Remembering Charles “Chip” Giamo

As a new Advocate, I thought, Well, there goes any hope of me being as good as that. I wasn’t naturally the sort of person who could invite myself into meetings, confidently call professionals I had never met, or strike up conversations with complete strangers. Yet those are exactly the skills that make an effective CASA Advocate – and they were the skills Chip had in spades.

Years later, when I became involved in teaching Bergen CASA’s pre-service training, Chip Giamo was my secret weapon. I deliberately scheduled him toward the end of the training classes because, by then, I had spent weeks teaching our new Advocates how to do the work “by the book.” Chip would share his practical wisdom which was often better than anything I had taught. He shared what worked. He would tell new Advocates that before meeting a DCP&P caseworker for the first time, they should know the case inside and out. Read every document. Come prepared with thoughtful questions. Show the caseworker from that very first meeting that you are there to be a valuable participant and that you would make their job easier—not harder.

Chip understood something that can’t be taught from a manual: the strongest advocacy is built on trust. He would tell new Advocates that every conversation with a caseworker should end with one simple question: “How can I help you?” Because Chip treated everyone with kindness and respect, people trusted him. They answered his calls. They returned his emails. They shared information. They worked alongside him because they knew he was there to make a difference for the child. As a result, the children he advocated for benefited in countless ways. Chip cared passionately about every case and combined his natural charm with tremendous wisdom, street smarts, and a deep understanding of the child welfare system. When Bergen CASA had an especially difficult case, we quietly hoped Chip would take it. We knew that if anyone could navigate the personalities, the bureaucracy, and the obstacles while never losing sight of the child, it was him. Judges recognized those same qualities. He was one of the few Advocates they would occasionally invite into chambers with the attorneys when a difficult case required thoughtful discussion. They respected his judgment, his strategic mind, and his remarkable understanding of human nature. Chip understood people, and because he understood people, he knew how to help them work together on behalf of a child.

Chip always managed to get a parking spot right outside our building, no matter who was on parking duty. He would stop by the office and bring us delicious cookies. Once he discovered which ones were my favorites, he’d quietly bring extra for me in a paper bag.  Sometimes, over a holiday weekend, if I was working late in the office, my phone would ring and Chip would simply say, “Go home.”

Family was everything to Chip. Relationships were everything to him. He never sought recognition and, in fact, he would be horrified that I’ve written this. He didn’t care about titles, accolades, or being the center of attention. What mattered to him were people—his beloved wife, his children and grandchildren, his friends, his Bergen CASA family, and the children he served.

Chip taught us that the heart of advocacy is showing up, earning trust, treating everyone with dignity, and never losing sight of the child. We were incredibly fortunate that he shared his precious time, his wisdom and his kindness with us. He impacted so many people. That is his legacy, and one that Bergen CASA will carry forward with unending gratitude.