Dominick Ciampi
“Hey, you like opera?” Dominick Ciampi would ask me. “Did I ever tell you about the time I directed the Boston Opera?”
The 93-year-old Ciampi had told me the story before, but it was worth hearing again. There he was on a bus trip, directing an opera company in Boston with the light of a cigarette as a baton. The visual is still imprinted in my mind.
Dominick, the father of my close friend Nick Ciampi, died peacefully at his Redding home on Aug. 29. Several years ago, I started taking guitar lessons from Nick, an area songwriter and music teacher, and through that experience, I got to know his father. I so much enjoyed him.
Dominick’s health waned and then recovered several times in the eight years Nick cared for him. In the end, he was tired — probably very tired of pain — and he just let go. I helped Nick move dad into his bed a couple of nights before he died.
Regardless of his health, Dominick’s mind was always sharp and his inquisitive view on life never wavered. He watched “Jeopardy,” Giants baseball, “Wheel of Fortune,” and “The Simpsons” on TV.
“You’ve got to keep your mind active,” he would say. He did crossword puzzles until he couldn’t see the words well.
He could talk about any subject and he knew about so much about so many elements of life. Born in Cambridge, Mass., he retained that wonderful Boston-Italian accent. He had attended Harvard College, was a scout master, a chess player, a pianist and a typesetter. He moved to California in 1953, and eventually went to work for Garrett Press in San Francisco. He set type (and proofread) Rolling Stone Magazine from its first issue until the magazine moved to New York.
Dominick had great stories and delighted in telling them, but he also wanted to hear your stories. He didn’t mind just hearing about your day. He was genuinely interested.
He was an old-school guy, yet very sincere and open-minded. If I make it to my 90s, I hope my perspective holds up just like his.
At his funeral last week, I was impressed by the warmness of words shared by Father Michael Hebda of Our Lady of Mercy Catholic church, and Hospice Chaplain Leroy Perkins, who became choked up while speaking. They were saying “thank you” to someone who had left quite an impression on them. Everyone seemed to agree that Dominick felt very accepted and cared for in Redding, where he spent the last 17 years of his life.
Sitting next to my friend Erin Friedman, we observed a beautiful moment between the Ciampi children (he is survived by seven of them) and their families during the funeral. There were smiles and laughter, tears and hugs. I imagined that Dominick could see through my eyes at that lovely moment.
Yes, I do like opera. What a powerful human expression it is. When I see and hear it, I’ll always think of Dominick Ciampi.
