Thoughts on Saint Joseph’s Day

As a child, I always loved Saint Joseph's Day. Coming so soon after Saint Patrick's, the Italian families in my town tried to make a big deal about it. The best part was the zeppola:

My mother used to travel back to Brooklyn to get the best ones from DaLuca's on North 6th and Havemeyer Street in Williamsburg. Later, we would also get great ones from Francesca's Bakery in Hicksville.

As I have become a father, this day has meant more to me. I can imagine Saint Joseph with the baby Jesus, watching with pride as Jesus grew up. But also with a little sadness, for paradoxically, I find the happiness I feel watching my two boys grow and learn is also tinged by some melancholy.

I buried my father on Saint Joseph's Day. Saint Joseph is the patron of fathers and of workers, and my father excelled at both. So I find that both fitting and comforting.