Heroes are people that we look up to, who made imprints on our lives, and who have done amazing things with their own lives. One of the biggest inspirations in my life was my grandfather. I was a lucky child because I grew up with one of my many heroes in my house. My grandfather was a man of few words, but when you were being a dumb ass he would sure tell you and then not talk to you for a few days until you figured it out.
His name was John A. Feola. He lived in Cooperstown, New York during the depression where his mother died when he was eleven years old. His brothers and sister were split into foster homes, and his younger brother (Frances), older brother (Anthony), and him were left with their abusive alcoholic father. He and Anthony were forced to drop out of school at eighth grade to help with bills.
He was a soldier in the 25th Infantry Division stationed in Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, Guadocanal December 1942-January 1943 launching an attacking and defeating strong Japanese forces, participated in extended combat into other Solomon Islands, which led to the Philippines in January 1945. The 25th Infantry Division held a record of 165 consecutive days in combat fighting. That line seems simple. Just another line in a history book, but for the people who lived it, they got to see the best and worst sides of mankind. My grandfather was discharged before the war ended. He married and created a family - two daughters (Geri & Theresa), two sons (John & James), and a third son (George) who was his nephew that he adopted (his sister's son who she had out of wedlock - a scandal back in those days). He had a life full of loss and hardships, but his family meant everything to him, and he was willing to sacrifice anything for them. Whether it was working three jobs when he was married to make ends meet, to helping his father keep the rest of his siblings together.
On May 18, 1997 my family lost him very suddenly in the afternoon to a heart attack. That image will be forever ingrained in my mind as I heard a loud thud hit the ground. Chaos ensued as ten year old me and my six-year-old brother grabbed our parents who did everything they could to save him until the ambulance got there. In this world, you never know what is going to happen one minute to the next. Right before my grandfather had the heart attack he was sneaking around corners scarring my brother and me. He was a healthy man who still drove (well), had no health problems besides slight diabetes, which he controlled by his diet, and then suddenly he was gone.
He was a son, a soldier, a father, a grandfather, and a great-grandfather. To him family was more important than anything and keeping family together was invaluable. John A. Feola was the most selfless person I have ever had the privilege of knowing. To this day, when I hear this quote I think of him the most - "True heroism is remarkably sober, very un-dramatic. It is not the urge to surpass all others at whatever cost, but the urge to serve others at whatever cost."
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