My brother, Mario, and I got into little escapades and caused our parents problems. We were ruffians in the neighborhood. [ed: Dad and Uncle Mario were 18 months apart in age]
As we grew up, we got into bigger escapades. We went down to the railroad and threw rocks at the crew who threw soft coal at us. And we would scoop the coal, go to a friend's cellar and light a fire. Of course, the coal let out gas and it would rise up into the apartments and the tenants would come after us and we would run out onto the street.
We played at a place called the Rockies which was at the end of our street. On one side there was an open center, about 100 feet and about 80 feet to a factory. In the center were rough stones that were intended for front stairs and other uses and were left behind by the developer of Frankfort St. On the same street across from the Rockies was the Daniel Webster School. The schoolyard fence which went up Frankfort St turned right and right onto Lubec Street. Facing us on the Rockies was the General Electric Company which went all the way to Cottage Street.
At that time Zia Angelina lived on Cottage St. and I played with my cousins, at least the younger ones, Joe and Alfred.
Later her children moved her to upper Chelsea St. and much later to Saratoga St. [ed: after her husband passed away] and finally to Revere. With each move, her children who were not living with her would also move close to her house.
In fact, Revere was her last move. She lived here a good while and at 92 she fell down the stairs and that did her in. She died shortly after her fall. [ed: According to her death certificate, Zia Angelina died in 1969 at the age of 87.]
This was a close family and what my cousins did when they decided that Revere and surrounding towns was their last move, they chipped in and bought a whole section of cemetery lots so that they would all be buried together.
Another thing we did at the Rockies was to have rallies. We would gather stones in bushels and go up to Orleans St at the front of the factory and down hill and throw rocks at the kids across the railroad tracks. Of course, they had to come over to us.And in some cases, someone would get it on the head and spill blood.
We also would play on the cobblestone streets.
It sounds like it was hard growing up in your Dad's neighborhood. I can only imagine the memories he invokes each time you read these diaries.
ReplyDeleteI think growing up during The Depression was tough on everyone.
DeleteApparently back in the day, it was a big thing to buy adjacent cemetery plots. My (paternal) grandparents bought my parents two plots for their anniversary one year....my mother was NOT amused. :-/
ReplyDeleteCouldn't find anything in the traditional gift list. First year, paper. second year, cotton...Nothing listed for dirt.
DeleteCJ; I'm sorry; I have to laugh as some things never change throughout the generations; regardless of where one lives ...this post reminds me of my childhood when we would push the kids from the public school off the side walk; we went to catholic school and everyone walked home....the public school kids going east and us west, and no one was about to walk in the grass....we cheered when we would see them running across the street to avoid a shoving match...my brother and his "friends" used to throw dirt clods at one another; whoever the "enemy of the day" happened to be; our street ran parallel with a farm field and dirt clods were to be had for the taking !! ♥♥♥
ReplyDeleteAnd people say there's a generation gap. (-;
DeleteThat would be horrible to die, from falling down the stairs!
ReplyDeleteI don't think I would want to get hit on the head with rocks! LOL!