Charlie was totally and completely color blind. Every morning, I would put together his clothes for that day. First, the suit, then the shirt, tie, socks, and shoes, all perfectly color coordinated. We were all running kind of late one morning,but the clothes were still all matched for him. He came in the door after work, stood in the doorway, and said , I'm never going to live this down. With all the rushing around that morning, Charlie took shoes out of the closet on his own. I looked down at his feet and started laughing! He walked around all day with one blue and one brown shoe on!! Not a very good match for a grey suit.

July 4th 1993

Today we were talking about Dad and this memory popped into my head. It is hard to remember where you were last year let alone 19 years ago but I remember exactoy where I was. I had just become Aunt Jenny for the first time (Happy Birthday Matt!!!). This was my first July 4th in NJ and we wanted to watch the fireworks so we started to head over to 4H but we quickly realized that there was no way we were getting anywhere near there. We pulled over on 206 and grabbed a seat in this big field and watched the fireworks. I remember Dad getting emotional about being a grandfather for the first time. I don't remember all of the details of the day but that particular moment stuck with me.

Some photos that Rob sent me...

First thoughts on a missing brother

It's hard to think of what to use as a first post in a new blog, harder still when trying to encompass an entire lifetime. Do I go the humorous route (almost impossible not to, considering the subject), the sentimental (almost impossible considering the author), the morose and dark (considering the ethnicity) or the low-key, to allow room later for the really good stuff?

I think I'll just take the Rorschach route. What did I think of when I saw the photo of Charles? I know, everyone else called him Charlie, but to me he was always Charles. Don't know why, he just was. Anyway, the first thing I thought of was Zest. He did everything with zest. Nothing was ever boring or mundane to him. If he bought a pack of cigarettes, he smoked the whole pack. If he got a new kind of saw, he would end up slicing off his finger trying to make it cut something it shouldn't.

Turns out that was also his worst enemy, but that's for when I get dark and morose… later.

Here's One...

I think I was in sixth or seventh grade, and I was "dating" (the quotes signify that I mean dating in the loosest possible terms, it was middle school ferchrissake) this girl, Bonnie. Since Dad was always trying to be the coolest old man on earth, he offered to drive Bonnie, her friend Allison, and me to the ice skating rink one Friday night for a date.


See where I'm going with this?   My dad...driving...trying to be cool...


So I'm pretty sure that during the car ride to the rink, Allison may have vomited, a little. My father was not known for his grace and restraint behind the wheel. During the entire trip, Meatloaf's "Bat Out of Hell" album was blasting through the "finely-crafted 462-speaker Nakamichi sound system" in his Lexus (oh God! him and his Lexii, that's another post altogether!) and we were having a great time, notwithstanding the crying, vomiting, and shouts of terror.


Needless to say, we arrived at the ice rink in one piece. Dad didn't hang out or linger. He just dropped us off and took off (not even sure that he came to a full stop). As soon as he left I was petrified to think what the girls' reactions would be to the carnival ride we just de-boarded. Turns out, they thought he was the awesomestest dad in the whole world.


Well-played, Mr. Giardina, well-played.

Opening post... Brief description... Reasons.

Ok, so here it goes. It has been a very long time since I (we,us,the world) lost my dad. Sixteen years as of this writing. I miss him very much, but more than that, I am starting to forget him.

Lemme'splain:
1. My dad wasn't alive for the era of digital photography in which our pictures are taken every 3 minutes, so I don't have many images of him.
2. He wasn't famous and didn't have books written about all of his conquests and accomplishments, so I don't have many stories about him.
3. It is typically very painful for anyone who was close to him to speak about him at length, so I don't talk about him much.

What I am left with is my own memory, which is fading as it gets older. I am left with the inability to answer questions that Nicholas Jr may have about his Pop Charlie. I am left with a growing, uneasy feeling that I will forget.

That is what brings us here. The purpose of this blog is for anyone and everyone who knew my dad to post stories, images, jokes, anecdotes, parables, one-liners,..... Dirty lymericks, whatever. Any and all memorabilia related to my dad, Charlie Giardina

Come back often. I will add anyone who would like to be an author. For those who don't wish to be an author, email me your stuff and I will post on your behalf.

And most importantly, PLEASE, I BEG OF YOU, tell everyone that you know that knew him to come and document his life.

Thank you very much.