Passionate, easygoing; visionary, practical; creative, a realist; calculating, spontaneous. Dad was all these things, but perhaps one of his greatest attributes was that he was a dreamer. Dad had a way for always seeing things for what they could be.

I can never forget first seeing the old estate house in Santa Cruz: Rundown, dilapidated and overrun with every insect known to man. To me, the house looked as though it was being swallowed back up by the land it was built on. However, dad saw something completely different. Many mornings he would circle the estate viewing the house from as many angles as possible while drawing on his sketchpad. Dad saw the house for what it could be. He dreamed of having ionic columns placed alongside each wall. He dreamed of a fountain placed in front of the house overflowing into a coy pond. And he dreamed of a pool over looking the Santa Cruz village. He dreamed. I recently walked around the estate house for the first time in months and for the first time I was amazed at what I saw. I saw Ionic columns placed on every wall holding up the large estate house. I saw a beautiful fountain placed in front of the house with coy swimming in the pond below. And I saw a tranquil swimming pool surrounded by lush foliage. But when the wind would sweep in at just the right speed and it would brush the leaves at just the right angle, the foliage would part to open up a spectacular view to the village below. It was perhaps at that point, I realized that dad didn’t just dream, but he made those dreams into a reality. Dad rested little until the vision he had in his head was realized: be it a garden, a pool, a fountain or a house. I admired him for that.

One of my fondest memories of dad was in Italy. I need not mention how dad loved Italy. The country of architecture, opera, wine and “La Vita Bella”: The Good Life. Therefore, to see dad in Italy was a real treat. He knew the history of every monument, the date of every major event and the location of every garden. The extent of his passion became apparent when he was correcting and adding on to what the tour guide was saying in Pompeii. In fact, later that afternoon, we branched off so that he could give me a proper tour of the ancient city. However, dad loved Lake Como the most. Some afternoons I would find him relaxing going over sketches for his future villa located in mountains over looking the lake. He loved sharing his dreams with me. He had a gift for communicating his ideas. I loved the way his eyes would light up with enthusiasm explaining his plans to me as he paired over his glasses. I realized then that dad was happiest when following his passions and dreaming large. Dad probably knew he would never have a villa built on one of the mountains of Lake Como, but that never stopped him from dreaming. He probably was thinking the same thing as he circled the estate in Santa Cruz but he didn’t stop dreaming. My point is simple: dreams are the foundation for the reality we will ultimately realize through God’s help. We must be dreamers as well as people that make those dreams a reality. That was the type of man my father was and I will never forget him for that.

So, Let us never stop dreaming. Let us never stop realizing those dreams. Dad taught me what it is to have an insatiable passion. He taught me how to dream large and to go after that dream with all I have inside of me. And I will always love you dad, for that.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 22nd, 2009 at 5:44 pm and is filed under Travels. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.