Francis Malvaso Obituary

Passed away on September 14, 2025 at the age of 95.

Predeceased by his parents, John & Antionette; siblings, Carmen Rotuno, Mario, Jenny Uttaro, Tony, & Billy; first wife, Vivian.

He is survived by his wife, Margaret "Peggy"; children, Katherine Langdon & Ronald (Peggy) Malvaso; grandchildren, Tiffany King, Robert Smith, Jamie (Josh) Hoffman, & Stephen (Cassie) Malvaso; great-grandchild, Addison Hoffman; many nieces, nephews, cousins, extended family members, & friends.

As a Veteran, Frank served in the military, Active duty and reserves in many branches and capacities from 1950 to 1986 and actually was in the Army and Navy at the same time in 1951. He had the privilege and honor of shaking President John F. Kennedy’s hand after the Cuban Missile Crisis had ended.

Frank was a Master Mason, Etolian Lodge No. 479, Spencerport, NY. He was a retiree from Eastman Kodak, Co.

"God gave me a beautiful life and beautiful family. He saw over me through-out my entire life and protected my family. Forgive me, if I ever offended anyone. I tried hard not to, but no one is perfect. I thank God for wonderful family and friends throughout my long life."

Frank's Funeral Mass will be held 10:00 AM Wednesday, September 24, 2025 at St. Charles Borromeo, 3003 Dewey Avenue, Rochester, NY 14616. Per Frank's wishes there will be No prior calling hours.

In lieu of flowers, donations in Frank's memory may be made to MDA in memory of Vivian Malvaso.

Private Interment at Holy Sepulchre Cemetery.

Francis John Malvaso - A Life of Quiet Dedication

Frank was born Francis John Malvaso on September 14, 1930, to his parents Antoinette and John. Remarkably, he came into the world right on the kitchen table-a fact the family only learned when Frank was 80 years old.

Frank volunteered at Park Ridge now Unity hospital where he logged over 3500 hours. A memorable moment during his time there came when his son was recovering from neck fusion surgery. Frank made sure he was there first thing in the morning, wheelchair and flower in hand, ready to wheel his son out personally. While chatting, he remarked that he had never spent a night in the hospital himself. That led to the question, “Well, what about when you were born?” That’s when the kitchen table story came out.

Frank had a deep desire to work at Kodak when he was young. He showed up at their door every Monday morning for weeks, persistently trying to get hired. Finally, he told his mother, “This is the last time I’m going to try.” That day, he was hired as a pipefitter apprentice.

In 1951, shortly after starting at Kodak, Frank joined the Army and was stationed in Salzburg, Austria during the Korean War. In a twist of bureaucratic confusion, the government had mistakenly enlisted him in both the Navy and the Army. A year into his service, Frank decided to write to the Navy and explain the situation, asking for an honorable discharge. The discharge was mailed to his mother, who forwarded it to Frank. When he received it, he covered the word "Navy" with his thumb and jokingly told his Army buddies, “Look guys, I got discharged-I’m going home!” After a few shocked moments, he revealed the truth, and they all had a good laugh.

His brother Tony was also stationed in Salzburg at the same time. One night, Tony wanted to go out with a visiting friend from back home but didn’t have a pass. Frank, ever the rule-follower (usually), dressed in Tony’s fatigues, got into his bunk, and posed as him during night check. It worked-they never got caught. It was a rare moment of mischief for Frank, but it showed his heart.

While in Austria, Frank made a deal with the Army painter: one sandwich in exchange for a hand-painted Austrian landscape on his Army jacket. When Frank picked it up, he pointed out that “Salzburg” had been misspelled with two Z’s. They covered the mistake with his unit insignia-a bomb with a flame.

In 1954, Frank married Vivian DeCillis. Together they had two children, Kathrine and Ronald. After returning from active duty, Frank resumed work at Kodak, eventually retiring after more than 25 years. He continued to serve in the military reserves-one weekend a month, classes during the week, and two weeks of active duty each year. He proudly accumulated over 26 years of military service.

When his father John passed away in 1974, the only thing Frank wanted was the old leather razor strap his dad used on Frank was he was growing up and in trouble. It was a sentimental keepsake from a different era.

