A GREAT WAY TO START MY NEW YEAR!

A GREAT WAY TO START MY NEW YEAR!

MONDAY 1-4-16 sicari1921@gmail.com

I just received this review of my ebook TO GEN X, BABY BOOMERS AND MILLENNIALS, WITH LOVE
that is available at Amazon’s Kindle book store for a whopping $2.99.

Official Review: To Gen X, Baby Boomers and Millennials, …
Post Number:#1 by kasi1215 » 29 Dec 2015, 13:13

[Following is the official OnlineBookClub.org review of "To Gen X, Baby Boomers and Millennials,
with Love" by Francis T. Sganga.]

________________________________________
4 out of 4 stars
________________________________________
Review by kasi1215
________________________________________
To Gen X, Baby Boomers and Millennials, with Love includes a brief recollection of the author’s life
with his wife of 57 years and then mostly discusses the various dramatic events that happened after
her death. The author, Francis T. Sganga, was almost 95 years old at the time his set of diary entries
and commentary were put together for this book.

Francis believes the key to a long life is staying in love and being active. When his wife of 57 years
passed away almost suddenly, Francis found a new mate rather quickly according to his children and things
went downhill from there. Francis spent a lot of time with his new mate and did a lot of generous things
for her and especially for his children in the beginning hoping to bribe them into liking her. In the end,
Francis’ children never came around to liking her. Francis determined that his adult children cared more
about their inheritances than they cared for their elderly father. This led to many legal discussions
on disinheriting them and getting back the gifts of property he had given to them. In the end, Francis
found true love and became content with the way his children treated him, but I won’t ruin that by spoiling
the ending in this review.

I really enjoyed this book. At first, I thought the writing style was a little strange; but as I kept reading,
I grew to enjoy it. Francis includes a lot of photos of him and his first wife, Babs, in the first few chapters
to help the reader understand their relationship and his love for her. There are also some photos in the end
that show some evidence of some dramatic events explained in the book as well as some photos of Francis and
the new love of his life. This book made me feel like I was sitting down with Francis as he told me the stories
and showed me pictures of his life. He really is an amazing individual. It is such a rare opportunity to get
inside the mind of such an active, impressive, clear-thinking person of nearly 95 years in age.

I battled back and forth with myself on whose “side” I was on when Francis was having legal issues with his
children about the gifts he was seeking to revoke. Most of the time I sided with Francis because his kids
seemed overly greedy, but other times I could see their point of view. Even now after finishing the book, I
do not know if any of them were in the right 100% of the time during all of the drama that went on. I think
a lot of things could have gone differently and ended in better results – but the world is not one where we
need to spend our time in the land of “if only” and I think Francis understands and accepts that.

Francis is truly happy in his life now and this book is definitely one worth reading. I rate this book 4 out of 4.
It is not a predictable story at all. I was constantly surprised at the chain of events – especially the ending,
but you must read it to find out what happened and how Francis found his happiness again.

The Grim Reaper rears Its Ugly head!

Friday January 15, 2016
Noon
I am dying. I feel it in my bones. My demise, as I approach 95 next April is overdue. The feeling
was triggered this morning when I had a weird experience when I quickly arose from lying in bed to
a sit-up position. The room and everything in it whirled around as though I had just gotten off a
fast-moving merry-go-round. I just sat at the edge of my bed with my legs dangling over the side
waiting for the whirling to stop. After about 30 seconds, it didn’t so I flopped back in a supine
position in bed, and waited, hoping the feeling would soon pass. One of my concerns was going down
the two flights of stairs. In a few minutes I cautiously got out of bed, stood up, monitored my
condition, and descended the stairs holding tightly to the banisters.
I made it to the kitchen successfully, had my usual breakfast of raisin bran and a cup of coffee,
sat at my desk in the living room, called wife May, told her to bring over a chair and told he what
happened so she could “prepare herself” just in case. This was my second experience within a month
re dizziness, but worse than the first, where I was dizzy and my sight was impaired. I told May I
wasn’t concerned about dying. My main concern was her being left alone to take care of our large,
two-story home with large front and back yards, plus the rental unit we own across the street that
we are about 75 % finished renovating to sell next April.
The ironic thing about the situation is that I played rigorous racquetball yesterday morning, winning
all four games, napped, and did heavy-duty yard work at the rental unit afterwards. I am evidently
physically fit, and suspect I’m having a problem with my brain/balancing system. About a year ago I
have a Vertigo problem that was remedied by a physical therapist.
A call my primary doctor was in vain. He was not in, and his receptionist made an appointment to see
him Monday afternoon, and that if necessary, I should go to their Palm Coast clinic (40 miles away or
to the Emergency Room. As I write this, I’m okay. I just stood up quickly as a test, and experienced
no dizziness.
I am now highly motivated to getting the rental unit fully renovated as soon as possible. It’s a nasty,
rainy day right now, and God willing, I will go at it with renewed vigor tomorrow. One of the things I
will stop doing for now is driving our car. If I were to experience another “seizure” it could well cause
an accident or worse. I’ve got to suppress my Macho feelings and be sensible.
8 p.m.
Woke up from my one hour nap and cautiously and slowly sat upright, dangled my legs over the side of the
bed, assessed my condition, and decided it was okay to stand up. Went down the 16 steps to the kitchen,
had my tea with half a donut on the porch, mulled over what to do next, and decided I was not going to
just sit on my butt doing nothing. Defying the Grim Reaper, I pumped ten pound dumbbells for 15 minutes
then went over to our rental unit and did some yard work for about an hour till May came over to announce
dinner was ready. Right now I feel fine. No aches or pains. Hopefully, it will turn out to be an intermittent
problem. We’ll see.

