Rick DiLiberto was honored by the Delaware Christopher Columbus Monument Committee as its 2017 Man of the Year, in recognition of his service to our community.The award was presented at the Columbus Monuments annual banquet on Oct. 7  at Cavaliers Country Club in Newark.

DiLiberto is a partner at Young Conaway Stargatt &: Taylor, chairman of the Delaware Commission on Italian Heritage and Culture, a past president of the Delaware Trial Lawyers Association, member of the Governor’s Magistrate Screening Commit treasurer of the Delaware Law Related Education Center, secretary of the Board of Directors ofMMI Preparatory School, Freeland, Pennsylvania, and a former Delaware State Representative (1992-2002)

Source: Italian American Herald, November 2017

REMARKS BY RICHARD A. DILIBERTO, JR., ESQ.

We all have defining moments from our early years. When I was about 10 years old, I remember my father coming home each day, exhausted from his police officer’s shift in Hazleton, PA and then doing a second job; working as a private contractor, doing cement work, asphalt work, carpentry, cleaning services, and whatever people called “headache jobs” they didn’t want to deal with themselves. I’ll always remember his large, strong, bronzed hands, hardened from years in the sun swinging a pick or digging with a shovel, but how they were so surprisingly gentle when he would hold our hands or stroke our faces.

We had an Acme Super-Market near our home, and down the street, a few blocks away, a senior citizen high rise apartment building. After the senior citizens would shop at Acme, they would slowly wheel the grocery carts, filled with their grocery bags, to the high rise apartments, then leave the carts in a jumble in front of the building. It wasn’t long before the Acme Market manager had a problem—a dire shortage of grocery carts– which became a “headache job” perfect for my father.

My dad made a deal with the Acme manager that he would stack the carts in the back of his bright gold pickup truck, and return them to the Acme, in return for 50 cents a cart. I remember those carts would fit one-into-the-other and my dad could nest 20 carts, 10 on the left and 10 on the right of his pickup truck each trip, at a tidy profit of $10.00 per truckload. He would take me along to help, and give me half the profits, or $5.00. One sunny Saturday afternoon, we were taking those 20 carts back to the Acme, driving directly past the baseball field where all my friends were playing a game. Now, I suspect none of you have ever been in a pickup truck carrying 20 shaking, rattling and rolling steel grocery carts up a potholed street, but it is not a quiet journey. As my dad and I clattered along in the truck, my friends abruptly stopped the game, all looked up simultaneously, and in unison pointed stiff-armed at me in the passenger’s seat and laughed uproariously. I remember putting my hand over my face to hide my identity, but they all knew it was me in my dad’s bright gold pickup truck.

After we passed the field, my dad looked over, gently stroked my face, with that work-worn hand, and said quietly: “Are you ashamed of your daddy, Ricky?” “No, I’m not ashamed, dad,” I fibbed. “Don’t you ever be ashamed if you are working your hardest and earning an honest dollar,” my dad replied.

Man of Year Award – 2017 – Remarks