Mr. Manobianco was my good friend, although to me was not Mr. Manobianco- he was Nemo. When my Brooklyn/NJ Italian was still developing, I confused Nonno with Nemo and thought Nemo really was his name. I called him Nemo for years- no one ever told me I had it wrong! He came to my birthday parties for many years (usually in dress shorts, socks and shoes despite it being a pool party) and was always the first one to give me a solid handshake and a big bold “buon compleanno”. Obituaries often mention how much the person loved their families; often times that isn’t the case. For Nemo- his love for his family and friends was a 100% true. Nemo was the great dad I always wished I had; he was a true role model for husbands and fathers.
Some day I hope to be up in heaven (which no doubt looks exactly like the welcome center lobby at Villa Roma), with the two of us sharing a conversation in “dialect” that I will not understand, but won’t matter because we’ll be too busy drinking wine and posing for pictures around our tavola di San Giuseppi with Jesus and the actual St. Joseph himself!
Riposa in pace Nemo.
