JOSEPH MICHAEL MACINANTE

Well, what a full life my dad lived.

He was born in the front bedroom of the family home at Randwick. Son of Johnny and Rose. Nurse Briscoe who had delivered Uncle Terry 18 mths earlier, deliver dad at 3am. Even then he was a night owl. They lived in Rose Bay for 8 years. It was there that Nanna fell pregnant with Helen. They moved to Summer Hill to prepare for Helen's arrival. Sadly dad's father died when Helen was three months old. These were tough early days through the depression and Nanna had the very hard task of bringing up three children on her own. Her children are a credit to her strong will and determination.

Joe went to St Mary Magdalene school at Rose Bay till year 3 then St Thomas Christian Brothers Lewisham. He was full of mischief and got into lots of trouble. He learnt to fight by defending his honor when he was called a wog. I'm sure if he were born in these days he would be diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder because of his hyperactivity.

He was, from those early days, meticulous in his personal appearance. In talking to Nanna about those times she recalled how clean and tidy Joe and Terry were for little boys.

When he left school he joined the Navy. He trained in Canberra as a telegraph operator. I remember he showed my boys how every spare moment sitting on a train or a bus, they would use their finger on their knee and practise quietly tapping out messages. Joe was the youngest qualified operator in his group. He got boys pay until he turned 18 Three and six a day, compared to 6 shillings a day when he became an adult. While at Canberra he played rugby. He maintained an interest in football and often at dinner at our place he would put the football on the background.

His military career and his mates meant a lot to him. He told us lots of stories about his bell bottom trousers and managing his uniform, pretend to blow his bos'ns whistle and pipe us aboard, playing two up, sleeping in a hamock and the importance of the discipline he learnt. However, on the other hand, his old mates Robert King and Howard Cashell told us how they ignored the discipline and went over the fence for a drink, to see the girls or go to a movie.

He was posted to Darwin and on the way he met Margaret Dwyer, who not too long after became our mum. They met at Port Augusta station in September 1947. When he asked her if he could carry her bags, she duly let him do so. Dad was on route with 6 other sailors to Coonawarra Naval Base and mum was travelling with 2 other girls to the Northern Territory administration base.

They spent 3 days on the a train called "The Gann" to Alice Springs and 3 days on a bus to Darwin. They got to know each other a bit. They didn't meet again in Darwin until Christmas Day at Mass. From what I gathered pretty girls were very scarce in Darwin and dad was considered very lucky to have a girl. The friendship grew.

He left the Navy at twenty and was a telegraphist at the Department of Civil Aviation at Mascot. One stormy night a lightning strike travelled through to his headset badly damaging his ears and that was the end of that career.

Mum and dad were married at St Michaels and St John's Cathedral at Bathurst on 9 th of September 1950, the day before dad's 21st birthday. They lived in Nanna's house, at Summer Hill because Nana had just gotten remarried. During the time at Summer Hill dad was very involved with the Church. He was a natural organiser for a lot of functions, but particularly he called the housie numbers. I remember fondly his housie calls.,... key of the door 21, two fat ladies 88 and his favorite "legs 11" don't forget to whistle. There were lots of church picnics, lots of parties, and a fun loving crowd : the McGees, the Beaches, the Keens, the Lawthers to name a few.

At that time dad was working as a truck driver and also driving hire cars. I remember I used to go with him in the truck and stand behind his shoulder. One day, mum dad and I were in the car when a truck was blocking our lane and I spoke my first full english sentence. It was "Move over you big bastard." It's obvious where I learnt that from. I guess he was always impatient to get to the next thing to do. And that didn't change till the last. Just recently we talked about how he got to our house because he always knew a better short cut or a faster way than me. He was one for speed.

The Defina Family owned a bit of land at Cabramatta and Uncle Bob sold mum and dad some land for practically nothing with no interest and Dad got a war service loan of $7,000 and built a home. So we moved to Cabramatta in 1962 and that marked a different stage in our life. Back then it was in the country and we were the first house in the street. I remember the long drives from Cabramatta to Rose Bay to visit Nana and Pop. Again Dad involved himself in the Cabramatta Church community, housie, counting money after the collections on Sunday and singing the Loudest "We stand for God and his glory" you would ever hear. Paul and I would cringe in the pew.

