Mel and Me ... A Love Story

I sent this note to you because you will understand the passion with which I wrote it and the heartbreak. It's about family and friends. 

And, the most important friend ... "My Best Friend"

Who is your best friend? A person with whom you grew up? You went to grade three with? Your "best" man? Your golf partner?

For me, my best friend was my brother-in-law, Emilio Matteo Campanile. His nickname, "Mel", was given to him by a teenage girl who lived across the street from him and couldn't pronounce Emilio.

Mel grew up in Anglo-Saxon Toronto in the 1930s on Chestnut Street, behind the Sick Children's Hospital. At that time, before the hospital was built, the area looked like that scene from New York City’s “Little Italy” in The Godfather. A few of the original 12-foot-wide homes on Elm Street are still there.

His father was a barber who raised a family of ten children in their tiny house with 15-cent and 25-cent haircuts and shaves.

Emilio was child number ten.

How did this Italian boy ever meet up with my west Toronto middle-class sister, Loretto?

Loretto was 13 years older than me, so when I was a 5-year-old, she was like an adult. And her name was always mispronounced as Loretta. Her full name was Mary Loretto. 

I had three sisters — all different. But Loretto’s radiant smile and upbeat personality reminded me of the popular movie actress of the time, Doris Day. However, she didn’t need close-ups or a filtered, movie camera lens to capture her soft demeanour.

Like Mel, I was child number ten in a family of ten. I had two brothers who were actually old enough to be my father. 

My parents ordered me to "respect my elders" and address adults as "Mister" or "Mrs" ... never, ever by their first names. You can see how this could be a little confusing to a kid. I had "elderly" siblings and cousins -- what was I supposed to call them?

 Loretto had a terrible time dating Mel. I even sensed it as a little kid. The problem was my Irish Catholic father, who was born in 1897 and went to the Front in World War I as an 18-year-old. 

Frank Travers was a "different" person ... he thought television's hit situation comedy program, "All in the Family," featuring "Archie Bunker," was a drama, not a comedy. He and my mother didn't like Italians and their unpronounceable names, like Emilio Matteo Campanile. 

Ya, especially him.

But more about that later.

When I was 5, my sister's boyfriend took me to the natural ice rink at Dufferin Park in West Toronto to learn how to skate. He was very patient with me. I couldn't convince my ankles to cooperate.

It would be another year, and his encouragement would magically convince my ankles to straighten and allow me to glide on my skates. 

Hey! "Mel" ... Look at me … I can skate!

That simple gesture, teaching me to skate ... proved to be a life-changing event. Now, as a 79-year-old, I'm still skating and playing more than 200 games a year. I haven't had any real health issues, and I'm convinced that the fountain of youth may actually be a fountain of frozen water on one of the rinks I play on in Florida and Toronto.

This isn't about hockey. 

However, Mel introduced me to Leaf Nation before there was one by taking me to Leaf games at the Gardens in the 1950s - we sat in the Greys along with the other real Leaf fans.

He treated me like a buddy, never as an obligation …(I gotta take my girlfriend's kid brother to the game). I was just a kid ... he made me feel like I was his pal. 

No need for “mister” with him or his huge Italian family, with whom I would become an honorary Italian — every time I met one of them, I was greeted with a bear hug or a pinched cheek, or both —"Eravamo una famiglia" — we were family.

Once they convinced my parents that they were serious, my sister and Mel got engaged, and he established himself as a successful executive at Imperial Oil. 

Then, everything changed. My father only turned to him, and not one of my older brothers, for advice on matters of any importance.

My father gave in to Mel's goodness, and I always sensed regret in him for the way he'd treated someone who eventually would become a very good friend. My mother remained silent throughout this time, but couldn't have been happier to hear the name Mel's children called her. She couldn't wait to tell her friends with such a happy smile ... "My grandchildren, Frank and Lorraine, they call me grandma/in Italian.

Yes, even through all the turmoil my father caused, Mel and Loretto named their first child after him, Frank.

When Loretto met my teenage girlfriend, Lorraine, for the first time, they became instant sisters. Lorraine had already had a historical connection to my sister's special Loretto name. She graduated from Toronto's Loretto College and years later would return as the school's vice-principal. 

Before our marriage in 1968, when Lorraine and I were both only 21 years old, my sister and her husband quietly and impactfully became our go-to couple. They didn't instruct us. They didn't order us. They were better than that -- they showed us by example -- their example. We were kids who wanted to have a marriage just like theirs. 

Oh ... the ring.

I'm the first to admit I didn't know the first thing about wedding rings or diamonds or how I needed to invest in one. Mel knew "a guy". We visited his shop, and he described the quality of the best sparkler he had in his collection. Every time I look at my wife's wedding ring, 58 years later, I think of that wonderful exchange when Mel guided my decision at a most important time.

My sister and her husband wrote the roadmap for us on how to behave as a married couple -- how to entertain friends and how to stress the importance of relatives and friends (in that order).

It became part of Mel's business practice to know how to address and entertain a large crowd. He mastered the microphone - not quite Johnny Carson, but you get the idea. And, he agreed to be our wedding reception's Master of Ceremonies.

