Me and Tony at the 4th of July picnic at my grandmother’s house in Silver Spring, Md, ca. 1954-5. I’m the one with the gun in lieu of a camera.
Tony and I go way back. Our mothers were first cousins and best friends. So, when my mother birthed me in late December, 1947, and Tony’s mother, Cel Vitto, brought Tony into the world seven months later, it was quite natural for us to spend time together. When Tony’s brother, Nicky, was born a year and a half later, the three of us made a team of sorts, often with the express purpose of harassing my two younger sisters.
Tony and I went in separate directions in high school and college, sometimes seeing each other during holidays for touch football games or over at Aunt Mary’s for Italian cookies, pastries, and liquor for the adults. Despite the distances between us and the different life experiences, there remained an indelible bond between us, one forged through family, memory, and instant familiarity and ease.
Tony with Willie Mays on Willie Mays Bobblehead Day, in San Francisco.
Tony was a student of science and a brief scan of his obituary will show you the heights to which he took both his research work and his medical practice. I always thought he was the smartest person in the family although I have since learned that smartness comes in many different forms. Even so, Tony was a very bright guy, but as down to earth as a person could possible be. He was generous and funny with an infectious laugh that would dominate a room. Inquisitive, curious, and with an incredible memory for detail.
Tony clearly loved life and he enjoyed it to the fullest. Music, from opera to rock n’ roll; sports of all kinds; food was another passion and he was an excellent cook; and, of course, wine.
He had expensive taste. I remember being at his office in Morgan Hill when he asked if I could help him load some boxes into his Mercedes. There were maybe a couple of dozen boxes, all the same, stamped with Italian words, some of which I understood. “What is this stuff?,” I asked. “That’s my Pope water,” he replied. “I drink the same water as the Pope and have it delivered from Rome. I do the same with my Balsamic.” It was a head-shaking moment for me.
Tony showing off his taste in exotic food, Morgan Hill, CA.
It seemed that as we aged we had more contact with one another. Visits with him in California and Massachusetts, meetups in Maryland for weddings, and, while not frequent, there were regular phone calls over the years. Leslie and I spoke of visiting Tony in New Jersey when he got settled, along with other family and friends on the Peninsula.
I hadn’t spoken with Nicky in a few years so when my phone said I was getting a call from him I suspected it to be about Tony. He had been having health problems lately and struggling with a number of long drawn-out personal issues, but I knew he was looking to the future with a positive outlook and anticipation of what the future would bring. I’ll miss you, cousin.
https://www.legacy.com/us/obituaries/nytimes/name/anthony-vitto-obituary?id=19853076