Stories Served Served Around The Table
Around The Table
This story was told by my Uncle Joe, my mom’s eldest brother. Anthony, their father, died when my mom was just a little girl and Uncle Joe was 14 years old. As the years rolled forward, he became the keeper of their father’s stories. This is one of them. My father was a printer—a… Continue reading The Compositor
My mother’s grandmother was the matriarch of the family. Every detail of home life was dictated by her. Despite the strict force, the woman aimed to keep her charges well, safe and loved. My mother told this story many times. She was raised in a multi-generation home on West 9th Street in Brooklyn. … Continue reading A Day Begins
It was a cozy two-bedroom cottage on a dead-end street. It was my husband’s, Matt, grandparents’ house. In 1980, his grandmother, Oma, died quietly in her bed. Six months later, Opa passed away in the guest room of an old acquaintance in Florida. His body was shipped to New York and laid to rest next… Continue reading A Ghost Story
My school career began back in the autumn of 1963. The First Day of Kindergarten was going to be the first time I would leave the security of my home and family all by myself. I do not remember being anxious. Throughout the summer my parents, aunts, uncles and grandmother exclaimed that I was the… Continue reading First Day of Kindergarten
Many Italian-American families, like mine, christened first born sons the paternal grandfather's name. Second born sons were given the maternal grandfather's name, and the third sons wore their father's name. Daughters' names similarly honored the matriarchal line. Families were littered with Vitos, Paulos, Marias, and Christinas. It was a mystery, then, that my dad's father,… Continue reading Sweet William
Stories Served Served Around The Table 