Dear Baby Marconi

You are nearly here and I can hardly wait to meet you! I’m assuming you’ll have gotten your long legs from me, because they haven’t let up for about 5 months. I’m hoping you’ll get your daddy’s dimples. But I am absolutely certain that no matter how you come you will be perfect.

We have been working on your name for a long, long time. We both believe that there is great significance in a name and we wanted to give you one that would best suit our very best intentions of raising you. Easier said than done. You will soon learn that we both value our heritage as well. We finally made the decision to name you after a very special man, whom you will unfortunately not meet in this lifetime…

I called him Daddy for 25 years before he died. You would have called him Papoo and I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that you would have adored him. He would have rang the doorbell incessantly every time he arrived to play with you. He would have given you backflips into the pool and taught you how to play soccer. He would have made you listen to his crazy Greek music and taught you some very interesting dance moves. He would have been your best pal.

But as fun-loving as he was, the legacy he left behind is actually something of much more worth. The characteristics that made him a man worth remembering are the ones your dad and I hope to pass on to you. Our hope and prayer is that as his name continues on through you, so too will this legacy…

He was brave. He left his country when he was 17 years old in hopes of finding better opportunities than he would have had otherwise. He left everything he knew and made a new life for himself in a country where no one spoke his language, where no one knew his family and where he had no advantages whatsoever. He took a big risk and it paid off. He supported a family of seven and had always been able to give us more than enough.

He valued family. We used to laugh at the simplicity of his coined phrase, “Family is family.” Us kids in our far superior English-speaking skills couldn’t understand the depth in this. But in getting to know him as an adult we came to see how much he sacrificed to protect not only our family of seven, but every in-law, cousin, aunt and uncle we acquired as we grew. One of the best ways he did this was by showing us that there is freedom in forgiveness. In the big things and in the small things. Better still to find that the freedom comes much more to the one who is giving it than those receiving it.

He showed us the strength of a servant. He loved having a full house of people; family, friends and all their kids. He always served up huge feasts and he usually cleaned up the messes too. He hand-crafted our entire yard complete with vineyard covered patios, swings, a pool and a bi-level tree house. He served. He always put others first. He expected very little in return.

He found the treasure of simplicity. Daddy accumulated almost nothing of his own. (Except a HUGE VHS library of movies he taped from the TV) But he had his own area called “behind the bar” which was strictly off limits to us. We always believed that was where he kept his best hidden treats and secrets. After he passed away and we had to go through his things, we found that his best hidden secrets and most valuable items were simple things like cards we had written him when we were little, medals we had won, school books, family albums and a few things he had brought from Greece. He was a simple man who lived a life of true abundance.

He loved our mom. He was fiercely loyal to her. He respected her. He protected her heart. He never stopped trying to win her over. As a father of five girls, there is no better way that he could have loved us than by giving us a shining example of what we should look for and expect in a man. I am grateful to him for the part he played in making sure I ended up your dad. Your dad is such a good man. He loves me so well. And I know you will learn from him.

Aristotelis means “the best of the best” and that is truly what he was. Your dad and I hope all of the very best things in life for you too. As much as I loved my daddy and want to honour him there is one more thing I want you to know… It actually wasn’t my idea or my insistence that you have his name. It was actually your dad, who knew him only a few years, who adamantly refused any other name I suggested. Everybody loved your Papoo. Everybody will love you too... So welcome, baby "Telly."