EULOGY BY SAM IACOBELLIS FOR DOROTHY CHRISTIANA

On 2025-03-03, Representative John B. Larson (D-CT-1) delivered a floor speech titled "EULOGY BY SAM IACOBELLIS FOR DOROTHY CHRISTIANA" in the House. The speech addressed labor policy.

EULOGY BY SAM IACOBELLIS FOR DOROTHY CHRISTIANA

Congressional Record, Volume 171 Issue 40 (Monday, March 3, 2025) [Congressional Record Volume 171, Number 40 (Monday, March 3, 2025)] [Extensions of Remarks] [Pages E177-E178] From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [ www.gpo.gov ] EULOGY BY SAM IACOBELLIS FOR DOROTHY CHRISTIANA ______ HON. JOHN B. LARSON of connecticut in the house of representatives Monday, March 3, 2025 Mr. LARSON of Connecticut. Mr. Speaker, it is my honor to include in the Record the Eulogy of Dorothy Christiana, delivered at her funeral by her grandson, Sam Iacobellis. Her granddaughter Nina Bloom provided the prayers of her passing and was followed by Sam, whose eloquence, tone, humor, with compassionate care captured a truly remarkable woman and the family she raised. I have had the privilege of knowing the Christiana family for over sixty years. The farm on 1215 Silver Lane was a magical and welcoming place made so by Dorothy's cooking and her delightful daughters, Linda, Patty, and Karen, always the center of her life, and the man to whom she was devoted--Carman F. Christiana. Carman ran the iconic family farm in East Hartford, thus carrying on a tradition and farming skill he acquired throughout his life, along with the woman who loved and cared for him deeply. The story of Dorothy and her family, her husband Carman, her daughters, Linda, Patty, and Karen, is a story of love for the ages captured with eloquence by her grandson, Sam Iacobellis. Thank you all for being here today as we celebrate a truly extraordinary life. To know her was to love her. My grandmother went by many names in her dynamic 97 years. Dotty. Dot. Aunt Dot. Mrs. Christiana. Mother Dear. Ma. Gram. Great Grammie. But to me, Dorothy Christiana was always Dee Dee. Born on the 17th Day of the 7th month in the year 1927 in Manchester, Connecticut. She was the youngest of three children to Frank & Letitia Irwin. A graduate of Manchester High School's Class of 1945. Active in planning class reunions, which, appropriately, were always at the Manchester Country Club. Dee Dee loved her hometown. Whether it was regaling stories about working at a local movie theater, parading down Main Street with her family and friends after the Allies were victorious in the Second World War, never missing a Memorial Day parade where she would always point out her brother Ernie's Boy Scout troop or her long-time Sherwood Circle neighbor, Frank, behind the wheel of an 8th Utilities District fire truck, or holding court next to my parent's fireplace on Thanksgiving Day with the familiar refrain of, ``There are the runners,'' as soon as the Road Racers returned, Dee Dee just loved Manchester. That love will be forever eternalized, as she will be laid to rest just a few miles from where she entered the world, next to her parents, her brother Ernie, and her beloved husband, Carman. It is also appropriate that we are here today, in East Hartford, the place where my grandmother met her love, Carman, and started a family. The divine serendipity of a faulty bus on Silver Lane where two strangers met and set off a series of events that led to nearly all of us being together today. That divine serendipity also led to three daughters: Linda, Patty, and Karen. Three [[Page E178]] strong, gritty, accomplished, intelligent women. Women whom my grandmother knew better than they knew themselves and saw different parts of herself in each of them. The keenest of maternal instincts. The farm they called home for decades was a place for family, friends, food, laughter, and memories made. She was a surrogate mother for the phalanx of people who always walked through her front door. Speaking for my cousin Nina and I, we so wish we could have been flies on the wall at one of those legendary gatherings. It is said that there's a special place in heaven for the father of three girls. I remember seeing that written on a piece of art hung in the home of dear family friends, Ray and Peg Ramsey's home for years. I do not dispute that claim at all. Ray Ramsey is certainly there. As is my grandfather Carman, a man whom Nina and I never had the honor of meeting but have heard glorious stories about for our entire lives. I would like to say that I firmly believe that such a special place also exists for the mother of three girls. My grandmother raised three extraordinary women. Simply amazing. While my grandfather's light was extinguished far too early, it lived on in his wife and daughters. The strength and vibrancy of these three women are in no small part due to the fierce determination, ironclad will, and overwhelming dignity of my grandmother. What an example. That is simply special. What brings a smile to my face is that this legacy lives on dynamically as ever with her