Monday, August 15, 2016
Anthony, Roseann, Holly, and Nicole,
Uncle Phil was the second-most important man in my life when I was growing up--my own dad having pride of place. Mark and I still laugh when we think of some the expressions he had. We spend as much time as we could having lunch at the bar at the Jolly Fisherman--fried clams and conversation, along with giggles and soda (we were probably too young for alcohol then).
"Ah-Beets" at Pepe's in New Haven (I can still hear Uncle Phil complaining, "I don't know why people call it 'pizza pie.' Don't the know they're saying 'pie pie'?" (pointing out that pizza is Italian for pie)!
He was the Yo-yo champeen in Bridgeport, or so he told us, until Aunt Phyllis set us straight. And the many stories of going to furniture and knick knack stores on Sunday afternoon, where Uncle Phil would invariably touch something--and drop it--while all eyes of the staff looked to us, two 8-year old almost fall-guys, until one of the less butter-fingered parents came to our rescue.
Phil and Phil, Mints and Josie, all gone now, but we are left with sweet memories of Sunday dinners, Savin Rock rides, Angelo's Pear Tree shop, drive-in movies, and so much more.
We were so blessed to have your parents with us for so many years. We are so sorry for your loss. Keep those stories alive--the humor is healing and the love is everlasting.
love,
Mark and Jan Biazzo Birney
