Bats, perhaps undeservedly, have a bad reputation.
Portrayed in media and movies as fearsome, blood draining predators, being wary of bats in your midst is a common theme for just about all of us.
But, bats are beneficial to us in many ways. According to the U.S. Fish & Wildlife service:
“Bats play an essential role in pest control, pollinating plants and dispersing seeds. Recent studies estimate that bats eat enough pests to save more than $1 billion per year in crop damage and pesticide costs in the United States corn industry alone. Across all agricultural production, consumption of insect pests by bats results in a savings of more than $3 billion per year.”
My grandfather wasn’t having any of that. More than a few years ago, when we both worked in the family restaurant, a bat made it’s way from an upper floor of the building to the ground floor to, per his view, become a menace to employees and customers alike.
Before the bat could get to the dining room, my grandfather picked up a broom, and with one well timed swing, knocked the bat out of the air to the ground, stunning it.
Before it’s composure could be regained, he flipped over an old bucket, trapping it underneath. At that point, I thought, “great – he’s going to bring the bucket outside, letting the critter back into the wild.”
But, that wasn’t quite his plan.
Instead of following a humane “catch and release” plan, the man I called “Pop” flipped the bucket off the bat, while in the same motion swinging the broom down, smashing the bat against the floor.
Not once or twice, but several times, to my youthful horror. His plan all along.
Protection of family, property, and customer – especially the ones eating my Nonna’s pasta e fagioli in the dining room.
Aside from his violent tendencies toward nocturnal, flying mammals, my grandfather was a work and family centric man with a kind heart that matched his efforts. Other than protecting kin and customers from bat intrusions during a meal, he exhibited so many other skills.
My grandfather was no one-talent specialist. He was a true renaissance man, of the blue collar variety.
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A clogged toilet in need of attention? It was no match for him. Fixed in a jiffy.
Someone flushes their dentures accidently down the same said toilet? No matter. Toilet taken apart, dentures saved.
Industrial dishwasher doesn’t meet the temperature requirements to pass a health department inspection? Watch his plumbing and electrical skills go to work. No match for my grandfather.
Frantic call from his sister-in-law that an electrical outlet in the house is on fire? No need to call for help! Fire out, damage limited – no match.
Need to grind, by hand, ten loaves of bread in 15 minutes so my grandmother can make meatballs? Again, no match.
Need to work an eight hour shift at the factory, then another shift at the family restaurant? Six days a week? Time and hard work were no match for my grandfather. He went through physical work shifts like a buzzsaw.
Settling in a foreign land, with no grasp of English, and taking every dirty job that not many would take, so that you could provide for your family? No dirty job could match him.
As I wrote previously, coming to America was just the first step at the bottom of the hill. He was relentless in his ascent up the mountain of the American dream.
That dream must have looked impossible to a man whose English was rough, and came to the USA with primarily physical skills.
His was the story of thousands of Italians who emigrated to these shores, to the land of hope and dreams for sons and daughters to follow.
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The recently late, great songwriter Kris Kristofferson was an artistic renaissance man. Elon Musk has transformed more than a couple of industries on the technology side. My grandfather Sebastian survived and thrived in America with his ability to adjust and adapt to any situation.
There were times in his life that I’m sure he thought the odds were insurmountable. You would have never known from his demeanor. He was a straightforward, stoic guy that always seemed to be on a mission. His mission: survival and success, at all costs.
He was, and is, one of my heroes.
Thank you Anthony Prezio for the initial inspiration for this article. The memories we’ve brought up together have made me laugh, reflect, and feel grateful.
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Although it looks as if this rainy spring will hang on at least one more weekend, with uncooperative showers and chilly winds, the party will go on for all of us. In the past, we’ve consumed enough clams to warrant renaming the weekend Clam-a-palooza.
A good looking guy who was always laughing and in good humor, he was, as my Nonna would state, very popular with the ladies. So much so that he would draw big crowds of them at the ice cream shop where he worked before going off to war.
Joe DeGiorgio 