INSTALLMENT #8

Installment #8 re: The Continuing Saga of a Family’s Destruction Caused by Greed.

Narrator: Francis (Frank) T. Sganga … sicari1921@gmail.com

This sad story can be found in its entirety at: www.sganga.net or
in my ebook TO GEN X, BABY BOOMERS AND MILLENNIALS, WITH LOVE
available at Amazon’s Kindle store.

Saturday January 2, 2016

I never thought it would happen to me. When the police arrived and took photographs of the bloody scene,
BOTH Jeanie and I were cuffed and hauled off to jail because it was a typical “he said, she said” situation.
I asked the arresting officer if it was a private matter between a husband and wife, and he replied, “Not
when you cll 9-1-1 and there’s the place and the partcipants.”

I tell the story in my screenplay, True Love Never Dies that I converted into an ebook available at Kindle’s store.
Tony Civale is my alto ego.
INT. 8 ft x 10 ft “HOLDING CELL” IN JAIL – NIGHT
Inside: Concrete block walls; cement floor, wooden bench against a wall, stainless steel commode in a corner, no windows.
Tony’s totally alone. Complete silence prevails. We see an hour elapse on a clock as he sits on the bench, with his head
between his hands, pacing the floor and doing pushups.
TONY
(mutters)
You could have a heart attack in this damn place
and no one would notice.
He continues to do push-ups and sit-ups; counts paces; a clock shows that two more hours elapse. He bangs on bars with
his shoe. Officer approaches.
OFFICER
Cut that out! What do you want?
TONY
I’d like some water, please.
OFFICER
There’s a faucet attached to the top of the commode.
TONY
I tried it. It doesn’t work.
Officer unlocks cell door and enters. He checks the faucet; it doesn’t work. He leaves and returns, handing Tony a small
Dixie cup of water through the bars.
TONY
Thanks. How much longer will I have to be in here?
OFFICER
Till the paperwork’s done.
TONY

How about food?

OFFICER
We don’t serve food here. You’ll get it
at the detention center.
Officer walks off.
INT. SQUAD CAR – NIGHT
The same officer who cuffed him when he was arrested is taking Tony to the county detention center some 20 miles
away. They enter center. A guard with clipboard:
GUARD TO TONY
(Gruffly)

Sir, stand over there in that white box on the floor
with your back against the wall.
The guard, picks up a plastic tray and approaches Tony.
GUARD
Empty your pockets and put your stuff in this tray.
Tony complies; guard pats Tony down.
INT. JAIL – HOLDING CELL – NIGHT
Tony, still wearing his “civilian” clothes, is back inside a holding cell with three grubby-looking characters,
one asleep on a wooden bench, one pacing and the other sitting on the commode in a corner. He looks at Tony and
shakes his head.
INMATE
On a commode
Pops. What the hell are you doing in here?
TONY
I hit on a hooker who turned out to be a cop.
INMATE
You’re pulling my leg.
TONY
Dude, that’s the last thing I’d do with
you sitting on that damn potty.
Laughter. A guard unlocks the steel door. Enters holding a batch of brown bags, which he tosses to the inmates
one at a time. Tony opens his bag and spreads contents on the bench:
A sandwich, an apple and a small carton of fruit juice.
TONY
(open sandwich in hand)

Anyone want to trade baloney for cheese?

