John Joseph Astuno Denver, Colorado Obituary

John Joseph Astuno

<p>John was born to Rose and Rocco Astuno in Denver in 1925. His father, Rocco, came to America from Potenza, Italy, at age 15 in 1910, never learned to read or write, and was a bit of a legend in North Denver. John was the middle child and was predeceased by his sister, Helen, and his parents. He is survived by younger brother, Rocco, Jr. His wife, Ruth, of 65 years passed away in 2014 at the age of 89. He is survived by his two sons, John Jr. (Barb), and their children, Andrew, Allison Cain, and Mary, as well as his son, James (Joan), and their children, Adrianne Hott and James, Jr. He is also survived by six great grandchildren.</p> <p>Our Dad was the epitome of what Tom Brokow famously described as our &ldquo;greatest generation.&rdquo; When he was about four years old, Grandpa Rocco lost all of his money in the Great Depression and the family moved to California where Rocco could find work in a foundry. Then the family returned several years later and moved onto West 39th Avenue, between Bryant and Alcott Streets. Grandpa Rocco worked very hard and soon built various rental houses. Our Dad would go to school during the day and then come home to work construction for his dad, a demanding character to be sure.</p> <p>When Dad was of high school age, he wanted to attend Regis High School (instead of North High, where, it turns out, his two sons would eventually attend). The family could not afford such an extravagance as private school, so Dad got a job as a night watchman at the Union Pacific Railroad, and would bike, after school, to the train yards (then separating &ldquo;the north side&rdquo; from downtown) and worked evenings, returning very late only to go to school in the morning. Dad somehow worked a deal with his boss that he could do homework while on the job.</p> <p>At that time, Regis High School had a requirement that all students attend Mass daily, first thing in the morning. Dad, who with this crazy schedule, needed that extra hour or so of sleep, was able, in his own words, to &ldquo;pull a few strings&rdquo; so that he could be excused from attending Mass at school, and instead attend Mass at his local parish, St. Catherine&rsquo;s of Siena, on 41st and Federal. All went well with this plan, until one day he was called into the principal&rsquo;s office, who inquired of Dad &ldquo;How was Mass this morning?&rdquo; It got worse. Dad was then asked, &ldquo;Please describe what the priest looked like.&rdquo; Dad fumbled around, explaining that he was sitting &ldquo;kinda in the back and didn&rsquo;t necessarily have a good view.&rdquo; He then went on to say that the priest had brown hair and was &ldquo;probably a little on the tall side.&rdquo; The principal, who happened to be bald and short, then lowered the boom, telling Dad that he himself was the priest that morning and &ldquo;You are no longer a student here.&rdquo; Well, things somehow eventually got sorted out, Dad was able to return to school, barely. Before graduating from Regis, Dad volunteered to join the Marines at the age of 18. He was in the First Marine Division and saw combat in and throughout the Pacific and, on April 1, 1945, at about 3:00 am, he was a 19-year-old on a Higgins Boat in the first wave of one of the bloodiest and most significant battles of World War II, Okinawa. Somehow, Dad made it through that experience and, about four months later, while still on the Island of Okinawa, off the coast of Japan, the war was over. Dad, however, was not fortunate enough to come home just then. He was ordered by the Marines to spend an additional year in China. He was eventually &ldquo;promoted&rdquo; from Private to Private First Class.</p> <p>He returned home to Denver, and courtesy of the &ldquo;GI Bill,&rdquo; attended DU. While at DU, he met Mom at a dance in January 1949; they got engaged that Valentine&rsquo;s Day; and were married that June. Mom and Dad kept the receipt from the Brown Palace, the night of their honeymoon, it was for $11.00.</p> <p>Mom&rsquo;s family was highly educated, and it had to be a bit of a culture shock when her family met Dad&rsquo;s. Nina, our Mother&rsquo;s Mother, asked my Dad, &ldquo;From what college does your Father matriculate?&rdquo; Dad, as he loved to tell the story, replied &ldquo; Lady, my Dad can&rsquo;t even read or write.&rdquo; According to Dad, Nina said, &ldquo;Oh my, what a sense of humor you have.&rdquo; He ruefully responded, &ldquo;Wait until you meet him.&rdquo;</p> <p>Mom and Dad had a fabulous marriage of 65 years, and her passing 6 years ago was a terrific blow. He fought on and managed to love life, despite a huge hole in his heart.</p> <p>After graduation from college, Dad took a job with the Denver Public Schools, where, for the next 39 years, he had a remarkable career. The DPS at the time of his retirement in 1988 had a policy that you could accumulate 10 days of sick time per year. When he retired, he told us that he had accumulated 384 days, meaning that in a career of four decades, he had missed work 6 days. That is an amazing example of Dad&rsquo;s work ethic.</p> <p>Dad had a great ability to succeed and was so proud to be principal of East High School as well as Emily Griffith Opportunity School. He instilled in us the values of hard work, the love of learning, friendship, and humor.</p> <p>He also tried, but failed miserably, to instill in his two sons, frugality. Dad and Mom had an amazing capacity to hunt for bargains, save, and always park at a meter &ldquo;with a little time still left on it.&rdquo; Hilarious stories of their thrift will long be told by all of us.</p> <p>Of the 250 men in Dad&rsquo;s Marine Division, Dad was the last one left. A few years ago, I was at a party and overheard someone ask my Dad why he wanted to be a teacher. He said, &ldquo;after seeing all the death and sadness I experienced in World War II, I thought, if there was any hope for humanity, it would be with the young people. I thought that perhaps, if I could make a modest difference, it would be a good thing.&rdquo;</p> <p>Dad was a man of decency and grace until the end. We will miss him.</p> <p>Semper Fi.</p> <p>Due to COVID-19, a memorial service will be held this summer.</p>
December 28, 1925 - January 19, 202112/28/192501/19/2021
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John was born to Rose and Rocco Astuno in Denver in 1925. His father, Rocco, came to America from Potenza, Italy, at age 15 in 1910, never learned to read or write, and was a bit of a legend in North Denver. John was the middle child and was predeceased by his sister, Helen, and his parents. He is survived by younger brother, Rocco, Jr. His wife, Ruth, of 65 years passed away in 2014 at the age of 89. He is survived by his two sons, John Jr. (Barb), and their children, Andrew, Allison Cain, and Mary, as well as his son, James (Joan), and their children, Adrianne Hott and James, Jr. He is also survived by six great grandchildren.

