Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

When the Boy was in his early teens, he asked Grandma (maternal grandma) if he could help her make her homemade macaroni. She gave him the task of dusting the pasta with flour to help them dry. She wasn't looking and he dumped the whole bag of flour on the macaroni. She got upset. I guess he spoiled the babysitting. When mother came home Grandma told her, "Marie, he's a niza boy, mut a somnabaitch.

[ed: The macaroni making and "somnabaitch" are two separate stories, but connected. Grandma had come to spend the week taking care of us while my mother went to work. It must have been a school vacation week. Yes, Grandma was upset when the Brother dumped the entire bag of flour (close to 5 lbs) on her macaroni. I guess he thought he'd try to speed up the pasta. She was upset because now she had to dust each individual little hat (cappalini or orichetti), and the flour couldn't be used so all that flour was wasted.  

 I was 7 or 8 years old making the Brother 13 or 14. I was in the kitchen with Grandma. It might have been when she was trying to teach me how to speak Italian and to count writing the numbers in Roman numerals Suddenly, there was a huge explosion. Ma had a cabinet over the counter filled with her stemware and some fancy dishes. All the dishes rattled. Grandma yanked the rosary beads she always kept in her pocket and began praying to every saint in heaven. The Brother had been in the garage lighting a can of hair spray to make a torch and the can blew up. Fortunately, he was not injured. 

When Ma got home Grandma told her she would never come to stay over to take care of us. She would come for visits, but would not stay alone with us. That's when she told Ma, "Marie, he's a niza boy, mut a somnabaitch." Grandma kept her word. Came to visit, but never stayed overnight ever again.]

When the Boy was a baby we were on our way home in Cambridge. On the bus, almost home when I felt my trousers get wet. Mother thought it was funny. Daddy didn't.

The Boy began to crawl and we got him a playpen. To keep him out of harm's way.

One Saturday, Mother went shopping, and I was babysitting and sitting by the playpen reading The Reader's Digest [ed: a yearly Christmas gift from Charlie] He was making sounds and in the area he was in I patted him on his head and went on with my reading without looking his way. I read a few more lines when it suddenly dawned on me that I had patted him across from me. I said to myself he was standing up.

I put my magazine down and gave him attention and encouraged him to stand up. He looked at me with smiles and making sounds. I don't know how old he was but earlier than most, to do what I thought he could. He grabbed the playpen fence and lifted himself up. He looked at me and began making his noises or talking with pride, baby talk, no words. Daddy got the message this time and I clapped and hugged him. I said Wait until your mother gets home. Is she going to ge a surprise!! He would sit down and I would wait and say "again. do it again." He oobliged.

Mother eventually came home and when she put her things down and took her coat off. I asked her if she would like to see something. She came over and at this time the Boy began playing with his toy. I got his attention  and said "Show Mama what you can do. Come on. He crawled to the fence and pulled himself up and his noises or baby talk translated to Hey, look at what I can do." Mother was in a mood of utter surprise, she saw but couldn't believe what she was seeing. She came to and not only was she proud she picked him up, kissed him, hugged him. And the she came down to earth and said, "Well, we will have to watch what is around and remove things he can reach!" 

It was a wonderful Saturday at home.