Guy next to Tony picks up his cheese with his grubby fingers, hands it to Tony, and takes the baloney off Tony’s
sandwich. Tony stares at the cheese atop his sandwich, shrugs, and starts eating it.
INT. DETENTION CENTER – DAY
Tony, in an over-sized orange jump suit, is taken to another holding cell. He stands in doorway facing a variety
of 30 tough-looking inmates.
INMATE
Hey old man, don’t just stand there.
C’mon in and join the party.
Tony, with a serious look, scans their faces like a teacher would scan a class for a spitball thrower.
TONY
Okay guys, since I’m the oldest one in here,
I’m in charge!
Loud guffaws. Tony sits on bench between two burly guys, one Black, the other a Latino. On an opposite bench is a
James Cagney-type inmate – short and feisty-looking.
INMATE
What are you in for old man.
TONY
Aggravated assault and battery.
INMATE
Who with?
TONY
My old lady.
INMATE
You beat up an old lady?
TONY
She’s only 52.
Inmate gesturing with a raised fist:
INMATE
Cool man. Did you bang her?
Tony stares distastefully at him for a moment.
TONY
You know what I like about you, kid?
You’re the only one in here I’m taller than.
Laughter. Other inmates look at each other, nodding in admiration of the old man’s spunk.
INT. COURTROOM – DAY
Tony enters courtroom wearing his oversized jump suit. He’s 5th in line, handcuffed wrist-to-wrist to a much
taller, burly inmate. Judge behind bench riffling through a batch
of rap sheets. [Series of shots of Court Clerk calling names; inmates approaching the bench and being talked
to by judge].
It’s Tony’s turn. Judge looks at his profile sheet, then scans Tony top to bottom; shakes his head.
JUDGE
Mr. Civale, you are charged with aggravated assault and battery. Since this is your first offense, and at your
age, I am going to give you a choice. Either go to trial, or plead no contest, which means you will be on probation
and be required to attend anger-management classes.
TONY
Your honor, I’d rather not have to endure a trial
and the expense. I’ll go with probation and anger
management classes.
JUDGE
Good, my docket is already overloaded. Your probation
is for a year, but if you behave yourself, it will be shortened
to 6 months. You will also be required to attend the anger-management classes for 6 weeks. Any questions?
TONY
Yes, Sir. Am I free to go home?
JUDGE
You will spend the night in jail while the paperwork
is being processed. After being processed, you
will be released on your own recognizance.
TONY
Thank you, your honor.

To be continued with my attending an ANGER MANAGEMENT CLASS.

1-1-16 Instalment #7

Installment #7 re: The Continuing Saga of a Family’s Destruction Caused by Greed.

Narrator: Francis (Frank) T. Sganga … sicari1921@gmail.com

This sad story can be found in its entirety at: www.sganga.net

Friday January 1, 2016

Writing my memoirs is not a pleasant task, but I feel compelled to do so because:

1. I want to help others by letting them know the serious mistakes I made hoping they would learn from them.

2. I want the whole world to know about the ingratitude of my children and the cruel way they have treated
me because they disapproved of my behavior after the death of my first wife Babs, who bore them. It’s my
way of “spanking them” for THEIR misbehavior.

3. It gives me something worthwhile to do in the evening other than watch boring and inane TV shows.
Jeanie hated Joel’s wife Jammie ever since he married her. My seemingly great idea of having Joel and
his family live next door so Jeanie could have more frequent access to her grandchildren and I would
have the pleasure of helping members of my new family and playing with the kids as well. As a teacher,
kids have always been “my thing.”
Well, a few months after Joel and his family settled into their beautiful new home (which I now live
in), Jeanie changed from Dr. Jekyll to Mr(s). Hyde. She couldn’t stand having her hated daughter-in-law
living in a house so much more elegant than ours. I didn’t mind at all, and I wouldn’t have exchanged
homes with Joel because I loved my backyard swimming pool and the hot tub on my porch I soaked in
playing racquetball. Then it started to happen, like i did in the movies (Jeanie was a movie freak)
ARSENIC AND OLD LACE, and MISERY.

On March 3, 2006 I developed a bad sore throat. In a few days, I began coughing up phlegm that got
continually worse. The condition lasted more than a year, during which time I saw about a dozen doctors,
including my primary doctor, a lung specialist, a nose and throat specialist, an allergy specialist,
and several others. I used Advair, took pills and got shots, but nothing alleviated the condition. Also
during that year of misery, I had intermittent bouts of flu-like symptoms, including slightly elevated
fevers. I attributed it all to old age and decided the condition was chronic and I’d just have to learn
to live with it.

While I was having miserable coughing fits, Jeanie acted indifferently, and avoided me as much as possible.
No hugs, no kisses, no sex. Then, things went from bad to worse, much worse. Having been a depression-era
kid, I was fussy about lights being turned off when not in use. On the evening of September 6, 2007, I returned
home from racquetball and damn, she not only spitefully had all of the inside lights turned on but also all of
the outside lights and the half dozen ceiling fans.