Our Dad was the epitome of what Tom Brokow famously described as our “greatest generation.” When he was about four years old, Grandpa Rocco lost all of his money in the Great Depression and the family moved to California where Rocco could find work in a foundry. Then the family returned several years later and moved onto West 39th Avenue, between Bryant and Alcott Streets. Grandpa Rocco worked very hard and soon built various rental houses. Our Dad would go to school during the day and then come home to work construction for his dad, a demanding character to be sure.

When Dad was of high school age, he wanted to attend Regis High School (instead of North High, where, it turns out, his two sons would eventually attend). The family could not afford such an extravagance as private school, so Dad got a job as a night watchman at the Union Pacific Railroad, and would bike, after school, to the train yards (then separating “the north side” from downtown) and worked evenings, returning very late only to go to school in the morning. Dad somehow worked a deal with his boss that he could do homework while on the job.

At that time, Regis High School had a requirement that all students attend Mass daily, first thing in the morning. Dad, who with this crazy schedule, needed that extra hour or so of sleep, was able, in his own words, to “pull a few strings” so that he could be excused from attending Mass at school, and instead attend Mass at his local parish, St. Catherine’s of Siena, on 41st and Federal. All went well with this plan, until one day he was called into the principal’s office, who inquired of Dad “How was Mass this morning?” It got worse. Dad was then asked, “Please describe what the priest looked like.” Dad fumbled around, explaining that he was sitting “kinda in the back and didn’t necessarily have a good view.” He then went on to say that the priest had brown hair and was “probably a little on the tall side.” The principal, who happened to be bald and short, then lowered the boom, telling Dad that he himself was the priest that morning and “You are no longer a student here.” Well, things somehow eventually got sorted out, Dad was able to return to school, barely. Before graduating from Regis, Dad volunteered to join the Marines at the age of 18. He was in the First Marine Division and saw combat in and throughout the Pacific and, on April 1, 1945, at about 3:00 am, he was a 19-year-old on a Higgins Boat in the first wave of one of the bloodiest and most significant battles of World War II, Okinawa. Somehow, Dad made it through that experience and, about four months later, while still on the Island of Okinawa, off the coast of Japan, the war was over. Dad, however, was not fortunate enough to come home just then. He was ordered by the Marines to spend an additional year in China. He was eventually “promoted” from Private to Private First Class.

He returned home to Denver, and courtesy of the “GI Bill,” attended DU. While at DU, he met Mom at a dance in January 1949; they got engaged that Valentine’s Day; and were married that June. Mom and Dad kept the receipt from the Brown Palace, the night of their honeymoon, it was for $11.00.

Mom’s family was highly educated, and it had to be a bit of a culture shock when her family met Dad’s. Nina, our Mother’s Mother, asked my Dad, “From what college does your Father matriculate?” Dad, as he loved to tell the story, replied “ Lady, my Dad can’t even read or write.” According to Dad, Nina said, “Oh my, what a sense of humor you have.” He ruefully responded, “Wait until you meet him.”

Mom and Dad had a fabulous marriage of 65 years, and her passing 6 years ago was a terrific blow. He fought on and managed to love life, despite a huge hole in his heart.

After graduation from college, Dad took a job with the Denver Public Schools, where, for the next 39 years, he had a remarkable career. The DPS at the time of his retirement in 1988 had a policy that you could accumulate 10 days of sick time per year. When he retired, he told us that he had accumulated 384 days, meaning that in a career of four decades, he had missed work 6 days. That is an amazing example of Dad’s work ethic.

Dad had a great ability to succeed and was so proud to be principal of East High School as well as Emily Griffith Opportunity School. He instilled in us the values of hard work, the love of learning, friendship, and humor.

He also tried, but failed miserably, to instill in his two sons, frugality. Dad and Mom had an amazing capacity to hunt for bargains, save, and always park at a meter “with a little time still left on it.” Hilarious stories of their thrift will long be told by all of us.

Of the 250 men in Dad’s Marine Division, Dad was the last one left. A few years ago, I was at a party and overheard someone ask my Dad why he wanted to be a teacher. He said, “after seeing all the death and sadness I experienced in World War II, I thought, if there was any hope for humanity, it would be with the young people. I thought that perhaps, if I could make a modest difference, it would be a good thing.”

Dad was a man of decency and grace until the end. We will miss him.

Semper Fi.

Due to COVID-19, a memorial service will be held this summer.

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