Dr. Anthony R Mascia, M.D.

Anthony Robert Mascia—Greatness

Greatness is defined and proclaimed in all sorts of ways these days. Someone who throws a lot of touchdown passes or who’s particularly adept at shooting a basketball into a hoop is described as great. Someone who writes music that contains essentially no music but mesmerizes his fans is, for some reason, called great.

 Let me tell you about greatness, because I’ve had the great good fortune to have had a ring-side-seat for close to sixty years:

Greatness is starting your life of healing and service to others (and getting blown up and nearly killed for your trouble) in the great battle to destroy perhaps the worst monster in human history.

 Greatness is giving devoted and committed love to the same woman for over seventy years, until her final breath, and to the family they created together, and to all of their extended family.

  Greatness is caring for and healing thousands of people, at any hour of the day or night, in any and all circumstances, whether compensated or not, not just when called upon to do so, but whenever the need existed.

Greatness is continuing to heal and to love and to serve, essentially everyone your life touches, until your own final breath.  A dear friend said to me recently that God must certainly have been proud to have had such a son here to help do His work for the past century.

  I’m probably not the only one who feels they’ve lost not just their father, but their son, and their best friend—all in one. It was a great honor to be one of Dad’s caregivers through his final years. Through those years, he was still able to see the miraculous in the commonplace and the everyday. And in his final weeks and months, facing what he knew to be his imminent death, he was calm and completely at peace. It was beautiful to see and to experience, just as it was a great and blessed gift for all of us to have had him by our sides throughout our l J.M.M., 11/29/16

  EULOGY FOR ANTHONY R. MASCIA, MD       DECEMBER 3, 2016 Speaking for all my brothers, I would like to thank all of you who are here to celebrate the life of dad, grandpa, great-grandpa, also known to many as Dr. Anthony Mascia.  Thank you to family members, friends, former patients, neighbors, co-workers, medical colleagues for all your support and love.  We want you to know how important a part you played in his very long and fruitful life.

I will now present some of my brothers’ and family members reflections on dad’s life.  Thankfully, they have an abundance of great things to say about him, so what I cannot mention here due to time constraints, we will plan to share with you in other ways.

Dr. Mike comments that as a doctor and as a Christian, dad personified the oath of Hippocrates.  He lived the aphorisms—“First, do no harm” and “Do good.”

For everyone he served, he did his best to “do the right thing—always”

Mike says his legacy is that each of us can carry on as healers for ourselves, for each other, for our communities, and for the world.  He believed that you don’t have to be a physician to be a healer.

Many of us remember that dad had a continual urge to fix things, whether it was a broker chair-leg, a broken doll, a discouraged spirit, or an unresolved medical problem.  It was one of the things he enjoyed most during his almost 101 years.  He never went anywhere without the duct tape. 

Joe and I observe that – as he was not fond of filing cabinets—he devised a unique system of placing important papers in all varieties of bags, nestling them alongside his newspaper clippings and recyclables. 

He had a mischievous and colorful side to his personality.  He was proud of the way he wielded his slingshot as a boy.  One fine spring day he shot the gifelte fish right off of little Hilda’s cracker- horrifying the next door neighbors at their family gathering.   What a shot!

He was known for his personal touch, his generosity, gentleness, his encouragement, and, of course, his humor.  He had his own repertoire of jokes and loved to laugh at them.

He was an optimist:   “So far so good” was his favorite expression, even in the most dire of circumstances.  And the glass of his life was always half full.

Cousin Mike told his daughter Bea that great-gramps loved words - finding words and phrases with multiple meanings.  His story about Poochini- spelled POOCHINI, the talented dog prodigy musician and conductor, is just one example.  “Designer genes” is another, with genes spelled G E N E S.  He lamented the behavior of certain humans who were not humane- he would say, lacking the e on the end of the word. 

My brother Anthony notes that during World War II in France Dr. Mascia broke the army rules, smuggling penicillin- which was only to be made available to the  troops—to rescue tiny Marie Odile, an infant with pneumonia. Marie got immensely better over a period of a few days- and we still have dad’s temperature  chart to prove it.  He did the same for the abbess of the famous convent of Lisieux.  He did it because it was the right thing to do.

Now I quote brother Joe who writes eloquently about true greatness.  This was dad.

Greatness is starting out your life of service to others by getting blown up and nearly killed for all your trouble, fighting the great battle to destroy one of  the world’s worst monsters. 

Greatness is giving devoted and committed love to the same woman, his wife Bianca, for over seventy years, until her final breath, and to the family they created together, as well as their extended family.

Greatness is caring for and healing thousands of people, at any hour of the day or night, in any and all circumstances, whether compensated or not, whatever the need.

Greatness is continuing to heal and to love and to serve, essentially everyone your life touches, until our own final breath.

A friend mentioned to Joe that God must certainly have been proud to have such a son as dad here on this earth to help him do His work—for an entire century.

