Friday, April 1, 2022
There was a day when it was a great honor to be asked to be a child’s God parent. I’m not so sure if it holds the same type of reverence. Frank Mangino was my Godfather and throughout my childhood I was always very proud of that fact. Being good Catholics, we all had Godparents, but I don’t recall exactly who they were for my siblings or cousins. I think the Manginos took it very seriously. They let me know, they let everyone know. Every Christmas, they would bring only me a gift. Because I was their Godson! I’ll never forget the Evil Kenevil PJs they gave me when I was 7. I wore them out. They showed up to every one of my birthday parties and always made it known that I was their God son. Of course, Uncle Frank was the Yin to Aunt Lori’s yang. Aunt Lori’s voice would burst the doors of the hinges and Uncle Frank’s steady tone would put the doors right back where they belonged, grease the hinges and have them working better than they were before. I can still hear Uncle Frank’s voice at the West Deptford Little League, a clear, distinct alto, never loud, but always audible whether he was encouraging Anthony on the pitcher’s mound or telling Andrew to stop pouring sand down the back of my shirt. You could hear the love there. Thank you, Uncle Frank, for your example of hard work, for your model of what a family man should be, and for taking the title of Godfather to heart.
Andrew, We Love You!
All our love and prayers to all the Manginos.
Take heart in the magnificent reunion that is happening above us.
Love, Tim, Cynthia, Shea & Chase Dixon
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