963 they moved into a new home at Fifth Street and Wildwood Boulevard, adjacent to the motel along busy Route 47.
Julio had been drafted into the U.S. Army in December 1955 and spent two years in Hanau, Germany. After his December 1957 discharge he returned to Italy where he and Lina Salone were married in a Loreto Aprutino chapel on Jan. 25, 1958.
They had two sons. Bob made his debut in November 1958 while I’m a Pisces, born in February 1961.
Tiring of cutting grass, Julio began a 27-year tenure with the Cape May County Road Department in 1964. I remember the countless times he was summoned in the middle of the night to plow snow or to deal with some highway emergency.
The Parkway Motel suffered significant damage from an April 1982 Palm Sunday fire, but Lina and Julio, a forever hardworking pair, endured and rebuilt.
After 50 years of homemade hospitality, the venerable establishment was sold on Dec. 2, 2002. The Rossi’s relocated to a quieter lot a few blocks across Delsea Drive.
While they were folks of few hobbies, Julio and Lina were essentially reborn with the births of their grandsons in 1990 and ’92, respectively. Philip and Peter were their all-consuming joy as “Pop Pop” and “Nana” eagerly provided all of the tender loving care any kids could receive and then some.
As they did every few years, my parents visited The Old Country of Italy this spring to reminisce with their many relatives and friends. All the while Pop was eagerly anticipating his return home to witness Philip’s May 7 Cape May County Policy Academy graduation. It was indeed a proud day for Pop as he maintained a smile that seemed to stretch from Marmora to Cape May Point.
We have a cherished photo of the Rossi men standing together outside of the ceremony. Pop, the patriarch, smiling in front of his uniformed grandson, is, as they say, worth a thousand words.
By this time my brother had noticed several instances that were not indicative of Pop’s behavior. When other, more cognizant symptoms emerged, Bob whisked Pop to the hospital where the devastating news came. It was May 23.
A spring heat wave endured as Pop’s condition worsened and he was forced to miss Peter’s June 23 graduation in sweltering conditions at Lower Cape May Regional.
The days that followed were dedicated to providing every ounce of comfort and compassion we could muster for Pop. It was the very least any of us could do for a man who did everything for us.
I will never forget the phone call and life-changing events of May 23 or 1:30 p.m. last Saturday when I was told he was gone.
Pop was fun and full of wit and wisdom. I often think of this timeless nugget he would espouse after reading the paper or watching television news. “We want justice,” he would say before pausing to add, “but not in my house.”
Julio Rossi shares a significant piece of whatever I have achieved. I owe him an apology for each time I have failed because he did not raise me to do the wrong thing. He was the ultimate provider. I had whatever I needed. We all did. I am eternally grateful for all that he sacrificed so that we could live a better life.
And indeed we have.
Reach Rossi at joerossi61@comcast.net
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