July 6, 2018
July 6, 2018
Dad was born on June 18, 1946 in Syracuse, New York to Clarence and Virginia Cattelane. He was the first born and after a few years was joined by his younger sister, Sharon and finally, younger brother Randy. Dad progressed through school and lettered in tennis at Westhill High School. It was shortly thereafter that he met and eventually wed his one true love, Joyce, in November 1966. Dad was dedicated to her until the very end and they spent almost every single day over 51 years together.
When my brother and I were very young, Dad took it upon himself to get his college degree. At the time, it wasn’t quite the waypost it is now and certainly, for a man, husband and father to do so in the late 70s was a laudable accomplishment. Dad worked full time, took night classes and helped Mom raise us and in 1979, he earned his engineering degree from Syracuse University at the age of 33. It reaffirmed his lifelong lesson to us that hard work was the pathway to success. If you knew my Dad at any point after this, it is a guarantee that he was wearing his beloved class ring.
My father was a hard working and meticulous man. He would not undertake any duty without making sure it was done exactly right. I often relay the story of how one summer he was staying at our summer house in the 1000 islands. My dad had to work during the week and I was home from college so I would stay at the house. Dad had designed and developed every square inch of the house and land and he instructed me to dig a ditch through the back yard that would allow water to drain and not flood the yard. To assist me, although I was working on my pre medicine degree, my father wrote me instructions, by hand, in exacting detail, that covered the front and back of three sheets of legal paper. Suffice to say that when the labor was finished, my father walked the entire length of the ditch and proclaimed it sufficient. I still have the original instructions. The ditch, as far as we know, still drains well.
My dad was a good man. He was a good man in the sense that we don’t really think about these days. He was dedicated to his family unit of four. He was unquestionably the leader and we followed him. He was proud of us but wasn’t big on hugs. He would do anything for us, but woe unto you if you weren’t doing the best you could or as he used to put it “applying yourself”. When it was time to do labor, especially in the days that we were building a house on Wellesley Island, New York, Dad was architect, designer, laborer and foreman all in one. There was always time for one more run with the wheelbarrow, one more tree to trim or remove and he would be the last one in to rest. Make no mistake, my brother and I learned those lessons of hard work, determination and perseverance at the foot of the master.
Many of you knew my dad at various points in his life. He was proud with a quiet dignity. He was an honest man. He loved his Lymans, the St. Lawrence River, his kids and especially his wife. In later life, he made many friends in North Port, Florida and even was employed at Disney World for a short period. After a mishap where he forgot his identification, he was released and he would recount to friends with dry humor that he had been fired by Mickey Mouse.
The disease that eventually took his life took his personality, his vitality and eventually his dignity. We will remember him fondly for his zest for life, his unbreakable will and effort, his profound wisdom to raise two boys into good men, his loyalty and love for his wife and his ability to be a doting grandfather to five grandchildren. Here’s to your ass, Dad. We’ll miss you.
When my brother and I were very young, Dad took it upon himself to get his college degree. At the time, it wasn’t quite the waypost it is now and certainly, for a man, husband and father to do so in the late 70s was a laudable accomplishment. Dad worked full time, took night classes and helped Mom raise us and in 1979, he earned his engineering degree from Syracuse University at the age of 33. It reaffirmed his lifelong lesson to us that hard work was the pathway to success. If you knew my Dad at any point after this, it is a guarantee that he was wearing his beloved class ring.
My father was a hard working and meticulous man. He would not undertake any duty without making sure it was done exactly right. I often relay the story of how one summer he was staying at our summer house in the 1000 islands. My dad had to work during the week and I was home from college so I would stay at the house. Dad had designed and developed every square inch of the house and land and he instructed me to dig a ditch through the back yard that would allow water to drain and not flood the yard. To assist me, although I was working on my pre medicine degree, my father wrote me instructions, by hand, in exacting detail, that covered the front and back of three sheets of legal paper. Suffice to say that when the labor was finished, my father walked the entire length of the ditch and proclaimed it sufficient. I still have the original instructions. The ditch, as far as we know, still drains well.
My dad was a good man. He was a good man in the sense that we don’t really think about these days. He was dedicated to his family unit of four. He was unquestionably the leader and we followed him. He was proud of us but wasn’t big on hugs. He would do anything for us, but woe unto you if you weren’t doing the best you could or as he used to put it “applying yourself”. When it was time to do labor, especially in the days that we were building a house on Wellesley Island, New York, Dad was architect, designer, laborer and foreman all in one. There was always time for one more run with the wheelbarrow, one more tree to trim or remove and he would be the last one in to rest. Make no mistake, my brother and I learned those lessons of hard work, determination and perseverance at the foot of the master.
Many of you knew my dad at various points in his life. He was proud with a quiet dignity. He was an honest man. He loved his Lymans, the St. Lawrence River, his kids and especially his wife. In later life, he made many friends in North Port, Florida and even was employed at Disney World for a short period. After a mishap where he forgot his identification, he was released and he would recount to friends with dry humor that he had been fired by Mickey Mouse.
The disease that eventually took his life took his personality, his vitality and eventually his dignity. We will remember him fondly for his zest for life, his unbreakable will and effort, his profound wisdom to raise two boys into good men, his loyalty and love for his wife and his ability to be a doting grandfather to five grandchildren. Here’s to your ass, Dad. We’ll miss you.
