1952 - 1953

WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD

I was born in April 1947. I can't recall the first four years of my life; however, I started school September 1952. The school was PS #108. My teacher's name was Miss Ledger. I was in the first grade. I was five. This was a beautiful school and neighborhood. Everybody knew you and you knew everybody. East New York Brooklyn was a great place to grow up in. My parents were Italian and my whole neighborhood was about 70% Italian. The neighborhood had many Mafia guys living there too. There were certain rules that existed and if you ever got in trouble, you would rather have the police catch you instead of the "Caparegime" or "Capo" also known as the neighborhood Mafia Captain. I lived in a two family house with my aunt, uncle, and cousin. They lived on the first floor and I lived on the second floor with my mother, father, and two sisters. Every day after school, I would hurry home and change from my school clothes to my play clothes. My friends and I would play in the street - punchball, stickball, football, and triangle. We would have some great games. My father came home from work at 5:00 o'clock and it seemed like all my friends' fathers came home about the same time. I had supper at 5:30 and by 6:00 o'clock; I was out in the street again. At night time, we would play Hide-and-Seek, Ring-A-Levio, Three Steps from Germany, and Johnny-on-the-Pony or sometimes we would ride our bicycles. We got a thrill out of putting on the lights on our bikes and riding around the block.

All the homes on my block and neighborhood were two-family and all had a porch and from April to about the end of September, all the adults sat on the porch while all us kids played in the street. Fulton Street was two blocks from where I lived. It was a main street with all different stores. There was a candy store that my friends and I would go to and they sold penny candy. There was a variety of about fifteen different candies, which was good because we only had like a nickel in our pockets. Next to the candy store was a bar. There were always six or seven guys standing in front of the building. They were loud and always arguing, and they looked like real mean tough guys. On Saturdays, we would spend the day in Highland Park playing baseball. The park had two beautiful baseball diamonds. The field was too big for us, but we had fun playing on it anyway. We all knew that when we got older and bigger, we would play on this field. Baseball in Brooklyn, at that time was the only sport most followed. Just about everybody was a Brooklyn Dodgers fan and that was the only sport everyone talked about.

On Sunday, everybody went to church. Every Sunday, my mother made macaroni. We ate at 3:00 o' clock. At about 5:00 o' clock, my friends and I would go to Fulton Street to the ice cream parlor, which was next to the candy store. I would always get a chocolate egg cream. It was so good back then - life was pretty routine. It was a lower middle class neighborhood and seemed to be about equal for everyone - no family was rich and no family was poor. In those days, I don't think there was any such thing as a nursing home, because all the old people lived in the same house with one of their children. Not my mother or any of my friends' mothers worked. They were all housewives. My paternal grandparents lived downstairs from my Uncle George, Aunt Rose, Cousins Sarah Jane, George and Donna. All of my relatives lived only five blocks to a couple of miles from us. The old people were taken good care of and never were excluded from any party or gathering or holiday celebration.

I never got to know my maternal grandparents as they both passed away before I was born. I have seen pictures of them and my family says I look like my maternal grandfather, Pasquale. I don't think I do. My maternal grandmother's name was Josephine. I was named after my paternal grandfather. It is a custom in an Italian family that the children are named after their grandparents, so I was named George after my Father's father. I remember my father telling my mother he wanted to change my name to Pasquale because I was a happy-go-lucky kid and I was always laughing and carrying on and that was my Grandfather Pasquale. My father told my mother that his father was a "pickle puss". My mother told my father that my name could not be changed as I was already in first grade and had just learned how to write my name; therefore, I remained George. Our family was more fortunate than...