These last two days represented a confluence of thought for me around the figure of Fathers. Thursday was the Solennita di San Giuseppe, the Holy Day of St. Joseph. In Ticino, this catholic canton, it is a holiday with high mass celebrated in every church. But like dioceses everywhere, the congregation dwindles, and I often feel like we – me and the other members of our church choir – are more numerous than the rest of the congregation. And since San Giuseppe fell on a Thursday, Friday was declared a school holiday, making for a nice long holiday weekend and for rather empty churches. Nonetheless, San Giuseppe means that it’s Father’s Day here in Ticino, and having the day free meant that families really could celebrate with their fathers. The Unesco World Heritage Castles of Bellinzona offered free entrance for all fathers. The very popular celebration in Vacallo includes the sale of their famous Tortelli di San Giuseppe; this year they used 1,500 eggs, 230 kilos of flour and 50 kilos of sugar to prepare thousands of them. The recipe is a prized secret, so the rest of the ingredients were not revealed. At 11 o’clock, by the time Mass was over, there were no more tortelli to be found. At our Mass, singing the hymns dedicated to San Giuseppe, the thought of my father was so strongly present in my mind, as two days later – today – is his 94th birthday. In this past week, his health became a bit more precarious, and his presence as a father became all the more precious.

Pope Paul VI, in his homily about St. Joseph, said that he was “…in every moment and in every exemplary fashion, an unsurpassable custodian, assistant, teacher.” Pope Francesco also spoke of him as custodian, saying that Joseph was beside Mary in both the serene and difficult moments of life, going on to enlarge the dimension of custodian to all mankind, a dimension that is “simply human”. That one should take care of all of God’s creation, with respect and love. My father would not describe himself as a religious man, though he was raised by parents who were deeply religious, but he is squarely within both Popes’ description of custodian. My father, Dr. William B. Zeiler, is exemplary. He has spent his life taking care of generations of our family with boundless love and generosity. His every impulse is to do good. For his family, his friends and just about anybody he happens to meet. He pushed the boundaries of his profession as pathologist, both to improve practices as well as to facilitate accessibility to diagnostic testing. He reached the top of his profession, elected to be President of the College of American Pathologists as well as President of the World Association of Societies of Pathology and Laboratory Medicine. He approaches everything with intelligence, curiosity, logic, optimism, determination and resoluteness, which translates occasionally into stubbornness, but that is probably what is keeping him alive and well. The beat of jazz has accompanied him from the time he played it on the piano to finance medical school to jamming with top professionals in cities all over the world. Maybe that jazz energy is suffused in his bones, because despite undergoing a difficult and unpleasant exam on Thursday, when I spoke with him on Friday he cheerfully said, “well, it’s another day.” Goodness, what a spirit, what a man. I always have been so proud to be Dr. Zeiler’s daughter.