Francis X. Stasko

Chisel in hand stood a sculptor boy With his marble block before him and his face lit up with a smile of joy As an angel dream passed o'er him. He carved the dream on that shapeless stone, With many a sharp incision, With Heaven's own light the sculptor shone. He had caught that angel vision. Sculptors of life are we, as we stand with our souls uncarved before us, Waiting the hour when at God's command, Our life dream passes o'er us. If we carve it then on the yielding stone With many a...

Mr Stasco was always outside working in his yard when I was a little girl. His home was always well cared for. I have fond memories of Mr and Mrs Stasco. He was a significant part of the Highland ST neighborhood. May he rest peacefully.