It was driving to work one day when we lived at Cabramatta that he hurt his neck. He was hit from behind by a 7 tonne truck loaded with soap and got severe whiplash. This led to him wearing a neck brace which I'll get to later. It also led to many sleepless nights throughout his life and a lot of pain which he bore with good grace. As many of you know, a sneeze for dad was a big event... he would brace himself against the nearest wall hold himself tight and then let it happen. His neck brace went with him most places and became a bit of a signature item. He told us how one day after he won a bowling competition, one of the opposition came up to him and asked him where he could get one of those posture support neck braces as he wanted a bowling aid just like that.

On one of the cruises he took the family on, there was a cyclone and lots of people were badly injured. It was on the Himalaya on the way back to Sydney across the Tasman Sea. As dad walked off the ship with his neck brace on he was the centre of attention for the media.

His next career was in the timber game. I remember from early times he always had a tape measure on his belt and a pencil either in the side of his long socks or behind his ear. Timber formed a major part of his working life and that is why we felt it appropriate that we should plant some trees in his name. I'll miss him not being able to tell me if it's Tasmanian Oak or cedar or Kauri Pine etc.

He was a driver and salesperson for Ralph Simons timber which I think became Plycor Doors and was eventually taken over by Timber Investments. He worked his way up from a truck driver to the managing director - what an achievement. He became chairman of the Door Manufacturers and the Kitchen Cabinet Manufacturers Association. He later owned his own furniture company - Grotto Furniture, with two close friends from Plycor days. I used to call it grotty furniture which irritated him, but a daughter can get away with some things. He supplied the bottom end of the market, selling through Nock and Kirbys. His business sense was fantastic.

When he took over Grotto, they sold most of what made the least profit and less of the best profit maker. He turned that around and did well. In both the businesses he was the manager of, they went bad after he left them. It was only his skill and personality that made them strong and profitable.

He was an advocate of management by walking around. Even though he knew his foreman Alex was out making a delivery, he would walk right through the factory asking "Is Alex here?" He just wanted his blokes to be on their toes knowing that he could, and would, walk through the place at any time. He was not a front office boss. He drove the forklift, loaded the truck, drove the truck, and could work every machine in the place. He also knew, however, that the business could not be just him. He used to say often that the most important person in his business was the person who answered the phone - because that set the tone of dealings with the business.

He knew a business opportunity when he saw one. One of the machines he bought for his factory had potential, so he took on marketing it for the owners. In his usual fashion, he exhibited it at the furniture trade fair and won the award for best exhibitor at the fair. He passed on such good ideas. He told Reece to spend $10 on Xmas cards for his customers when he was a 9 year old paper. Reece was flabbergasted at the extra Xmas tip money he got as a result.

To say dad was a successful business man is an understatement. Yes of course he managed business and finances well, but he did so with the highest level of integrity and principles, and with an enthusiasm that infected those who did business with him or for him. His business acumen meant that he didn't need to specialise in any area - he moved through selling, credit control, production management, and innovation. He was in timber, doors, cupboards, and in recent years was into first aid for failing businesses and receiver management. Despite retiring a number of years ago, he was still working to this year for a heavy lifting and transport company, his last task doing a quote for a major moving job in China. I know Marayker and John will miss him too.

Dad put into his business life a whole lot more than others. He always had regard for the personal circumstances of those he did business with and associated with. This set him apart from others. Nothing was ever too great a problem to handle. If you were with dad, your problem seemed to reduce in size and importance.

Tough times taught dad many of his lessons in life and he has transferred those lessons to Paul and me, to his grandchildren, and I guess to many of us here today. We will all miss his advice and support. Talking about advice he used to call my three boys "trainee terrorists" and there was no shortage of advice on parenting for Gary and I and of course directly to his grandsons.

In some ways he was a tough dad. I remember when I got a teachers scholarship and received $9.80 a week. He made me pay 20% of that for board and lodgings. At the time it seemed a bit tough, but it taught me the value of money, and Paul and I have appreciated and benefitted greatly from lots of lessons he gave us.

He was protective also. I was never allowed to go out in a car because dad said they were moving bedrooms. My boyfriends had to park their car and take me out on the bus or train. When we came home, he would come out on the verandah and rattle the milk bottles to let me know it was time to come in. Fortunately Gary survived the rigours of a protective Italian father. However he had to ask dad's formal permission to marry me and got a 1/2 hour lecture about what was expected of him. Gary still hasn't told me all the details, but I assume dad's high expectations extended to what was expected of a son-in-law.

