Patrick Moriarty posted in St Agnes "House Kids" Sparkill NY (Facebook)
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Email from: Joseph Stanaitis Sent: Fri 1/25/2013 Subject: Eternal Rest Grant Unto Him, O Lord Luigi Crispino Sr. of Haverstraw, N.Y. passed away on Thursday, January 24, 2013 at the age of 78. He was born Nov. 10, 1934 in Rotundi, Italy to Antoinetta and Giuessppe Crispino. On October 3, 1959 he was married to the love of his life Ann Marie Gambale at St Peters Church in Haverstraw. He served in the United States Army. He was a member of Joyce Kilmer 4th Degree, Knights of Columbus #581. He was also a member of the Italian American Social Club, West Haverstraw, NY. He was a member of the Carpenters Union, New City, NY. Luigi was an avid Bowler; he liked to play cards and golf. He was predeceased by his son Luigi Crispino, Jr. He is survived by his loving wife of 52 years, Ann Marie, devoted children; LuAnn Powell, Lisa Crispino and her fiancé Richard Juritsch, his four grandchildren, Timothy and his wife Haley, Anthony, Nakia and Jazmine and two great grandchildren Landon and Silas and his special grand dog, Ali. Also, brothers and sister, his aunt, brother in laws, sister in laws, nieces, nephews, cousins and many friends. In lieu of flowers Memorial Donations in loving memory of Luigi Crispino, Sr. may be made to the American Cancer Society. Family will receive friends Saturday and Sunday from 2-4 and 7-9 PM at the George M. Holt Funeral Home, Inc. A Mass of Christian Burial will be celebrated Monday, January 28, 2013 at 10:00AM at St. Peters Church, Haverstraw, NY. Interment will follow at St. Peters Cemetery, Haverstraw, NY. George M. Holt Funeral Home, Inc., 50 New Main St. Haverstraw, NY 10927 (845) 429-2159 This is the Luigi Crispino I remembered. The memory is very old but is how I remembered him. I was not part of his group but his passion for this sport at that time always stuck with me. Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May the soul of this faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen. Soccer was a big game and enjoyed even by me the way we played it consisted a lot of running, head butting and body slams. These were things I liked because even though I could not run that ball, I was able to guard the kickers . We had one guy, an Italian immigrant named Luigi Now, he was a soccer player, coming from a country where the sport may have had more adherents sometimes than sex. He was good. Once he took command of the ball, no one could stop him. He could maneuver that orb up and down the field as if he were the only one playing and from a point of pure skill. He was the only one out there. He loved that game. We played rugby, American rugby and regular American football and he excelled at each but on the soccer field he was an Italian version of Pele from Brazil who you might remember came along many years later and prior to his retirement was considered the world’s greatest soccer player. There was one especially competitive game where the best players from all the kids got on the field. To watch people play who love a game and play just for the rush is an awe-inspiring sight. Somebody, I forgot who threw a low body block at luigi and he went down and didn’t move for a moment. The prefects started to run out on the field and all of a sudden, there was a bellow as from a tortured bull and luigi tried to stand up and he fell right down. They brought him to Nyack hospital for x-rays and found that his ankle was busted. They gave him painkillers, set the busted ankle and put it in a heavy plaster cast and sent him back to the house with orders to rest. By the time he arrived back, it was after dinner and a bunch of guys were starting to put together a team to start another soccer match. As soon as luigi got out of the car, he started to run across the field to join in, cast and all. The prefects were able to restrain him and persuade him to get some rest. But, the very next day, when the teams started up after school emptied out, luigi was at there running like a wounded antelope up and down that field and woe betide anyone who came within reach of his kicking foot solidly encased in plaster of Paris for the remainder of the soccer season. |
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