GROWING UP IN THE CITY - PART I

We called the place where we lived the city. You might see in your mind high rises, traffic and businesses. We were not that close to those things. Our house was the typical two family brick approximately 10 city blocks south of the business district. Both my paternal grandfather and maternal grandfather settled here after following there relatives here from Italy looking for jobs. My paternal grandfather was a businessman, always owned a grocery store. My maternal grandfather worked in steal mills. My parents met probably in the same neighborhood where I grew up. I would not trade this life growing up for anything. Some people say living in the country on a farm is the best life, ours was just as good.

When I think back I find it unbelievable that our neighbors were able to grow fruit trees in their backyards. Just sort of growing wild with no regard to netting them or fertilizing. There was a plum tree in my grandmother's sisters yard, a peach tree in my aunts yard and a pear tree in my best friends yard. And as no surprise a grape vine in almost every back yard. I remember the grapes were so bitter with just a hint of sweetness inside the skin. So we would pop them in our mouths and spit out the insides, suck on the skin and then spit that out. The little curly green strands that grew along side of the grapes were salty and we would pull them off the vine and suck on them. One of our neighbors had a small business behind their house. The first floor as you walked in was a big old fashion kitchen and if you walked through the kitchen you would find yourself in a bakery, well I say bakery but all they made was bread and pizza. Huge wood burning pizza ovens. This is where we got our fresh bread from everyday. We didn't know what sliced white bread until we ventured to a friends house, who was not Italian, and was offered lunch. That's when we were first served sliced white bread sandwiches.

Around the corner from our house was a converted garage where an elderly man sold fresh fruits and vegetables everyday in the summer. He would drive is beat up pick up truck to a local farm and bring the fresh produce in every day. Huge bushel baskets full of fresh produce. I can still smell the fragrance, the old garage smell mixed with the fresh produce. There was a corner store on every corner and you could get a fudgesicle for a nickle. We walked to our elementary school everyday and came home for lunch.

When my brother and I were out of school and working we helped my parents buy a small cape cod style house just outside the city. Until that point my parents had rented an apartment from my aunt who owned a two family. My aunts son was getting married and she asked my parents to leave so her son could have the apartment. It was a blessing in disguise. They were so happy with their new place. My brother and I lived there with them for a quite a while before he got his own place and I got married.

My daughter got to experience a little of this as a baby but nothing she will ever remember. My husband and I bought one of those two family brick houses and converted it into a one family with a small apartment on the first floor, rear of the house when we first got married. We have lots of memories of all the people we rented this little space too. Mostly students going to the local community college and at one time a guy who my husband worked for who had temporarily separated from his wife. We had our daughter there and lived there until she was four. I walked with her in her carriage down those streets, past the elementary school, even shopped in the garage for produce before the old man died. The fudgesicles weren't a nickle but you could still get them. The bakery was gone.