I lost it. I took my racquet and slashed away at vases adorned with her favorite artificial flower arrangements
in the living room, then headed down a corridor to the bedrooms. When I got to hers, there she was standing in
the doorway glaring at me with her arms on her hips. Beside her was another flower arrangement atop a bookcase,
and I reached in beside her and smashed them too. In a flash I was on my back (she had taken Martial Arts lessons
with daughter Laura) on the floor with 220 lbs. of blob atop me with one of her massive breasts over my mouth.
The martial arts classes she took with daughter Laura paid off!

I panicked. I was sure the bitch was trying to smother me. In desperation, I grabbed her hair with my stronger
right arm and pulled her head to the right, winding up on top of her. She punched at my face with both fat fists,
while I used my forearms to deflect the blows. I kept yelling at her to quit, but to no avail. Then God intervened.

I reached out with my arm and my hand found and gripped a porcelain electrical insulator we used for a doorstop,
and I used it to give her head a glancing blow trying to get her to quit. She still wouldn’t. Since she was a lot
younger and stronger, I knew I couldn’t let her get up. So, after she smashed her fist against my nose, I angrily
hit her head a second time with the insulator, but more directly and harder.

Incredibly, my primitive animal instincts took over: I didn’t give a damn whether or not I killed her.
Blood spewed all over her face, over me and onto the carpet. This time she quit, we disentangled, and we both
called 911. Since it was a “he said, she said situation,” we were both hauled off to jail, I at 86, she at 52.

The charge: Aggravated domestic battery.

The headline in the Daytona Beach News-Journal on September 8, 2007:
Police: Ex-educator, wife had bloody fight.

We both called 9-1-1, and our yard was crowded with police cars, and an E.R. vehicle, all with their red and
blue lights flashing and gawking neighbors.

To be continued….

INSTALLMENT #6

Installment #6 re: The Continuing Saga of a Family’s Destruction Caused by Greed.

Narrator: Francis (Frank) T. Sganga … sicari1921@gmail.com

This sad story can be found in its entirety at: www.sganga.net

Thursday, December 31, 2015

In a letter signed by Brian, Clare and Laura, they refused to return control of MY property to me.
To say that I was angry, is to put it mildly. My lawyer asked if Brian explained the Life-Estate
Deed to me that he encouraged me to sign, I said, “No, I trusted him completely.” He replied,
“It’s the law.” I said, “Okay, please write each of them telling them if they don’t return my
property in 30 days I will take them to court.”

That did it, but it ended all communication between us, and truthfully I didn’t care. They treated
me like I was no longer competent and wrote me off. From then on, for years there were no birthday,
Fathers day or Christmas cards. Not even now as the New Year 2016 starts in just a few hours.

Well, I had Jeanie and her family to retreat to. She had a son, Joel, 29, who had two young children
9 and 5, and a daughter, Jessica 26, who had a very vivacious 6 year-old daughter,
Adrianna, who was a joy to behold. The situation brought to mind what Sean Connery said at the end
of the movie, Finding Forrester:

“Losing family obliges us to find our family,
not always the family that is our blood.
And should we
have the wisdom to open our door to this new family,
we will find the wishes we once had for the father
who once guided us, for the brother who once inspired us.”

I was very happy with my new family. The first two years of marriage were great. When I first
met Jeanie, her son Joel and his wife were estranged. He lived by himself, and his wife, Jammie,
along with their two children, lived with another woman. In talking at length with Joel, who
longed to be reunited with his wife and children, I told him I’d buy a house for them, and he
could pay me rent that equaled the amount of mortgage payments. He readily agreed, and I had a
great sense of satisfaction in seeing them all together enjoying their new home and each other.

At about the beginning of the third year of our marriage, I had what I thought was a great idea.
The house Jeanie and I lived in had a backyard pool and a hot tub. I enjoyed many a summer day
watching Jeanie frolic in the pool with her three grandkids. So, I thought, since I owned the
beautiful Bayfront lot next door worth $100,000, why not build a home for Joel and his family
on it so Jeanie could see and play with her grandkids even more? In speaking to Joel and his wife,
I told them to find a set of plans they liked, and I would do the rest. Based upon my experiences
with my one-story home that had a limited view of the bay, I recommended that they choose a two-story
home, with a fireplace. It turned out to be beautiful, and once again Joel and his family were in
“hog heaven.”

The euphoria only lasted about a year. After two years of a happy marriage to Jeanie, what was at first
a great idea, turned out to be a tragic one, as you will soon see.

To be continued….

INSTALLMENT #5

Installment #5 re: The Continuing Saga of a Family’s Destruction Caused by Greed.

Narrator: Francis (Frank) T. Sganga … sicari1921@gmail.com

This sad story can be found in its entirety at: www.sganga.net

Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Way back in 1960, wife Babs and I bought a large Bayfront lot for $500 (Now worth $150,000!)
and soon thereafter had a home custom built that cost $17,000 (Now worth $250,000) where we
raised our four kids. Several years later we bought a lot adjoining ours, for $3,500 (I turned
down a $100,000 offer to sell it just a few years ago) that separated our property from a
city-owned park.

