5 Minutes of Hope

Nicholas G. Fornarotto was most truly an amazing family man.

Just shy of reaching his 95th birthday, Nick Fornarotto achieved and accomplished numerous successes. But make no mistake:

He did what he did

because he was who he was.

Of his many titles— I would like to give him the following handle: Nick the Dad.

Douggers.

That is what Nick called me.

That was the nickname he picked out for me. I’m not sure why. But I liked it. And I liked when he used that moniker. He had a certain gleam in his eye when he called me that. I guess you could say: his fatherliness towards me had a profound affect on my life— more than he ever knew.

You see, when you are two years old, and your father leaves home one morning to never return, you grow up without a dad. You, your younger brother, your older brother, and three older sisters are left fatherless.

What a horrible man. Right? Who would leave a family of six children and a beautiful wife of less than seven years to never set foot through the front door again? Terrible, right?

Well, don’t be too quick to judge this man.

The Douglas C-47 he was traveling on that bleak November day was struggling. She was low on jet fuel and the weather was hampering this stressed and straining aircraft. Just moments from the Gustavus airport in Alaska, my father and three other crew members were attempting to safely land her in the midst of heavy snow and poor visibility. The initial plan was to return to Anchorage from Tacoma, Washington. But alas— the weather was neither conducive or cooperating and the C-47 crashed into a tall tree on November 23rd in 1957, many miles from home.

This terrible incident on that fateful day claimed the lives of all four crew members instantly rendering 15 children fatherless.

You never know when your last day on this planet will be.

I’m not sure if our friend Nick knew.

When my sister-in-law Karen, my wife and I visited Nick a few days ago, he didn’t seem to recognize us. But in many ways, he was still the Nick we knew and loved.

Karen bought and brought Nick his favorite milkshake and when she handed it to him, he began to slurp it down.

As we chatted it became apparent that his memory had faded dramatically.

We broached several topics before landing upon one that struck his fancy. When we mentioned the firehouse and his fellow firefighters, he quickly became more alert and responsive. From that point on in the conversation, no matter what the question was his answer was always. “Yes, they were a good group of guys.” His needle got stuck on that memory, and so we went with it.

With his permission, we read Psalm 23 and prayed a simple prayer of faith. When we left that day, we didn’t know if we would ever return.

Well, husband Nick and father Nick and grandfather Nick and great-grandfather Nick… Nick the friend and Nick the fireman is gone from this earth, but he will never be gone from our hearts.

Dear one, life is too short.

Let’s be slow to judge and quick to love.

People matter.

People are hurting.

Hurting people matter.

I came across this old hymn of the church recently written back in 1901:

Young and old, churched or unchurched— in a world overrun with chaos, confusion and criticism… what’s required of us is to place our trust and our faith in Jesus Christ the Son of the living God.

Oh YES— He cares!