We are here today to honor a life well lived. No one here today can say that they knew my father, Nicholas Calia, all his life. Sure, we know the stories. He is the boy who was born on Thanksgiving Day in 1921. He was so smart that he graduated from High School at age 15. He grew up in Brooklyn, New York and was molded by disciplinarian, immigrant parents. He joined the Army at 19 and served for the duration of WWII in the Army Air Corp as an airplane mechanic. But, what we truly know of him growing up is merely family legend.

But while we didn't know him all his life, many here can say that he knew you all of your life. My wife tells me that everyone grows up in a different family. We experience each other differently because we know each other at different times and under different circumstances.

Dad was 35 when I was born. By the time I knew him he was already middle aged. For me, he was the man who drove me to high school so that we could spend 20 minutes together each morning. He taught me how to fish. He was my bowling partner every Sunday afternoon for six years. He was the man who insisted that I not take a job in college so that I could focus 100% on my studies. He was the one who lent me the money I needed to travel from Boston to Atlanta for my first job. He was the best man at my wedding. He taught me how to be a Dad and he taught me to be a friend.

When I was young, my Dad was like a celebrity. When he went to the bank, everyone knew his name and he knew theirs. When he walked into the Elks lounge, or the bowling alley, or the golf club, people would call out "Hey, Nick!". It seemed liked everyone knew him and he knew them. As I got older, I came to understand that relationships were very important to him. His family, his business associates, or the guy who pumped gas into his car. He seemed to always know everything about them.

He was loyal and honest. He worked hard and played hard and encouraged everyone around him to do the same.

Nicholas Calia was a man with boundless energy who never did anything half way. When he owned a boat, we were on it every weekend. When he bought his first condo in Florida, he would drive the trip from New York to Florida for 27 hours straight without sleep to get there. When he took up golf, he played 4 or 5 times a week.

When he first took up golf, he would get to the golf course at 4am on Saturday morning to get a good tee time. When asked why he would get up so early just to play golf, he replied that if he can get up early to go to work, he surely can get up early to have fun.

Dad was not one to read a book or meditate. He was on the move most of the time. He had his bowling night, his card night, association meetings. On Friday and Saturday nights, my parents would be going out or getting together with friends. My sister-in-law refers to him as "the original party animal". He loved being around people.

On the night of my junior prom, most of my friends had parents who waited up anxiously for them to come home after a long night. I stayed out late too and didn't get home until 4:30am. Of course, I didn't get in trouble because my parents weren't home yet.

Dad was a man who struggled, worked hard, found a way to provide for his family, was a good husband, a good father, a good grandfather, livened up a room with laughter and a big smile. May God bless his soul. It was a life well lived.