And a dear friend of dad’s who is here today said to me the other day—Your dad is a saint.  Quite a statement coming from someone who knows you well!  Yet it is especially true if we consider saints to be the people who let the light of God’s love shine through them- like the stunning windows of this church when the brilliant sunlight pours in.

And now I conclude with three brief memories of my own.

The first was when I was home for summer break during my college years—a very happy day.  Dad asked me to go with him to see a patient at United Hospital.  He warmly greeted everyone.  They smiled and told him what was happening in their lives.  We walked through many corridors as he introduced me to his medical colleagues.  I felt proud to be his son and to have such a father, a man who was clearly well liked and respected.  They say in life it’s more important to be respected than to be liked- true enough- but he had both respect and love. 

My second memory of a month ago will be a permanent image in my soul.  No need for a photo.

When I visited him in Florida his health was declining, yet we all saw that he was  serene, even cheerful, during those final days.  I was privileged to bring him communion.  This was to be the last time in his life on this earth he was to receive.  On the table in front of him I had placed a small Benedictine cross which I happened to have with me.    After communion he picked up the cross in his hand --he peacefully  gazed at the figure of the savior.  In a moment of silent gratitude and admiration, he recognized the man who, like himself, cared, served, healed, and loved until his final breath.   A beautiful moment of recognition in a wonderful life. 

And my third memory-  I was an altar boy in this church many years ago, as were all the brothers.  When dad could get free from his medical demands, I saw him frequently sing up there in that choir loft – along with a dozen or so men in the men’s choir.  He loved the Latin hymns, such as Ave Verum Corpus and Panis Angelicus.  For him, faith was real.  It was no fairy tale.  He likely sang here at funerals for some of his own deceased friends. 

At the end of the funeral mass, the tradition was the singing of the inescapably beautiful Gregorian chant In Paradisum-  to be soon sung here today. 

The Latin words mean-

May the angels lead him into Paradise.

May the martyrs come to welcome him

And lead him into the holy city – Jerusalem.

And so today, Dr. Mascia, Uncle Anthony, dad, grandpa, great-grandpa, --

We trust the angels are singing for you,  welcoming you into the heavenly Jerusalem. 

The city without any need of light from the sun or moon, because the Lord is its light. 

We  hope to meet up with you there some day.

May you rest in peace with your wife Bianca and your son Peter in the joy and light of eternity.  Amen. 

Dr. Anthony R. Mascia died on November 26, 2016. He was 100 years old and would have been 101 this coming Sunday. He was born December 4, 1915 at home on Willow St. in Port Chester to the late Oreste and Mary Capeci Mascia. His father owned a pharmacy on Main Street. He graduated from Port Chester High School, Columbia University with a BA and then Long Island College of Medicine. Dr. Mascia was one of the “greatest generation”, serving as a medical professional in both France and Belgium during World War II and was a Purple Heart recipient.  He was promoted to Captain and sent as Commanding Officer with the 252nd medical detachment to France after the D-Day Invasion of Normandy. After the war, he returned home to Port Chester where he set up a general practice. Soon after, Dr. Mascia received an invitation to serve as the physician for a local school district.  He was offered a job as a clinical physician for the New York State Department of Health in 1972. Dr. Mascia continued to administer immunizations to civil servants well past his retirement, and contributed significantly to the foundation of Veritas Health Care, the non profit. He worked with the Boy Scouts in Port Chester Troop 4 for a number of years as a volunteer and as an interim scout master.  He was a parishioner of the Church of the Resurrection in Rye, NY.  He tried to live by these aphorisms of Hippocrates; "first do no harm", “do good” and “do the right thing, always”.  This was his generous way of caring for all.
He is survived by his sons, Anthony O. Mascia and his wife Katherine of Stirling, NJ., Michael F. Mascia, MD, MPH of Sweden, ME., Elizabeth Mascia of Fayetteville, NY,  John J. Mascia of Fort Pierce, FL., Paul T. Mascia and wife Theresa of Three Bridges, NJ., and Joseph M. Mascia of Saxtons River, VT. daughter in law, Mary Mascia of Thousand Oaks, CA.,  16 grandchildren and 3 great grandchildren. He was predeceased by his wife Bianca D’Agostino Mascia on December 16, 2010, his son, Peter N. Mascia, PhD., sisters, Madeline, Helen, Aurora and Marcia Mascia.  Visitation will be 4-8PM on Friday December 2, 2016 at Craft Memorial Home, Inc.  Mass of Christian Burial will be 11:15AM on Saturday December 3, 2016 at Church of the Resurrection Boston Post Rd. Rye, NY. Interment to follow at St. Mary’s Cemetery Rye Brook, NY. In lieu of flowers tax deductible donations may be made to The Peter Nicholas Mascia Memorial Endowed Scholarship (checks are made out to the St. Anselm College but put a notation on the check indicating the name of the scholarship) 100 St. Anselm Dr. Manchester, NH 03102 or to the non profit, Veritas Health Care. www.veritashc.org
CRAFT MEMORIAL HOME, INC.
40 Leicester St. Port Chester, NY
(914) 939-0131
www.craftmemorialhome.com