A dear friend of the Family Outreach and Response Dennis Amato passed away in his home on Friday, June 19, 2009 at the age of 65. He was the beloved husband of Linda Amato (a staff person at FOR) of 44 years. He was a great support to The Family Outreach and Response program and his volunteer work with us was deeply appreciated. Karyn, Emily and Krista wrote and recited this poem to his family and friends after his funeral in his name.Drum roll please…Dennis was our drummer in so many waysPut a smile on our faces in all our work days.His easy rhythm fit in with our groveBut if the truth be told, his beat made us move.We worked hard and played hard, moving to the beat.His steady tempo was reassuring and sweetPlace a request and he’d do his bestTo have him at FOR, we were really blessedHe was organized beyond belief.What will we do without our commander in chief?We couldn’t put anything past his eyes.Crossing the t’s and dotting the I’s.He kept us on time, in time, some of the time.He had a will for life in the face of adversityHe approached his interests with such diversityBe it swinging a golf club or dancing with friends at the HollywoodHe had his health challenges, which he fought, yet understoodHe always rose with strength and determinationHis generosity and kindness made for great celebrationHe had a heart of gold and of himself he did shareOur friend in black with the slick back hairHe had compassion,  passion, and a great sense of fashion.His happiest pulse was most melodic with family.2 married sons, 4 grandkids, and a cherished sweetie.He spoke of their adventures with a sparkle in his eyeFor him we can imagine, it would have been hard to say good-bye.Linda and Dennis were a dancing duo in syncWe’ll be lucky if we make 44 years between the three of us, we think.Their love was steadfast through thick and thinThey relished in their life accomplishments with a mutual grin.While the beat in his heart has stopped on this earthWe will always give thanks for all he was worth.He’s a guardian angel who won’t let us fallToday, in his memory we strive to stand tall.From all the staff at FOR we loved and appreciated you Dennis.We will miss you.

We are the compassionate ones.
We are the gentle, the sweet
and the ugly.
We are the ones screaming
behind the closed doors
of our minds.
Turning tricks with psychiatrists-
there are many tricks
for the magic ones.

We are the rebels
who raise our fists and yell,
Or maybe we’re the rebels
who raise our fists and cry.
Crying, yelling, screaming-
does it really matter?
Earthly matters really.
They say everything is made from matter.
Surely the Earth it matters.

So obvious (all of it,)
so obvious it makes me sick.
So obvious that goodness should prevail,
that everything should be free.
Free in our bodies and minds,
and grocery stores.
All should be free
to seep through the cracks of the pavement
with the wild abandonment
of a sunflower
growing ironically
with purpose and precision
and a certain amount of stoicism.
We could be gathering
truth and beauty and wisdom.
Instead we hunt.

We are the rebels who raise our fists and yell.
We are the children of the Earth.
Help us if you can.

By Emily Collette

I fast become crazy, bizarre and frenetic
when told I am run by forces genetic.
I know that my genes are powerful, still
I’d like to be granted a little free will.
My family origins all are obscure,
and sadly I fear they aren’t very pure,
but if I act crazy, don’t just blame my genes‹
I get great enjoyment from staging mad scenes.
I’d like to take personal credit for those
and not blame my genes, as some shrinks propose.

Tom Greening