His mother, Helen Travolta was a drama teacher, director, and former actress. She once toplined a group known as "The Sunshine Sisters" and back in 1931 set a long-distance mark for swimming the Hudson River. His father, Salvatore (that died of heart ailment on May 19, 1995, at age 82, just when Travolta was basking in the success of "Pulp Fiction" was an ex-semipro football player and co-owner (he and his brother) of the Travolta Tire Exchange which was a Firestone outlet in Westwood, New Jersey. "They really adored each other" he recalled "My father thought my mother was the living end, that she was the best actress, the best director, and had the best style, presence and personality of anyone he had known. They had a very hot relationship. Even after they'd been married twenty-seven year, you could walk into their bedroom in the morning- like I sometimes did as a kid- and there they'd be, nestled in each other's arms, their bodes totally locked together. They were really into each other."
Throughout his life, Travolta has remained close to his family. His childhood was a happy one, in which both of his parents made him feel secure and loved. His mother gave him unadulterated affection, while his father would pass hours together working on projects around the house. In fact, during a 1995 interview, he explained that the expensive cigar he was nursing reminded him of his father. He said that in his house, "Cigarettes made everything festive, my mother smoked and my sister smoked. So smoking meant show business and travel. My father smoked cigars his whole life. And cigar meant... safe. Dad was home. Security. Safety. And I can't smell cigar without thinking of the kind of secure feeling I'd get around Dad. Baseball games on Sunday. Just that ambience of him watching in the living room. Him reading the paper. He used to get every paper. The New York Times, The Daily News (a local Mew Jersey paper). They'd be all over the living room. His joy was the paper, the games and the cigars. Of course, he smoked loke White Owls, but it didn't matter. The smell to me was what counted."