Even when we got married, he explained the financial options involved in choosing a wedding or eloping and putting the money towards a deposit on a house. He offered Gary the $1500 and the use of a ladder if we chose to elope.

It was at Cabramatta that dad started his love affair with bowling, joining St John's Park Bowling Club. He won many prestigious events there. He joined South Strathfield in 1975, serving on the committee and being president from 1987 to 1990. He was elected a life member at the 1995 AGM.

Between joining South Strathfield and 1996, dad won the club singles 6 times, the pairs 4 times, the triples 4 times and the fours twice. Although he left to bowl with West Strathfield, he continued on as Club Coach, a position which he held for many years, proudly claiming to have taught many of the South Strathfield members. He made sure he spent time coaching the younger bowlers and the women. You might think the latter was just because he had an eye for the ladies, but he genuinely wanted to give to others. He also continued to take his monthly turn on serving the Rotary members.

During this year, dad won the Zone 11 pairs, and fours, as well as representing the Zone in the State InterZone championships in the Maitland area. Dad was a national umpire and coach and his name is on the honour boards many times. His achievements this year have not been matched at the club before now.

On the green he was known as Bravo Joe. Bowlers would normally praise a good shot with "great shot" or "big bowl" . Not dad - his big deep voice would be heard aroung the rink saying "BRAVO".

He was particularly proud of his coaching. One of his students told me of all the little sayings like "Draw for dough, drive for show". He still thinks after 6 years that what dad taught was true of the game of bowls. His students learnt a lot about drawing instead of driving, standing at all times when playing skip, do not praise the opposition's bad bowls. One student, Simon, told us that of all the bowlers he has met, none stood out like Joe, his greatest mentor, who was like a grandfather to him. Simon noted what we have also found, praise from Joe was a wonderful experience.

I'm sure that if there is a bowling club in heaven, dad will be there organising special days and events, offering coaching lessons, giving advice, and playing in the heavenly championships with the same passion and commitment he did here on earth.

If he is not bowling up there he is fishing. You can't believe how pleased he was when I married a marine biologist who brought him abalone and fish. He loved fishing at Bundeena as I said earlier. He used to go fishing with Father Brown, David Lee up the street, Pino, Tony Herbert and anyone else who offered.

And if he is not bowling or fishing up there, he is cooking. Nanna was the best Italian cook around but dad and Aunty Helen wrestled it out for the 2nd place. His pasta sauce was fantastic, especially the marinara. His risotto was unbelievable. And so was nearly everything else he cooked. He put heart and soul into it like he did everything else. When you sat down to dinner with dad, the courses just kept coming and coming. It was like eating at the best Italian restaurant.

And he would never come empty handed when he visited - he was a very generous man to everybody. There would always be some sauce, or his home made salami, or bottle of tomatoes or some fruit and vegetables. That was particularly so when he and Victor owned the fruit distribution business at the markets. That was one of his better jobs - we could all eat some of the profits.

He was incredibly proud of his Italian heritage, could speak the language and helped pass on some of the family traditions like making his own tomato puree for spagetti sauce, own wine vinegar and of course grow his own lettuce, tomatoes, radishes etc.

Some of his friends talk of the time they would spend with him at the meal table. Graham Parker recalled dad saying once " You never grow old sitting around the table" and most of you here would have spent some time talking, laughing, eating, and sharing the qualities that made dad the man he was.

Now to another great love. It was about the time dad moved from St Johns Park club to South Strathfield that Molly and the O'Reillys came into his life. He brought into their life the Italian way, the strong love of family, and his dynamic, at first overwhelming, personality. Molly's mother Bridget would often say "Doesn't he ever stop?" Many of you might recall him saying at one time or another how he needed to slow down for fear of "busting his foofer valve".

Dad actually thought the O'Reillys should greet each other with a hug, kiss or handshake, not just a casual goodday or a nod of the head.

He came to a family where the mother had all her strong Irish beliefs and superstitions. Dad's recounting to my boys about Mrs O'Reillys dislike for the colour green had them spellbound for an hour. On his first Christmas with the O'Riellys dad took the drinks in a green esky - guess what - the esky was instantly dispatched to the balcony with dad left in wonderment.