granddaughter, Nina. Nina and her husband Orion are raising three incredible young women: Annie, Adalin, and Noelle. Three brilliant, kind, and loving sisters who look after one another and lift each other up. The symmetry is undeniable. It is a blessing beyond measure that our grandmother got to be a great-grandmother three times over and had the opportunity to get to know these three dynamos and watch the torch passed to another generation of impressively wonderful Christian women. She was a matriarch in the truest sense of the word. Her home was always open. Food was always on the table. All were always welcome. And a card game was never far away. She was the fiercest of competitors at the card table. A skill and focus that she passed to her daughter Karen, who is probably the best card player and partner anyone could ever have. Was often reminded by my grandmother that ``there are no friends in cards.'' But moments later, she would tell us, ``Oh no, it's just for fun. It's just a game.'' Mhm . . . whether it was 9-5, set back, poker, Yahtzee, Uno, duckpin, or Wii bowling. Nobody was going to stand in her way. My grandmother was a prolific cook but was truly an iconic baker. Pies: apple, blueberry, chocolate cream, banana cream, lemon meringue, pineapple squares, Irish soda bread, cinnamon tarts, red sauce (pretty good for an Irish woman), French fries, clam dip, brownies with the best frosting you will ever have, and so much more. She loved to host backyard picnics, Christmas Eve and morning celebrations, weekly card games with her group of best friends, going to Shady Glen for a strawberry milkshake, and sitting in her chair and reading the latest Janet Evanovich book. My grandmother's talent for hosting and making her home so warm for others lives on in her daughter Patty. People are always comfortable under her threshold. A tradition she proudly carries on every single day. Dee Dee was a die-hard fan of UConn basketball, the Boston Red Sox, the Green Bay packers, and horse racing. She loved Elvis, Barry White, Lou Rawls, the Price is Right and murder mysteries (whether in print or on TV). It was often a cause of great consternation when the holiday movies bogarted the regularly scheduled programming of Hallmark's murder mystery roster. She had so many interests and talents and loved to share them with all of us. In the past few days, I have been seeking some comfort and wisdom in processing the loss of a woman that all of us loved so much and loved you all in return. Two such examples have resonated with me, and I hope they can do the same for you. In Les Miserables, a musical adored by her daughter Linda and rooted in sacrifice, selflessness, and dignity (all traits that my grandmother embodied to a ``T''), the closing lines of the show encapsulate the simple, but pure divinity of living a life full of love. As the show comes to a close, the hero, Jean Valjean, is welcomed to heaven after a life of reformed selflessness and love. The bishop, who inspired the story's hero to live a new life devoted to others, shared a simple truth with Jean Valjean as he could finally rest: ``And remember the truth that was once spoken . . . to love another person is to see the face of God.'' This sentiment, based on the divinity of humanity and the power of love, is something I have felt loving my grandmother and something I hope she felt loving all of us here. Finally, in the Wizard of Oz, a film my grandmother loved (which may have something to do with the name of the leading lady), a love she also passed on to our entire family, the titular wizard also shares some wisdom about love and affection. As the Tin Man asks him for a heart, the Wizard says, ``Hearts can never be made practical until they can be made unbreakable.'' The Tin Man responds, ``But I still want one.'' After finally giving the Tin Man a garland-adorned, ticking, heart-shaped timepiece, the Wizard concludes by saying, ``And remember, my sentimental friend, that a heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others.'' If the Wizard is correct, then no one had a bigger heart than Dorothy Christiana. She was just so loved. Loved unconditionally by so many. The compassion she showed, often in her unique way, was the privilege of a lifetime. In closing, it's hard to fathom how much I'll miss my grandmother. The chats about basketball, politics, cooking, the family. All of it. It's equally difficult to put into words how much she loved all of the people here. But there is a silver lining. One week ago, a bus arrived. Except this one was not faulty this time. It was right on time. It took my grandmother on. It took her to a table where Lil, Clara, and Fawn were. Where Ernie & Beatty were already dealt on the table. A blueberry pie was in the oven. Elvis was playing on the radio. Ten duckpin bowling pins were reset. Her parents were waiting for their little girl with arms wide open. And her beloved Carman, smiling. Finally reunited. Showered with love. What a life well lived. I love you so much. ____________________