Father Anthony J. Chiaramonte - "Our Tony"

 I mean no disrespect when I call you Tony, but then again, I know you know that.  You shared yourself with us in such a personal way and we knew each other on a heart to heart level.  Your presence in our lives and at our table was an immense blessing; one for which we are forever grateful. 

I need to talk about you. I need to share this little story.  You, yourself, were the best story teller of all; anyone who ever heard one of your homilies can attest to that!  Before the advent of life-streaming the Mass at Christ Our Light, I sat in church, pen and paper in hand, to capture your salient points and your words of wisdom.  I was always excited when you were the one to speak!  I anticipated your down-to-earth stories and the generous way you shared your true self with the congregation.  When we first asked you to join us for dinner at our home and you said, yes" I felt honored and privileged. And then you became a 'regular' guest at our house; you said "yes" to our invitations again and again. You celebrated our "BIG" birthdays with us and we celebrated a few of yours; you even treated us to dinner at Grappa 72 for our 50th Wedding Anniversary.   I'm notorious at extending very last minute invitations, but you never took offense and if you were free you would say "yes". You got to meet many family members and friends and you always fit in perfectly.  You became family to us, you let us be our real selves - messiness and all -  and we fell in love.     I often thought "How blessed can we be" to have a friend like Tony?  In the last year or so, when we'd say, "How are you doing, Fr. Tony?" you'd answer, something along these lines, "Barely hanging in there" or " I'm just about making it".   I began to hold my breath as I watched you step down from the altar as I noticed a little unsteadiness. I even expressed my concern that he was doing too much.  After all, he was in his 80's, and was our Eucharistic Minister for almost all our Masses and Funerals.  Everyone called on Fr. Tony for just about everything and it seemed he always said, "yes".  He answered my concern for him, and his answer gave me comfort.  Basically he said he wanted to say, Yes" and that he liked what he was doing.  

The words below were written the day I got the terrible news that our friend Fr. Tony never made it to the 10am Mass because he had died as a result of a fall the night before.

At about 3:50 pm yesterday afternoon, Saturday October 15th, 2022, Father Tony came out of the Reconciliation Room and walked over to Bob and me as we sat at our little desk behind the last pew in church. Bob was setting up a laptop to livestream the 4 pm Mass and I had the other laptop ready to go with the PowerPoint containing the prayers and hymns for the 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time.

Out of the blue, Bob turns to Fr. Tony and says, “ I noticed your halo as you were walking out of the back room. “ I look at Bob in a baffled sort of way as I’m thinking “what the heck is he talking about ?” I think Father Tony might have been a bit baffled too but he started to joke around in his usual congenial way. And then I pick up on the train of the conversation and say something like “well we all know what an angelic guy you are”. Then Fr. Tony reminisces about an incident that happened many years ago when he was a Chaplain in Oneonta. He said that one of the coeds at the school told him she noticed a special aura around him as she saw him up at the altar. I sensed he was a bit embarrassed and humbled by her statement.

I really didn’t know what caused Bob to share this halo story until after Mass. I asked him what he was talking about when he said he saw this halo around Fr. Tony’s head ( Bob isn’t the type of guy who typically talks about things like a halo or auras) and he explains to me that when he saw Fr. Tony walking towards him a ray of sunshine came through the window and surrounded his head. Interesting that this happened within hours of his death. As far as I’m concerned and I’m guessing as far as most of the parishioners of Christ Our Light are concerned Father Tony did have an aura about him.

One time during a reconciliation service I sat watching Father Tony as one by one parishioners came forward to express their sinfulness and ask for forgiveness. He laid hands on them, he embraced them, he looked lovingly and gently at them and I had the feeling that Christ was alive and radiating through this holy, beautiful man as I had never, ever experienced Christ before in my life. 

 On my way out of church the day Fr. Tony died I was in a bit of a rush, so when I saw a woman holding onto her walker standing in front of Tony in what appeared to be a rather lengthy conversation, I decided not to wait.  As I whizzed by in my haste, he touched my shoulder in greeting and I said, "Hi!" What I would give to have had that final hug, those final words. Nothing describes Fr. Tony better to me than these words from 1 Corinthians:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

Anne and Me and Our Unique Experience

I’m not sure why Anne and I decided to "go out on the town" together. I liked Anne but she wasn’t in my original Specialty group at St. Vincent’s Hospital School of Nursing and I don’t remember hanging around with her on a regular basis.  It was March of 1965 and we were in our senior year. Perhaps we decided to connect up socially because so many of original groups of friends had already met their "Mister Rights" and we were both still looking.   I do remember that we were dressed up rather fancy so I believe it was some sort of upscale place in midtown Manhattan.

I also remember being impressed when two tall, handsome, well dressed young men approached us and engaged us in conversation. We visited with them for quite some time and as the social activity was winding down, they mentioned they lived nearby and they cordially invited us back to their apartment for coffee. They seemed educated and sophisticated, and since there were two of us, we felt a certain safety, and we assumed it was an honest invitation to continue our pleasant conversations.  After all, they seemed so sincerely interested in us, and we  believed that possibly they might turn out to be  our "Mr. Rights".

I guess we were young (both of us recently turned 20) and a bit naive and trusting, because we agreed to their invitation and went with them back to their apartment.  If my memory serves me correctly, the guys skillfully maneuvered us towards two separate areas in the apartment and "put the moves on us" rather aggressively. We might have been naive, but we weren't stupid and we immediately realized that their intentions were less than honorable. Cordial   conversation was not what they had in mind!

I yelled out, "Anne" at about the same time that she yelled out, "Mary Beth". We both rose from our seats and met in the middle of the room and announced this wasn't what we had in our minds and we were leaving.  They didn't apologize or ask to see us again to prove they were interested in getting to know us as the wonderful women we were.   They were interested in only one thing and they could care less about us as human beings.   I'm not sure why but they went outside with us as we hailed a cab and one of the guys handed me money to pay for the cab.  I remember feeling so angry about the entire situation, that before the cab pulled away, I opened the window, ripped the bill into smithereens and threw it out of the cab at them.  I believe it was a $20 dollar bill (which was a lot of money back in 1965).  I think Anne might have felt I acted a bit impulsively, throwing away the cab fare, but she understood my indignation.  I'm including a copy of the letter Anne wrote to me the next day.

                          March 27, 1965

Dear Mary Beth,

        I just wanted to tell you that I really had a terrific time with you last night. You are one of the few people whom I know and go out with who can be so very truly herself and still have a good time. You made me laugh enough to last a year!

     Please forget about the regrettable part of the evening. I'm sure we both learned a few things. I'm still in a state of shock at myself and I hope you realize as I do that it was a unique experience. I'm looking forward to going out with you again (to the same place, I hope - we've got to prove ourselves, remember). Hope you got up on time. Be good and avoid throwing away green paper unnecessarily.  I admire your spunk -you're just simply, incredibly great!! See you when I get back.

                                  Sincerely,

                                                                                                  Anne (over)

I'm even going to remember you in my Mass and Communion tomorrow - for our future strength in strange apartments.  A.

Sadly, Anne died suddenly on December 6, 2022, one day after her 78th birthday.  Rest in Peace, my friend.  Remember me as you come into your glory.