His new father in law was a strong Scottish, unionist labor man with roots in the local party machine. For those of you who have discussed politics with dad you can imagine the pointed discussions which ensued between them. Molly's father Sam used to call him Joe, the Godfather. Molly's family assure us that Bridget will have by now, greeted, kissed, cuddled and embraced Joe as only she could in her Irish way.

Dad showed his compassion for Molly's parents through their difficult later life. You will all know that he was also a most devoted son to his own mother, our Nanna, or little Nanna as my boys call her. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her. We know how she will miss him.

Dad demonstrated to his new Irish family his love for Molly and their determined effort to reach goals as they made their way through life. As in everything he had high expectations of himself. It was important that he be a good husband and father, grandfather, uncle, brother and son.

In fact, as he became a grandfather, I watched him mellow a bit. He became gradually accepting of more modern things. Not music of course, but Paul's unconventianal clothes, - (but never his unmatched thongs) - our modern approach to parenting, Ellouise's green hair. He learnt that other people had a different way and I detected there was an appreciation that something was no longer right or wrong, just different.

Over the last ten years I have also enjoyed watching a stronger bond grow with Paul.

As time went on Dad also started to master modern technology. On one of his consulting jobs, they said, "Of course you are aware of this computer software aren't you?" He said yes, and then spun a story about not being told critical information and managed to get the girl concerned to show him how to turn the computer on and run the program without her realising he didn't have a clue. He certainly had the gift of the gab.

More recently, he went and did a computer course. I think that's the only bit of advice of mine he ever took. He loved sending emails to Terry, his brother, in Queensland and would often show us proudly what Terry could do on his computer and then set about mastering a new technique.

The computer did open up some gift ideas for the man who had everything. I won't tell you about the screen saver my sons bought him two Xmases ago.

He still didn't master programming the video or tuning the car radio however, and frequently called on grandson Adam to do that. And there were quite a number of phone calls to Julian, his computer advisor, or my Gary to sort out a database or spreadsheet problem. Oh to be able to whinge that dad was keeping Gary up past his bedtime now!

And talking about phones, we should have one as one of his symbols. He spent half of his life with a phone in his ear. I mentioned earlier how he thought his telephonist was the most important employee. He had the most amazing phone manner and voice. He even first met Molly on the phone.

The computer didn't save him time so that he could slow down though. Dad was a committed time manager, allocating time to meet and honour all commitmments. He even changed dentists and sent his doctor a bill for his waiting time, because he did not believe that their time was more valuable than his. One of his other sayings was true of him "if you want something done, ask a busy person".

And he was never shy about accepting commitments. If it had to be done, he was there to volunteer. He organised and collected for Red Cross calling and the Salvation Army Red Shield Appeal. He would happily be the master of ceremonies at weddings, 21st birthdays and other functions. As many of you know, he was one of the motivators for keeping the annual Macinante family picnic going. We have to all keep it going, despite losing Elettra, Aunty Ann, dad, and some of our other elders.

I know this is a bit close to home but I used to call him the eulogie king. He was so good at it.

You wouldn't believe how many people told us, when we rang them with the sad news, that it just couldn't be. He was going to deliver their eulogy. He was the greatest story teller. He could turn a normal business trip into a fascinating dinner conversation with his unique observations on life and people. He visited his father's birthplace in 1981 and found the house he lived in before it was destroyed by an earthquake. His telling of that particular tale of discovery was just spellbinding.

Recently, as an olympic volunteer, you can only imagine the time he had talking to all the people he drove around. And it was then that he utilised one of his greatest skills - getting things done despite the system. At the olympics, he had to walk a long way to get to and from the car pool area. He along with many of the volunteers found this difficult to manage. Dad found a few ways to con a lift. One way he sussed out was to get a lift on the disabled person' trolley bike. He said to the driver "I've got this bone in my leg." It wasn't a lie, but it got the rules bent his way.

He really was the ultimate extrovert. He made friends with the greatest of ease. You only had to be with him a short time to know he was one in a million. People he met on his overseas trips, whether business or pleasure, contacted him afterwards and they would dine together in Sydney. Many stayed lifelong friends.