My recalcitrant kids still refused to accept Jeanie as family some 8 months after I married her.
However, we still maintained “a running battle” via exchanges of emails. In one of them, lawyer
son Brian suggested that I sign a “life-estate deed” that, in the event of my death, he would
acquire the house Jeanie and I lived in, and daughter Clare would acquire the adjoining lot.
I did without even reading the thing because I completely trusted him and thought that doing so
would bring us all back together again as family. I also thought it would be alike a “will”
where I could change my mind, if necessary.

Soon thereafter, it occurred to me that signing the deed would put Jeanie in jeopardy, since
in the event of my death, and the fact that they would not accept her, Brian would get the
house and THROW JEANIE OUT! So, when I went to the courthouse to change the wording of the
deed, I was told I couldn’t do it, and that I would have to get my lawyer’s help.

Then came the shocking news, I needed to get Brian and Clare to agree to deed the properties
back to me. As things stood, I couldn’t even sell the properties if I had to. Also, the lawyer
told me he didn’t do life-estate deeds that way by locking in his client as Brain did me.

After requesting my kids to return of my property to my control to protect Jeanie from being
homeless, I received this email letter from Clare:

Dear Dad:
I hope Jean’s surgery goes well, and that she is strong again soon. I know you are
very concerned about her. Steve and I are sincerely pleased that you have found
someone compatible to share your life with.
Please re-read the letter that we, your children wrote to you and see that we all
agree about the need you both have for a soulmate as each of us do also.
I forgive the cruel statements you have made in your letters, such as the “Sganga blood”
sentence; “us placing greater need on properties than on you; Failure to communicate.”
You have not telephoned since January, I have called regularly and sent you gifts. You
have known me for almost 54 years now and know that I am not a greedy person, nor is Steve.
This is not about greed.
You want to take away the Sganga homestead that you and mother promised was to be your
children’s and future generations. Who wants to disinherit whom? Brian and I both were
hoping to continue sharing Turnbull Bay with Rachel. Mary Scott and your future grandchildren
and great grandchildren. And you want to give everything away? The grief we are all feeling
is mutual.
Why do you feel the need to give away everything entirely? We do not understand where all
this is coming from. Again, please re-read our letter to you and you will see our hearts
are still caring. “Promises, commitments and family are to withstand changing times.”
Love, Clare
Notice the give away everything entirely sentence. That tells it all. Suppose I gave it all
to charity? Would they be as upset? Who cares? It’s for me to decide, not them. They don’t
need the money or the property. I wasn’t going to get into a letter-writing contest, but felt
I had to do it one more time. e-mailed this to Clare, copies to Brian and Laura:

My response:

Dear Clare:
I do not want to get into what has happened or has been said in the past, or what I did or you
did regarding communications between us. Brian’s not calling me in over a month is inexcusable,
especially since he told me he would return the house to my control as we chatted around the pool.
No mention was made about what would happen to Jeanie if I croaked and he owned the house.
Presumably then, he would tell her to get out. I waited for you to respond to my e-mail request
for return of control of my property, and the totally unexpected response was no.
You say you all grew up here. So what! Where can your kids say they grew up? Where is Rachel growing
up? Will she have fond memories of that home her Dad abandoned and which Jackie will probably sell?
All of your arguments are superficial, including telling me about Rachel’s reaction to the pictures
in Mom’s room being gone. I removed those of my parents and Mom’s because it was now Jean’s room, and
what’s the point of having pictures of four dead strangers staring at her?
I am attached to Jeanie as much as you are to Steve, and Brian is to Missy, and Laura is to Don. Would
any of you leave your spouses out in the cold? Your use of the house is frivolous compared to her need
for it, should she survive me, which is not guaranteed. None of you really need it.
Mother’s death changed everything regarding my situation. Finding another companion, (or my “live-in-lover”
as you insultingly called her) has been a blessing. I believe Laura poisoned the water, and is mainly
responsible for the current family fiasco. I have spoken to many people, including my buddies at racquetball
and my attorney, and they all shake their heads in disbelief; they can’t believe my children would put property
ahead of their father, which is exactly what you are doing, no matter how you try to rationalize it.
I am angry that you are choosing property over me. My reasoning is simple: If you had simply signed the
quit-claim deed, there would have been no need for all of this hogwash. Why you can’t see this is beyond me.
I will be seeing my attorney Tuesday to tell him to proceed with my case against Brian and the way he conned
me out of my property. (Why hasn’t he contacted me to argue otherwise?)
Once we go to court, we will have crossed the point of no return; it will be all over between us. It’s tragic,
considering how happy we were as a family, but you three have got me trapped in a corner, and I intend to fight
my way out. You should have known I would. I feel as betrayed as Caesar did when he was stabbed in the back by
his “friend” Brutus.

