James Gazzale

James Frederick Gazzale, in the way he would have described death, "croaked" on May 11, 2023 in Thousand Oaks, California. He will be remembered as a devoted and loving husband, father, and grandfather; for his brave service to his country; and for his incorrigible sense of humor.

Born in New York City on November 21, 1936, James grew up in Staten Island, New York. His parents were of Italian ancestry. His father, James senior, was an immigrant from Ruta, Italy, and a waiter. His mother, Olga, was a secretary and homemaker.

As a boy, James enjoyed playing stick ball with his friends on what was then a bucolic island. He used to recall his commandeering grandmother, Nona, using his bat to stake her tomato plants. One day, on his way to play a game with his friends, he went to take the bat out of the garden and was met with a miffed Nona cursing as she hurled an ax at him! This traumatic event, like something out of a mafia drama, did not dissuade James from pursuing athletics. He excelled at baseball and basketball in college, and even tried out for the Brooklyn Dodgers, his favorite team. He also played golf, enjoyed running, coached his son's little league and soccer teams, and refereed basketball.

Academically, James enjoyed history and writing. He enrolled in Notre Dame College, but homesickness and a longing for his mother's ravioli and cheesecake pulled him back to Staten Island, where he graduated from Wagner College in 1958. Later in 1977, he also earned a Masters degree in special education from Pepperdine University and volunteered to help children with special needs. While at Wagner, James joined Platoon Leaders Class and became a full fledged Marine Corps Sergeant upon graduation. Semper Fi!

You could say good fortune led him to his first tour of duty at Laguna Beach, California, where he met his beautiful wife, Susan, on a blind date. They were happily married in 1959 and remained so for 63 years. James was a loyal and loving husband who worked hard to support his family. The two made a solid team as Mom and Dad. Their lives revolved around raising their three sons, Jim, Bob and John, as well as their dogs Leibchen, Mandy, Galaxy, Bonnie, Maggie, Duffy and Mitzi…and other pets…like Chirper, a parakeet, whom James liked to let out of his cage and sit on his shoulder when he did the dishes. Together James and Susan navigated the anxiety-ridden obligation of being frequently uprooted and moved from one tour of duty to another. Overall, their long marriage included 21 moves, but together they made the best of the upheaval and found a shared interest in creating comfortable homes out of houses.

Perhaps the biggest challenge to their union was the separation brought by the Vietnam War, where James served on two tours of duty from 1965-66 and 1969-70. These were difficult times. There was no texting. Fortunately, James was more expressive writing down his feelings than speaking them. He sent many deeply felt and beautifully written love letters to Susan and his sons during these years.

While stationed in Danang, James served as an electronic warfare officer. He flew an F3D-2Q jet and was responsible for surveilling and jamming radar threats. For his meritorious service, he received a Bronze Star Medal with Combat "V" and an Air Medal Numeral 19, as well as other honorable distinctions. He was a proud Marine who embodied the Corps's values of honor, courage and commitment. After 20 years of service, James retired from the Marine Corps a Lt. Colonel.

Afterwards, James lived and worked in Northern Virginia as a defense contractor, before retiring completely in the late 1990s. At that time he and Susan built a dreamlike home in the rolling hills of Nellysford, Virginia. There James enjoyed golfing, crossword puzzles, and walking his dog. But a desire to be closer to their grandchildren led him and Susan to move to Southern California, where he lived until his death.

Besides the list of accomplishments one leaves behind when they die, what we remember most about a person is their character. James was an incongruous pairing of Marine Corps toughness with gentle humility, volcanic passion with quiet grace; bawdiness with politeness; prurience with modesty.

He had a devilish sense of humor and liked to play practical jokes. The tv show Bloopers and Practical Jokes would make him laugh so hard he would almost choke. Early in his courtship of Susan, James and Susan's brother, Bob, went on a camping trip to Yellowstone. While Susan was bathing in a rigged shower they had set up in the woods, James and Bob yelled, "Horses are coming!" and sent her running to find clothes and cover. On another occasion, he bought a spray that smelled like farts for his grandson, Nick. He took Nick into the men's room at the Cinedome in Los Angeles and sprayed the room with it. Then he and Nick stood outside to enjoy the reactions of the men as they hurried out of the fog.

Actually, a lot of his humor revolved around farts. He became so known for his fart jokes, that in later years, most of his gifts and cards were about farts. He had a gag where he'd hold out a pinky to his sons and say "Pull my finger." When one of the children did, he would let rip a very loud fart. Cut to years later on a family vacation to Rome while visiting the Sistine Chapel; a sacred place where it is prohibited to speak above a whisper. This is an impossible ask for a crowd of selfie snapping tourists. When the suppressed din grew beyond the bounds of reverence, the museum attendants would shush it back down. During one of the periods of shushing, James looked up at Michelangelo's depiction of God extending a finger to Adam and said, clearly and with a twinkle in his eye, "Pull my finger!"

On other hand, James was an understated, elegant, and polite gentleman; and this pairing of incongruities defined his charisma. Though he presented himself as a simple man with austere needs, he had a secret affinity for luxury. He'd say things like, "All I need is a cabin in the woods." But what he really wanted was a castle on a large parcel of land with a private golf course. Though he drove an aging Buick or a Volkswagen, he dreamed of sitting behind the wheel of a Mercedes R107. He enjoyed coffee in a china tea cup with a splash of anisette and a biscotti, but he was equally content with a beer, mortadella and salted pretzels. He may have worn Brooks Brothers suits, silk ties and polished shoes during the week, but on the weekend it was jean cuts offs, old running shoes, and a sweat stained shirt with a green monster that said, "I'm so happy I could shit!" In such a garb, James would mow his lawn, which was always green and perfectly edged. The shrubs were trimmed within an inch of their lives.

As a father James was a good role model. He taught his sons to have a strong handshake; to be kind, honest, and respectful of others; to wear a suit, not stiffly, but confidently, like you would any other clothes; to work hard; to stand up for yourself; to drink scotch.

Then there was his New York accent, that he seemed to have lost as soon as he left Staten Island. It would resonate usually when he lost his cool. One year Susan brought home a gigantic Christmas tree to decorate. It was James's job to fit it in the stand. Covered in sap and wrestling with the tree he shouted in New Yorker, "Christ, yaur Mudda baught a fuckin' redwood!" Another time, his son took a dive in a motel swimming pool where there happened to be a floating poop someone had left behind. Despite the frantic warnings from those on the deck, his son surfaced in an unfortunate place, and the poop practically bounced off his head. James ran over to the manager to let him know that his pool had become a toilet. "Sir, someone defecated in your pool." To which the man replied, "What?" Then James repeated, "Someone defecated in your pool." "Excuse me?" "SOMEONE SHIT IN YOUR POOL!"

Another contradiction to James's macho attitude and prejudices, was his empathy and understanding of others. When he learned his son was gay, he embraced it and said he didn't care. This was not the reaction you'd expect from a Marine Corp officer nursed by the brusqueness of New York City - and a Catholic.

Raised Roman Catholic, James served as an alter boy, when masses were delivered in Latin. He followed the sacraments of the church throughout his life. But somewhere along the way he no longer wanted to attend church and follow it's rigid teachings. This withdrawal, though, did not impact the strength of his faith. Praying the rosary shepherded him through challenging times, and hopefully guided him through his final challenge.

Thank you, dear James, for the contributions you made in life. Thank you for your service to the country, your charisma, and most of all your love and devotion to your family. You were truly one of a kind.

James is survived by wife Susan, his three sons, Jim, Bob and John, grandchildren, Nick and Ella, his sister, Nancy, and his dog, Mitzi.