 He wanted to make sure our special day was perfect, and I knew his input would be integral to making that happen. Lorraine chose Loretto to be one of her bridesmaids — yes ... perfect.

In June 2018, Lorraine and I had a party with 150 family and friends hosted by our son and daughter and their spouses. We were celebrating our 50th wedding anniversary.

I remember seeing the way Loretto and Mel looked at us during the party … like two professors who’d just watched their two favourite students graduate.

For years, there was a family joke about Mel. Do you remember the ads containing a photo of Charles Atlas? Mel had "Atlas" muscles but never lifted a weight. A great athlete, but he couldn't swim.

So, for years at our family cottage at Woodland Beach on southern Georgian Bay, he would happily conjure up his spot-on Jerry Lewis/The Nutty Professor impersonation as he splashed with the 3-year-olds on the beach's first sand bar and laughed along with everyone else as they laughed at him. 

Mel was responsible for packing and driving the family car to Woodland. It was always early on a Saturday morning. My mother would have moved all of the luggage, boxes of food, water toys, and cleaning materials out to the curb beside Mel's car. I was just a kid, and I knew all that stuff was never going to fit into the trunk. Somehow, he had a keen eye for this type of challenge ... and off we went!

His fear of water surprised me when he said "yes" to cruise with us on the legendary NCL cruise ship, SS Norway, as the four of us sailed through the Caribbean several times and capped off our cruising adventures with our very special trip to Alaska, then motoring through the Canadian Rockies.

Mel and Loretto were blessed with two thoughtful, caring children. The most accurate way to describe them is to tell you they both had "warrior spirit" -- an indomitable will that propels them forward, even in the face of adversity. So thoughtful, they were able to arrange for him to stay in his home instead of having to move to one when his health started to fail him. They also provided their dad with a cast of outstanding 24/7 caregivers who quickly became part of Mel's family. I know my sister would be so proud of her children and the way they put their dad's comfort ahead of their own, and for arranging their free time so they could make daily contact with him.

My sister and her husband were parents who led and loved by example. Their children had their own children, who have now started to have their own children. Can you imagine creating a more important legacy?

But, back to Mel.

He loved his name ... "Emilio Matteo Campanile," and when he pronounced it, when he felt the need, it sounded like the title of one of the songs Pavarotti would belt out. But when I spoke to him or called him by name, it was always "hey, paisan" or "guido" ... he let me get away with a lot of stuff.

He worked forever at Imperial Oil and was their most passionately loyal employee. He loved the company, and they loved him back.

Following his actual retirement after 35 years of service, he was contracted by ESSO to work on their behalf for 4 more years as a consultant as they grew the convenience store/gas station model we see on Canadian highways today. 

Following that, just when it seemed he was destined for a La-Z-Boy chair to watch his Blue Jays, Leafs, and Argos, he joined his son's successful advertising specialty company, and another completely new, successful career emerged. 

He eventually retired from his son's business and then, like several other pros who can't give it up, returned to the business not once, but 2 more times. His customers were smitten by his easy-going charm and superior service, so Mel had difficulty saying adios to his newfound career and all the new business friends he'd made. One customer insisted that Mel continue to handle his business ... so, he agreed to handle just that one customer for one more year ... Mel was 80. 

There was no mystery to Mel.

He was a very highly respected member of the Travers family. 

He was a considerate, thoughtful, loyal and family-first guy. He never smoked during a time when everyone seemed to, and didn't drink either, unless you needed company (and some advice).

He had a quick wit and was the first to laugh at a good joke ... he'd laugh harder if he was the teller. 

He avoided "bad" language at all costs unless he had to scream at one of those hated referees officiating a Leaf game on TV - his hatred for what he called the "zebras" was a family legend. I wish I'd had my camera with me to capture the expression on his face when I introduced him to my long-time friend and Mel's most hated official, NHL referee, Bruce Hood.

Mel's educational resume included something he was very proud of ... he was in the first graduating class of St Michael's College School (the hockey school) when they moved to their current St Clair & Bathurst location. 

Given any opportunity, he’d remind you that NHL Hall of Fame players Lindsay, Duff, Kelly, Horton, Mahovlich and Keon also attended the same school.

I loved to watch my sister and her husband dance at family functions and special events like their grandchildren's weddings. They were so in tune with each other, never a misstep.

Their easy, effortless dancing was a rhythmic example of the way they glided through life -- simpatico.

They danced like teenagers at their 60th wedding anniversary (above).  

60 years prior, their 1956 wedding reception had been held at the very exclusive Boulevard Club in Toronto -- our families were not "club" people, so Mel got everyone's attention when they received their invites. Could you imagine arranging a function at the Boulevard Club in today's dollars ... how about 1950s dollars?

Mel "knew a guy".

But in 2021, I think the light went out in Mel's heart when his beloved wife of 64 years, and my beautiful, oldest sister, passed away very suddenly. They were more than just in love ... they were love. What they had was very, very special. The proof of what they meant to each other is easily recognized in the photo above.

She'd been the matriarch of our very large Travers family - Mel's Italian side as well. She was put on earth to marry Mel; "Erano due ante gemelle" -- “their souls were twins”.

