|L - R: Dad's youngest sister, his parents, youngest brother|
I remember that during the Summer season or the weather was warm, every Saturday my father and his friends would play card games. While my mother would be cutting Italian bread and Italian cold cuts all afternoon. My father at that time before the Depression was doing well and he shared.
We did not lack for thing within reason, plenty of food and company, clothes and entertainment.
At 4 years old, in 1923, I became eligible for kindergarten. But, it was not to my liking the school, Daniel Webster was just down to the end of the street and I would put up a fuss as I was taken by my mother and was left there. And I cried day after day. I was uncooperative until I was allowed to go home. Amy my mother would be upset. Both parents didn't know what to do about this. They tried. I enjoyed being with my mother and I liked to hear her sing as she did her housework or have neighbors next building open their windows and ask her to sing. She had a beautiful voice. And as young as I was I would just sit on the floor and hear her. An onlooker might conclude that I was entranced. All I know I felt nice hearing her. She would sing Italian love songs and songs of Summer and other seasons. Or she would be asked to sing a particular song by our neighbors. My kindergarten days were ended by the teacher who finally talked to my mother, that it would be best if I was withdrawn her opinion was that while I was eligible to attend, I was not ready for school. And she assured my mother that I needed a little more time to grow up. That next year I would be ok as I entered the first grade.
I continued to stay with my mother. At times I would play with a toy cart and run with it from one of the piazza [ed: porch] and slam it into the rear door to the yard which got to my mother as she would want me to stop. She put up with this antic.
As the days passed by in 1923 on certain occasions, she would have me to go meet my father at the street car stop of Boston elevator [ed: now Maverick Square Station on the MBTA Blue Line] Sh also would have me go to meet my father with an umbrella if it was raining and with instructions to wait in the doorway of the bakery.
When I saw my father step down he would spot me and I could see the happiness in him as he saw me. And we walked down to Frankfort St. to our home. I would be sent to meet my father on Spring, Summer and Fall and Winter if not too cold, snowing, etc. He would talk with me but he always kept his eyes straight ahead as we walked side by side.
At some point, I noticed that on a lot of times windows would go up and women would be going through the process of greeting each other. At the same time, as young as I was I noted they weren't looking at each other but at my father. He seemed aware of this. And it took me some time in the future to figure out why. He wasn't a bad looking guy. He was one inch short of 6 feet. He had a scar on his cheek where he got too close to the ironing board when his sister, Angelina was ironing and hit him with the iron. Anyway, he had the appearance of being a German officer who got the scar on purpose to show that he got it in a duel. Which was well known by the people who were European. Which caused the women to drool over men who were handsome.