Installment #4

Installment #4 re: The Continuing Saga of a Family’s Destruction Caused by Greed.

Narrator: Francis (Frank) T. Sganga … sicari1921@gmail.com

This sad story can be found in its entirety at: www.sganga.net

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

On he next visit, Jeanie, 52, appeared at the door in a tight-fitting, low-cut dress that
exposed an ample amount of cleavage formed by her equally ample boobs. While we both sat
closely together at my computer, she said she thought there was sufficient evidence of
malpractice to warrant either going to court or filing a complaint with the Florida Board
of Physicians. We chatted a while and she told me she divorced her womanizing husband several
years ago and was having a hard time making ends meet.

Well, having a foxy woman within arms length caused my libido to kick in full force. Looking
into her eyes, I said, “Jeanie, it’s been a long time since I touched a woman, Do you mind?”
She smiled invitingly, and I began doing the male thing.

We eventually became an item, but secretly at first because I didn’t think my grown children
would approve of my being involved with a woman so soon after their mother died. One of the
serious dilemmas I faced was that daughter Laura hated Jeanie with a passion, and it wasn’t
till much later that I found out why.

I had a home built for Laura on a $100,000 three-acre parcel of land I owned. She and her
loser husband lied in a hovel, and I felt duty-bound to help her enhance her life style since
I could well afford it. To try to get her to accept Jeanie, after we married on December 4, 2004,
I deeded her an adjoining $100,000 three acre parcel of land also worth $100,000. I didn’t work.
She, nor any of my other children would accept Jeanie, and of course, they didn’t respond to the
wedding invitations I sent them.

After weeks of my visiting Jeanie in her apartment, in a rundown neighborhood, and her visiting
me at home, I invited her to come live with me, and she did. When my kids found out, all hell
broke loose! We exchanged dozens of emails, in which I tried to explain my dire need for companionship
at my age, and the deteriorating effect loneliness has on surviving spouses. In one email from daughter
Clare, she referred to Jeanie as my “live-in lover.”

Clare’s attitude toward my living with Jeanie was hypocritical. Her son Jon lived with Beth for some
two years before marrying, and put Babs and me in a quandary about what we would do if they visited us.
The idea of letting them sleep in the same room together did not appeal to our sense of propriety.
When we attended their eventual wedding, they acted and dressed like two innocent virgins who were
about to embark on a new adventure.
I thought it odd that they would defy convention by living together, then embrace convention when it
suited them. Her wearing a white wedding gown, which supposedly represented “purity,” seemed to be an
anachronism. Long before they married, Steve and Clare even helped them buy a home. In any case, all
four parents who were “devout” Christians and Bible adherents, were deliriously happy with the proceedings.
Hey, what about me? How come I’m a pariah?

To be continued ….

Installment #3 Re; The Destruction of the Sganga Family

Entry #3 re: The Continuing Saga of a Family’s Destruction Caused by Greed.

Narrator: Francis (Frank) T. Sganga … sicari1921@gmail.com

This sad story can be found in its entirety at: www.sganga.net

Monday, December 28, 2015

THE PROPITIOUS PHONE CALL THAT CHANGED MY LIFE

Many studies conclude that prolonged loneliness can kill you. Suddenly and unexpectedly losing wife
Babs after almost 60 years of a loving companionship became more and more unbearable as days dissolved
into weeks and the weeks slowly, but inexorably, dissolved into months. It took a while for me to stop
crying myself to sleep as I vainly tried to stop regurgitating the awful week I spent by her bedside
watching her die until a ping on the digital monitor she was attached to announced the fact that the
end of a beautiful woman’s life had arrived.

At 82, I was still virile, physically fit enough to play racquetball and handle an 800 lb. Yamaha
motorcycle, as I still do today. The many years of joyful cuddling with Babs made me became an
“affection addict” that I was forced to give up “cold turkey” when I lost her.

Making daily entries into my blog helped ease the pain. This is from my book: To Gen X, Baby Boomers
and Millennials, with Love:

