LOUIE BROWN

As remembered by Sister Barbara Brown

Pop worked swing shift at the local cement mill, but he always took time to play with us. He was a diehard New York Yankees fan, and since we had one TV, we all learned about baseball and enjoyed watching the Yanks. Pop also loved people. One of my favorite childhood memories was driving through our little town of Nazareth, Pa., with him. He would toot the horn and wave at so many people along the way. I was amazed at how many people he knew!

ANDREW BURANOSKY

As remembered by Sister Pat Marie Buranosky

My father was a man of faith! He became the man of the house at just 11 years of age after losing his own
36-year-old dad from pneumonia (contracted while helping to take care  of neighbors suffering from influenza during the 1918 pandemic). He helped put his younger siblings through school. It was while running from the game warden after shooting a deer out of season that he hopped a freight car from Renovo, Pa., to Pittsburgh. He met my mom in McKees Rocks and married her. His greatest joy was seeing his son, Dennis, receive Holy Orders.

EDWARD STEWART

As remembered by Sister Marguerite Stewart

My dad, Edward  G. Stewart, was born in the small town of Verda, Ky. He ran away from home at the age of 16 and joined the army. After his time in the service, he settled in Westfield, Mass., where he met my mother. 

He told us the story of when he called on her to ask her out. Mom’s first question was, “Are you Catholic?” When he said no, she told him to come back when he was. And he did. He truly loved his faith.

Dad died at the early age of 60, but he never lost his southern ways. He is remembered by those of us who knew and loved him for his kind, gentle and welcoming ways.  

RAYMOND CELASCHI

As remembered by Sister Nancy Celaschi

My father died when I had just finished first grade, so I don’t have very many memories of him, and my mother wasn’t one given to reminiscing. However, I remember a day very clearly when I was sitting on the grass in our backyard and my dad was sitting on the porch. The sun was shining and the birds were chirping, and my dad was whistling right back to them. It was a rather lengthy conversation, I recall. My 6-year old self was overwhelmed with amazement that my father could speak “bird.” Did this memory inspire my desire to become multilingual? I’ll never know. 

JOSEPH KUZMA

As remembered by Sister Roselyn Kuzma

My dad was the holiest person I knew. He attended many masses daily, sometimes five or six depending on the masses in the area. Today, many of his nine living children — as well as many of his grandchildren — also attend daily mass. They also continue praying the daily rosary.

Our dad was also very generous. I remember as a kid, we would help dad pack a large bag of veggies and fruit from our farm, and we would deliver them to his older sister, to Father Meko, and our Sisters at Holy Family Convent. Years later, Sister Pauline Sutara was a cook for the Sisters during those years. Years later, she told me what the veggies and fruit meant to her.  

Just recently, during my nephew’s wife’s two-year battle with cancer, one of my siblings suggested that we take a collection to help with the family’s bills. Dad’s legacy lives on.

My dad taught us many things, but prayerfulness and generosity were way above all the rest. We are very thankful. I cannot just thank God for dad now without mentioning how my mom was always there helping, too.

SAINT JOSEPH

As adopted by Sister Barbara Ann Webster

My father died when I was an infant. I grew up in a maternal setting. When I was 9, I decided I wanted a father, as all my friends had one. So one day after school, I went up to the little room we used as a prayer room, snatched a candle and the Bible, and set up what I thought was a fit and proper altar. I opened the Bible, lit the candle, and kissed the Bible saying, “St. Joseph, you are officially my father. Now don't forget that. Amen.” St. Joseph and I have been great friends ever since.

GEORGE DUBLINO

As remembered by Sister Georgette Dublino

I admire my father, George Olin Dublino, for being a man who was faithful to the challenges of fatherhood. He worked hard to provide for my sister and me despite the death of my mother at just 24. He did everything a father should do … and a mother, as well. Dad would take us shopping for new clothes and shoes that had to be fitted just right by an “expert” salesman. And what a great cook he was!

Whatever Dad was doing, I always wanted to be with him. He loved to surprise my sister and me by taking us fun places during our vacation time. Many times we would  go to Mill Creek Park and have a picnic supper. I still remember the time Dad planned an all-day trip on a ship on Lake Erie and really surprised us!

What I admire most about my dad is that he gave the very best of himself for us. When my sister and I grew up, Dad supported our “callings” — my sister and her husband raising a family of five boys, and me becoming a School Sister of St. Francis. When Dad died he could proudly go to God and say, “God, I did my best.”

Dad told us to always be kind to people and to respect them. I saw that was the way my Dad was. Sunday was the Lord’s Day, the day we went to church. When I asked Dad’s  permission to join the convent, it took awhile before he consented. When he finally did, he said to me, “If you are going to be a Sister, then be a good one!”

ZOLTAN PAPP

As remembered by Carol Ann Papp

Although my dad, Zoltan, was not Catholic, he, along with my mother Caroline, raised my sister Pat and me in the Catholic faith. He attended Mass every Sunday with us. Whenever I would visit home, as I was leaving, he would tap on the hood of the car and say, “Go with God.” Each time I’m in the car, I especially think of him since he is also the one who taught me to drive.

ANDREW BUCO

As remembered by Sister Karen Buco

My Dad was a gentle, kind, big-hearted man who patiently let me be at his side when he had things to fix. I was right there handing him the tools and, at times, even getting in his way. But he never yelled at me or chased me away. I spent a lot of time with him when he wasn’t at work. He took me on his fishing trips with his buddies and took me to the playground and the park. Even though he died in 1988, he was — and still is — the best Dad a girl could ever have.

ALBERT HROMULAK

As remembered by Sister Elaine Hromulak

I can’t help but note that the arms of my late father, Albert Hromulak, are extended around our entire family in this beloved photo. It’s how I remember him metaphorically, too. That and his words of wisdom: “It’s nice to be nice. Try it sometime.”