From New Year’s Day to the Ides of March

Born on New Year’s Day, Rocky died on the Ides of March. Named “Hercules” at birth, my father legally became “Rocky” shortly after serving in World War II; it suited his outsize personality.

Every year on Rocky’s birthday, we hosted an open house. Those parties were fabulous; I still hear them in my daydreams.

My parents’ friends represented the best of the Greatest Generation: boisterous, determined, tough. They treasured every moment; from their Ellis Island arrival to the Depression to the most devastating war in history, they survived one of the most challenging centuries ever. They knew that every day is precious.

To honor Rocky, I married my first husband on New Year’s Day. Rocky didn’t get to walk me down the aisle; the Ides of March took him several years earlier. We hosted our own annual open house; we laughed, drank, nursed hangovers, and remembered the generation that showed us what tough really is.

Thanks, Daddy. This New Year’s Day, I’ll remember you, and those parties; I’ll make martinis in the pitcher you and Mom used. And I’ll raise my glass in a toast to you and your generation, who taught me what “tough” really means.