Early one evening several months later, as I sat at my computer, a woman called, and I responded in my
usual fashion, “Hi, this is Frank Sganga. To whom am I speaking?” I respond this way because many people
start talking and I don’t know who the hell they are, to stop solicitors before they get wound up, and
to ward off wrong number calls.
“This is Jeanie Baker.
“Jeanie Baker?”
“Yes, but I used to be Jeanie Wheaton, remember me?”
“Now I do.”
We knew the Wheaton’s well. Being strict Catholics, they wound up having seven children. Since Jeanie
played frequently with daughter Laura, we knew her best, and she and Babs were good buddies. On top of
that, Jeanie and Laura were in the same 4th grade class that Babs taught at Sacred Heart School.
“May I speak to Babs?”
Oh God, I thought, hesitated, then dreading what I had to tell her, I finally said the awful words,
“Babs died October 4th.” I lost it during the few moments of silence that followed, and Jeanie finally
responded, “I’m so sorry.”
I didn’t know what to say. She helped by asking, “May I come over and give you a hug.” I was on the
verge of begging off the hug because I was in no frame of mind to rehash what happened, but, I felt I
owed her at least that, since she and Babs were close, and reluctantly acquiesced.
When she appeared at the door, I remembered her face and winning smile, and invited her in. After giving
me a hug, we went back to my computer room where I was fine-tuning the diary I wrote during that horrible
week in the hospital for submission to an attorney. I chatted with her for a few minutes about where she
lives and what she was doing.
When she said she was working as a health care provider,
I said, “Jeanie I’m not going to tell you what happened. It’s too painful. This diary I wrote tells the
whole story. The bottom line is that I feel strongly that what happened to Babs was due primarily to
negligence and incompetence. Since you are in the medical field, I would appreciate it if you would read
this and analyze it to help me determine if I have a case against her oncology doctor and the hospital.”
Wanting to keep the visit brief, I got up, got a goodbye hug, and lead her to the door.

Little did I realize the unbelievable consequences that would follow after that short visit.

To be continued …

Life is truly a roll of the dice!

Entry #2 re: The continuing saga of a family’s destruction caused by Greed.

Narrator: Francis (Frank) T. Sganga … sicari1921@gmail.com

This sad story can be found in its entirety at: www.sganga.net
Sunday, December 27, 2015

Until wife Babs died on October 4, 2003, the six members of the Sganga family were close-knit and happy.
One of our most memorable adventures was a two-week trip we made to visit my younger sister, Anne, in California.
I had just finished writing a 6th grade science book for the American Book Co. and used my royalty to buy a new
station wagon that had a rack on its roof that enabled us to carry along a tent, etc. so we could camp in State
and Federal parks each night.
After traveling some 500 miles on a hot midsummer day, in a car that had no air conditioning, we finally arrived
at a state park setting up our tent, and oldest son Paul and I headed for the showers. Half way through, daughter
Clare entered and exclaimed, “Dad! What are you doing in here?” It turned out it was a women’s rest room, and
as Paul and I scooted out, I found out what happened. As we walked toward the restrooms, there was a sign that
said “women,” but since we approached at an angle, all I could see was the “men” in the word “women.”

That was 50 years before Babs’ totally unexpected unnecessary death. A few months before her demise, a 2-inch
cancer was successfully removed from her colon. However, her surgeon said there were some cancer cells in her
lymph glands, and we followed his advice to play it safe via chemo treatments. In the oncology department at
New Smyrna Beach’s Fish Medical Center, she was put under the care of a Pakistan-trained doctor, named Abdul
Sorathia, who was mainly responsible for her premature death. (A detailed description of why is included in my
Kindle ebook: To Gen X, Baby Boomers and Millennials, with Love.)

I spent a full week by her bedside helplessly trying to soothe her as I watched her descend into a coma and die.
Suddenly losing a loving companion of 57 years brought me to the brink of total despair, and I really didn’t give
a damn whether I lived or died. Many times, during that awful week, as I looked at her withering away, I truly
wished that it was I in that bed instead of her.

Sitting at home, totally alone after her funeral, was soul-wrenching. I was 82. I kept asking myself, “What the hell
do I do now?” After a few months of listless living, while making an entry into my website that gave me some modicum
of relief from my distress, a life preserver was thrown to me in the form of a phone call. It was a life-changer that
subsequently brought about unbelievable changes in my life.

To be continued….

The Truth, the Whole Truth, and nothing but the Truth

The Truth, the Whole Truth and Nothing but the Truth
This continuing story will be posted on Facebook and my blog at
www.sganga.net

I tell it hoping it will help others gain some of the wisdom I have gained
as I struggled to make my life as meaningful as possible.

Truth sits upon the lips
of dying men.
Matthew Arnold

Saturday, December 26, 2015

Call me Frank. Today, at the local library, I experienced a dizzy spell. My sight became impaired and to play it safe, I told my wife May about about it and gave her the key to the car for the drive back home We considered going to the E. R., but I decided to wait it out. That was two hours ago, and I’ve been back to normal for the past hour. I checked WEBMD, and predictably, there numerous possible causes, including low blood pressure, which I have had most of my adult life.

Of course, as I approach 95 on April 29, 2016, I am acutely aware of my vulnerability to being harvested by the Grim Reaper. who sits on one shoulder while the Mortician sits on the other one. Truly, my only concern about dying is that wife May would have a very difficult time taking care of our two-story home, large yards, and the rental unit we are renovating for sale next April.

