I am writing about my dad, Anthony L. Monteleone Sr.

Although this is a story about what I never knew, I’d like to begin by talking about what I know about my dad. I know that whenever I needed him, he was there for me..

I knew he would be there when I was growing up to catch a football with me in the front yard or shoot hoops out back under the street lights. I knew when my cousin Frank kicked off in our football games for Highlands High School in the 1970s, with me lined up in the middle beside him, that my dad (and Frank’s father) would be in the same section every game, ready to yell “Good tackle, 51!” or “Nice hit, 65!”

I knew he would take us to church every Sunday (same pew) and then to both grandparents’ homes for spaghetti. I knew he demanded respect (thankfully) and that I’d better be home when the street lights came on. I knew to set goals and that I could watch “Monday Night Football” with him — but only until halftime highlights, because it was a school night.

I knew he would be at every game, track meet, school program and activity I was in to support me all the way through to my graduation from the University of Pittsburgh Dental School.

As I grew older, I came to realize that as important as the things I knew about him were, the things I had never been aware of when young were of equal importance.

What I never knew growing up was that while teaching and coaching during the day, my dad went to night school to attain his master’s degree in education at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. He would drive an hour to Indiana, Pa., from Natrona Heights to go to class at night.

I never knew that he later decided to attend night school again, this time to achieve his goal of obtaining a Ph.D. in administrative education from the University of Pittsburgh by age 40. I never knew that the typewriter tapping I heard from my bedroom until late at night (later than I should have been awake) was him grinding out his two-volume doctoral dissertation, titled “The Role of The Assistant Principal in Pennsylvania High Schools Today.”

I never knew when in high school that my mother had cancer, because he (and she) did not want to ruin my senior year by making her illness the focus.

I never knew these things because, during all this hard work and sacrifice, which enabled him to become a popular and respected principal at numerous schools in the region, he still made it a point to attend everything I was involved in. He never let me know how tough it must have been to do all this while raising three children, because he believed that this is what a man does … this is what a father does.

I know that last Dec. 23 he was diagnosed with lung cancer and that he has just undergone his final radiation treatment. I know it has taken its toll on him in several ways, but not because he told me. He has never complained — not once.

He simply said, “This is what I have to go through, what I have to do.”

I know that I am thankful to God every day I wake up that he is still here (as is my mother, who is a two-time cancer survivor) and that he is my father. The tumor has shrunk, and the prognosis seems to be favorable.

I know having a good father is a blessing from God because you cannot pick him. I am proud to be his son, as I am the man I am today because of him.

He jokes with me about having obtained my doctorate the easy way, but it is true. Compared to what he had to do, it was easy. I joke with him about how much he learned as I got older. He was always right; it just took me too long to figure it out.

I know I love and respect him more than any man on Earth and that if I live to be 150, I could not express my gratitude sufficiently for the lessons he has taught me over the years. But then again, I do not have to. He expects no thanks.

As I said earlier, he believes this is what a man does — this is what a father does for his son. Now I know, and I appreciate him for everything he is and everything that he has ever done and continues to do for our family.

Anthony L. Monteleone Jr. of Mt. Lebanon, a dentist and stand-up comic, can be reached at tonymonteleone@comcast.net.

The PG Portfolio publishes reader essays related to Western Pennsylvania twice a week. Send your writing to page2@post-gazette.com; or by mail to Portfolio, Post-Gazette, 34 Blvd. of the Allies, Pittsburgh PA 15222. Portfolio editor Gary Rotstein may be reached at 412-263-1255.

First Published: June 24, 2015, 4:00 a.m.