Loretto broke down a Travers family barrier of racism that allowed me and my brother to marry Italian women without the battle she had endured.

Mel was very strong-willed, and I know that he wanted his children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren to see that  …  and understand the importance of living one's life to the fullest. 

In his last few years, he showed us ... we must never give up, ever, even in the tough moments.

If you're like me, you may have witnessed elderly, disabled people being angry and difficult. They certainly have cause. Mel was the opposite. He treated his caregivers with kindness, politeness and respect, and because they were there for him, they responded by making him feel safe and comfortable. 

"Caregivers" was the wrong word to use ... Mel was watched over by a team of Guardian Angels.

The Campanile & Travers families will be forever grateful to these wonderful, caring women.

When he was young, Mel had been a very good baseball player and played in an organized league into his 50s. Recently, I've been with him for hockey, baseball and his beloved Argo games on TV. He never complained that he and I couldn't go to the games anymore. 

I think his final years were very tough on him, as his athletic body ignored him and began to shut down.

I hope this tribute to him is a comfort to all who knew and loved him. I think he just missed my sister too much.

My best friend and I had a very good life together. If you have a best friend, I hope you can say the same. That would never have happened if he hadn't always treated me as his friend and not his girlfriend's little brother. 

Before I forget ... things could be so exciting for him, he could sound like a kid ... remembering the silliest things ... like the extra cost of a beer when he took his family, by train, to California -- he was shocked when the beer cost more in one state than it did in the next ... or, when visiting Disneyland in Anaheim, he could describe in the finest detail every ride and experience and be overjoyed if you tested him to receit the words to "Small World". And, when visiting Vegas for the first time in the 1970s, he was amazed that the Casinos were air-conditioned, yet the doors were wide open to the streets. He noticed and found fun in things that meant nothing to the rest of us.

For me, in my twenties, with a new family and launching a career in advertising sales, promotion and marketing, he was my cheerleader. With every career move or promotion along the way, he gave me a standing ovation ... you can only imagine how much that encouragement meant to me. I never faced a hurdle because he was always there with a nice go'n.

Ah ... I forgot about Christmas.

Mel and my sister hosted Christmas Day dinner for my family and their family for decades. Mel was obsessed with his shopping list each year. Only the freshest prosciutto, the freshest vegetables and fruits, and he’d wait at the bakery for his dinner rolls to come out of the oven.

It was very important to him that everything was just right.

He only shopped at the city’s best suppliers and didn’t care about how far his shopping spree took him or the cost  … and he always came home with two of everything to make sure “there was enough”.

My sister's Christmas dinner was a thing of legend. As soon as everyone was seated, you turned to your dinner partner and took hold of one of those Christmas exploding crackers ... if you refused to wear the paper Christmas hat that was revealed after the explosion, you wouldn't get a cup of her fabulous home-made Italian chicken soup ... everyone wore a floppy paper hat. 

If you knew Mel, what I've written here will ring true. He loved and worked hard for his family and their success, adored his wife, cheered for Cahill’s team and any team that represented Toronto or Canada.

He had a very, very good life. I know. 

I had a ringside seat for most of it.

He was a gentleman, loved to travel, complained about the government, paid his taxes and lived by the Golden Rule.

He could tell you where to find the best pastrami sandwich or the best pot roast or the best Creme Brulee ... and the exact date he'd enjoyed each. His dining credo was ... "dinner isn't complete until dessert is served". 

Mel was an accomplished musician who was self-taught and enjoyed playing the piano and drums. He liked listening to a soft guitar or a Sinatra big band showstopper with Count Basie's brass section screaming for attention.

Mel put the utmost value on his friendships, and his friends were legion. Especially Terry and Ken, who were very special people in Mel's life ... he thought of them as kin. Both were unlikely "friends". Ken was Mel's former boss from ESSO, and Terry was Mel's former direct competitor in the ad specialty business. If the need arises for me one day, I could only hope to have two generous, dedicated wingmen like these two. 

I wrote this so I could say a proper goodbye to him, and I know my beautiful sister would have liked what I wrote. If you reached this far into my essay, I'm happy to know that you also got a chance to meet my best friend. 

I know Mel would have liked this story. I wish I'd said some of these things to him before he left, so he'd know how much I loved him. 

But Loretto would also want me to mention that if you ever met her husband, and my best friend, Emilio Matteo Campanile ... 

You would have had a friend for life.

Postscript: I have a thousand photos of him ... from parties and celebrations and weddings and graduations and birthdays and a lot of other nonsense - often at our Fieldgate Drive backyard pool. A destination I hope you visited.

But, my all-time favourite picture of Mel is below, in the shallow end of our Fieldgate Dr. pool with his floaty.

Hey, "Paisan" ...

In Italian ... "Che il Buon Dio ti tenga nel palmo della Sua mano finché non ci rivedremo"

"In Gaelic/Irish ... "Go gcoinni die i mobs a lame thu go caster le cheile sinn aris"

... May the good Lord keep you in the palm of his hand until we meet again.

If you wish, scroll down and leave a comment below.