I am about to tell you a very sad story about what has happened to me and my family after my first wife, Babs, of 57 years, was killed by a 2nd chemo treatment at the local hospital in 2003, that on the face of it, seems tragic, but ended up with my being “born again.”

Babs and I had four children, two boys and two girls that currently range in age from 50 to 68. As things stand now, I have legally disinherited all of them to keep them from having any claims to my assets, which I have willed to May, my loving wife of six years This Christmas (yesterday) my four adult children completely ignored my existence, as they did on my last birthday and Fathers Day. I have two small grandchildren and three great grandchildren I have never seen, nor do I know their names.

The situation seems sad, and would probably be tragic if I were a widower who chose to live alone after Babs died, grieving myself to death, as often happens upon the death of one old spouse. Not long ago I read that when it happened to one couple, the other one died just days later.

I’m a different breed of cat with a common sense perspective. Babs died 12 years ago, and although I grieved and cried a lot afterwards, I came to realize the wisdom of this quotation:

Excess of grief for the dead is madness
for it is an injury to the living,
and the dead know it not.
Xenophon

The song, Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina, just popped into my head as I pondered what to say next.
Well, don’t cry for me either. I’ve never been happier. The paths I intuitively chose to take that satisfied the demands of my Soul have led to a peaceful state of mind that I consider to be equivalent to Nirvana. You see, the reason is that “I’ve got a life!” And, the greatest contributor to that, is my wife, May. After we married, she inspired me to write most of the 11 books now being sold at Amazon’s Kindle Store that bear my formal name Francis T. Sganga. But, best of all, she is providing me with the kind of priceless companionship that a man my age is so lucky to have.

If the Guinness Book of Records had a category titled The Most Ungrateful Children in the World, my four kids would be at the top of the list. As this story unfolds, you will find out why. In my next entry I will begin this woeful tale with Babs’ totally unexpected, unnecessary death
that was the most traumatic experience in my life. We humans are loathe to believe the reality of Death. As Morrie says in the book Tuesdays with Morrie:

Everyone knows they are going to die,
but nobody believes it.

To be continued….

MY PATH TO LONGEVITY

Tuesday – December 22, 2015 sicari1921@gmail.com
I am an ongoing experiment titled:

WILL MY REGIMEN HELP MY BREAK THE OLDEST LIVING HUMAN BEING RECORD?

I will be 95 next April 29, 2016, alive or dead. Right now:

PHYSICAL REGIMEN
1. I have no significant ailments.
2. I take NO PILLS, not even vitamins.
3. I honeymoon about once a week, and much to my surprise and delight,
I can still experience an orgasm.
4. I played 4 games of 4-wall racquetball (doubles) this morning at the Port Orange
YMCA, winning 3/4.
5. My blood pressure averages 110/70 and at 5 ft. 6 in., I weigh 157 lbs. (I don’t
allow myself to exceed 160 lbs.)
6. I do not eat bacon, sausages, hamburgers, cold cuts, beef or pork, fried food,
store-bought cookies or chips, candy or ice cream (frozen yogurt is O.K.)
7. I do eat fish, chicken breasts, and all kinds of beans, including roasted peanuts.
8. I strengthen my arms and shoulders for racquetball playing using 10 lb. dumbbells
and my grip using a handgrip while watching TV and in my car while driving.
9. I ride an 800 Yamaha Motorcycle for fun and psychological reasons.
10. I take a power nap every day for about 2 hours after lunch.
11. After a breakfast of a bowl of raisin bran and a cup of coffee, I sit on my
porch overlooking the flora and fauna in our back yard bordering Turnbull Bay
mediating about my many blessings and the miracle of being alive.

MENTAL AND SPIRITUAL REGIMEN
1. I am the writer of 11 non-fiction ebooks currently being sold at Amazon’s Kindle Book store.
Most of them were written after I turned 90. (Go to Kindle Books and type in
Francis T. Sganga books.)
2. I am a lifetime learner who wants to learn all he can about LIFE and the UNIVERSE he lives
in. For example: Is there an intelligent Designer? Why do I exist? Where did LIFE, the MIND
and CONSCIOUSNESS come from? Is this all there is? What is the SOUL? Where did our
SENSE OF BEAUTY come from? (Cows don’t notice rainbows.)
3. I avoid the BAD KARMA emanating from violent, mayhem movies and TV. As with eating, I
ask myself: Is this good for my physical and mental health? Does it have any REDEEMING
VALUE?
4. I told my wife early on: Let’s concentrate on doing all we can to make each other happy.
5. I strictly adhere to the GOLDEN RULE and obey the TEN COMMANDMENTS.
6. I try to help fellow human beings as much as possible and that’s what my books are all about.