Frank didn’t have many hobbies in the traditional sense. His passion was work-any kind of work. He wasn’t a golfer, boater, or hunter. Instead, he found joy in staying busy, often stretching out projects just so he’d always have something to do. He was a master gardener, especially proud of his garlic. After Vivian passed away from ALS at just 56, Frank sold their home. However, he made sure to write into the real estate contract that he could return the following July to harvest the garlic he had planted the fall before. The realtor had never seen a clause like that-but Frank got his garlic.

Frank did have a secret desire to own a soda fountain. He worked at one as a teen and really wanted to own one. He even took a business course in anticipation of running a business. He used to tell his kids “I wanted to be a soda jerk, instead I just became a jerk”. He loved to make his grandkids Milkshakes, Sodas, Banana splits and Belgium waffles. He baked cakes and brownies.

Frank loved food and would eat just about anything you put in front of him. He would always remark how good things tasted even before tasting it. He was an avid Yankee fan and passed that down to his grandson.

Frank saved many things he received for good. He still wore his Army and Kodak work cloths to the end. He was a great teller of stories. Some not having been told until years later, like finagling the sewer workers to lower him down in the hole under the street at the age of 6.

Frank was a generous man, even offering some of that harvest to the new owners. In addition to his work at Park Ridge/Unity Hospital, he volunteered for the MDA and participated in the Jerry Lewis Telethon every year. He also ushered at church and gave his time to many other causes.

In 1996, Frank was introduced to Margaret by his cousin’s wife, Marsha. Marsha and Margaret were close friends, and Frank trusted her judgment. He met Margaret, they hit it off, and the two were married in August of 1997.

Starting in 1963, Frank took his family camping every year at Wellesley Island State Park-traditions they all cherished. In his later years, he and Margret also attended Army reunions around the country for years.

Frank was a devout Catholic and remained strong in his faith until the end. He loved his family deeply and would do anything for them. Though his heart ran on a pacemaker for the last eight years of his life, it never diminished his spirit. When asked how he was doing after receiving the pacemaker, he replied, “Great! I can mow the front lawn and back without stopping to rest.” Even when he was nearly blind, he kept mowing-missed spots and all.

At the time of his passing, Frank was 98% blind, had chronic heart failure, stage 3 kidney disease, and wore hearing aids. But he never, ever complained. When he had COVID and a 102-degree fever, he was taken to urgent care. The doctor walked in and asked, “How are you feeling, Frank?” Without hesitation, he answered, “Good, Doctor. How about you?”

Above all, Frank loved his family. As a father and husband, he dedicated himself to provide a life for his family that he never had growing up. Later in life, his focus shifted to perhaps his favorite role - a grandfather to many. There were few things he enjoyed more than storytelling, something he blessed his grandkids with throughout their entire lives. Sometimes it was about his odd jobs as a pre-teen at the bowling alley setting pins, and other times it was playing Duck on a Rock with the neighborhood kids to pass the time.

Over time though, that storytelling took a backseat, because he had an unstoppable curiosity for what his grandkids were up to in their lives. Following their progress through school, playing sports, playing instruments, and then transitioning to all of the adventures of adulthood. Frank couldn’t have been happier than when one of his grandkids shared even the smallest accomplishment with him, because he was their biggest cheerleader. The twinkle in his eyes he would get whenever Frank heard one of their voices was enough to light up any room he was in, and it was unmistakable.

Even though he grew up without much, and made a habit of saving things “for good,” when it came to himself, his loyalty and generosity meant that he shared everything he could with his grandkids. Whether it was refinishing abandoned antique sleds as Christmas gifts, or it was the last piece of pie - to make sure that we all had “a little each of both” - Frank’s adornment of his grandchildren overflowed until his last day, and will endure in their memories forever.

There are plenty words that can be used to describe Frank-tough, kind, humble, witty, loyal, generous - but above all else, he was selfless. A great man, always in service of others.

Frank passed on his 95th Birthday. Not many can say they were born and passed on the same day. Seems as though he was waiting for his birthday to go. He was the last of his siblings and close friends Lee and Marty Passion, Florence and Joe Giovino, Pat and Jeanie Slade. They’re all back together again.

Frank was the epidemy of the greatest generation.

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