Francisco Emmolo

Francesco Emmolo was born on November 2, 1944 in Vittoria, Sicily. At the age of 3 his family emigrated to Buenos Aires, Argentina by boat in search of a better life. He was the third oldest of 6, 5 brothers and a sister. He worked hard all his life, and from a young age you would find him selling watermelons from a horse drawn carriage or helping in his father’s store. His sister Angela Maria has never forgotten him putting the money together for her Quinceanera or managing to send his parents back to Italy one last time before their passing. Nothing was more important to him than knowing his own father was proud of him (and he was not an easy man to please). He is predeceased by his parents, Giovanna and Giuseppe, as well as two of his beloved brothers, Giovanni and Angelo. He would love to tell stories about them getting into trouble and getting kicked out of school. If one fought, they all fought. Told by him, the Emmolo boys had quite the reputation. He is survived by Vicente and Jose (Pipo). Vicente who always made him laugh and Pipo who he could always depend on. “Pipo will fix it”. In 1971 he immigrated to the U.S. on a temporary work Visa, without definitive plans to stay. He would tell of getting off that plane at JFK, walking through a tunnel of snow in the dark with just a thin trench coat and very little money to his name, wondering what the hell he was thinking coming to this place. He would go on to meet our mother, Geraldina, solidifying his stay in this country. They married in 1975 and were together until her untimely death in October of 2021, something he never recovered from. While rain must fall in all lives, this was his Tsunami. He had very little formal education but was the smartest man we knew. He eventually got the job that changed his life at a company called GS (Garden State Lithographers) in Carlstadt NJ. He loved for people to know that he got that job through affirmative action. “You’re Spanish? We have a job for you!”. He started out cleaning that place and eventually worked his way up to Assistant Plant Manager. He at one time held the title of ”Offset Stripper”. My mother loved to tell people her husband was a stripper. He color corrected projects for Time Magazine, Entertainment Weekly, and even Sports Illustrated. He would travel around the U.S. and meet all of these “big shots”. He couldn’t believe that this man with no education and heavily accented English could rise so high. The owners of that company saw great promise in him, something he was immensely proud of until the day he died. He loved to entertain, a master storyteller. He and Geraldina enjoyed nothing more than a house full of friends and family to feed. He was a master asador and liked nothing more than people to tell him how good his food was. In fact, when Jennifer came along after marrying his son in 2017, he made it a point to boast how she would only ever eat his BBQ chicken. He was always the loudest at the table, a ballbuster in true Argentine fashion. He was also a sore winner. He would ply his guests with wine and then challenge them to any backyard game you could think of, only to beat them and then gloat. Michael, Doug, and Barry Sr. can attest to this. He is now survived by his beloved son-in-law and friend Barry, who he officially passed the asado duties off to some years ago. He is survived by his three children Joana, Jiuseppe, and Francis. Take a moment to notice how the names are spelled. We never let him live that down. He was fiercely proud of us and always supportive. He always gave good advice, even when we didn’t want to hear. Joana will be forever grateful that he forced her to major in a science. Francisco was a good husband, a great father, and probably a phenomenal stripper, but where he really shined was as Nonno. He was simply born to be a grandpa. Julia, Emma, Gina, Daniel, Vicky and Ryan were his whole life. He lived to love them. Best friends forever, as he would say. Francesco, Francisco, Frank, Papi, Papa, Grandpa, Nonno, Gino, Tio and Gordo will be missed by so many, too many to mention here. Our sweet Papi, our hero. We are proudest of all to have called you our father. You came to this country with nothing and gave us everything. For that we will be eternally grateful. We find comfort in knowing he is finally with his Geraldina, exactly where he wanted to be. Unfortunately, we will never truly know who he rooted for in the World Cup, Argentina or Italy. He took that one to the grave. Here’s to hoping he is already building his parrilla in heaven, the Lord knows he had to build one in every house he lived in.