And how he loved travelling. Another of his favourite sayings was how he was going to "get the visa card smoking". He left with Paul and I a love of travel. He used to say the Government should send every 18 year old overseas at taxpayers expense so they could see what real life was like elsewhere and appreciate what they had. He was really disappointed when he got sick that he might have to put off his and Molly's trip to Singapore and cruising the coast of Malaysia. He also had to put off a special lunch on the central coast with some old friends, he wasn't real impressed about missing that either, or the proposed business meeting about a new timber venture in Fiji.

Dad would often hold court and when he walked into a room he would almost light it up with his presence. To anyone else that would sound "over the top" but I know to you all it rings true. He had a knack of making everyone seem special. We were all either his "best daughter", "favourite cousin", "best No 1 granddaughter". To his friends it would always be " love you like a brother"

He was a fantastic grandfather to our 3 boys. He gave them lectures we never dared to do. They took it in their stride.. For his 71st birthday, Caitlin and Bryanna brought down their dancing shoes and ghetto blaster and put on a show for him. Their efforts and dad's catering turned it into a special event for the six grandchildren. Paul and Deborah deeply mourn for Joe and their loss of the wonderful grandfathering he would have done for their children. And dad, if you are listening up there, take a look - you finally got your grandsons to dress up in decent clothes.

The last twelve months with him have been wonderful for him -he celebrated a suprise 70th birthday party, a trip to Alaska, the new milennium, his oldest grandchild's 21st, the olympics, and a trip to China. That was somewhere he never thought he would go in his lifetime. He was also bowling the best in his life.

It just hasn't continued though. We recently had dinner to celebrate dad and Molly's 24th wedding anniversary. He bought the usual box of food "Never go anywhere empty handed" and told us all the olympic stories. But he was a bit worn out and said something that hinted to Gary that he knew the pains he got from time to time were more than indigestion. I think he knew he should slow down. We all used to joke about how he was "heart attack material" but we really didn't believe it. Everyone believed he was invincible.

He went into hospital for tests a fortnight ago. When I visited him the night before his operation he was busy chatting up the nurse and displaying his humor. When asked by the nurse "Are you alergic to anything ? he replied. "Only Dogs!"

His last few hours in hospital were very special to us. He was surrounded by the people he loved. My three sons had been to visit him. It was particularly gratifying for me as a mother and daughter to watch Number two grandson Isaac stroke dads hair. He had beautiful head of grey hair He knew his children were well established healthy and happy with partners who are wonderful and six healthy and active grandchildren to carry on his genetic heritage. When he died it was peaceful, and in fact quite amazing. As the priest crossed his forehead with the final blessing, the lines on the medical monitor went flat. It was as though he was waiting for that reassurrance, blessing and absolution.

He went out in style, waiting for our permission to go and also the God in whom he believed deeply.

Dad was the ultimate fighter and positive thinker and that is why his death has come as a huge shock to all. In short he was a giant of a man - not in stature but in the qualities and characteristics that set some men and women above their peers. He lived a life with passion and commitment that set an example for all of us to try to aspire to. In so doing he touched and influenced the lives of a host of people and left us all the better for having the privilege of being a part of his life.

He has also given us one last lesson. As dad would often say, "if you pay for your experience, keep your receipts. " So if you are breathless or have funny indigestion, take some time to relax and get it checked out.

He lives on in the memories of times we all shared with him and this must assist in overcoming the loss felt by so many of us. We must merely be thankful that we were allowed to share part of him, and keep smiling because that's the way he would want it to be.

So how do we fill the hole and make sense of our loss. When I was feeling pretty cheated the other day by his sudden death I heard a little voice in my head. Another one of those sayings "Count your blessings Kerri." I reminded myself that death is part of life and dad used to say to me "live one day at a time."

I console myself with the knowledge that he was a vibrant and dynamic man still in his prime at 71. He was a role model for anyone who thinks that life begins at 40 and then again at 50, and again at 60 and 70. We didn't have to see him reduce his lifestyle to below 110% - that would not have been Joe Macinante. We can remember him as the man we once knew, not a shadow of himself to be nursed through a long illness. And we can count the blessing that he has brought us all together, - friends, family, colleagues and associates, and because we have him in common we are part of each other. Dad was only limited by his physical body. Now he is free.

Count your blessings!