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My Back Pages: Memories- Part 2

My Back Pages: Memories- Part 2 : Memories -Part II Prelude I finished Part I with my thoughts on my Grandfather, Angelo Zaffino, and my loving relationship with him. It e...

Memories- Part 2

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Memories -Part II Prelude I finished Part I with my thoughts on my Grandfather, Angelo Zaffino, and my loving relationship with him. It ended with his death and wake. Part I left me emotionally drained. I never expected that delving into my memories and writing them down would have such an effect on me, but it did. This, I think, is not a bad thing. It has enabled me to face things that had such a profound impact on my life, the good and the bad.    I will pick this up with my Grandmother, Theresa Zaffino. My Grandfather will also come into play here again, simply because they were inseparable for so many years. They had a love and understanding of each other that every couple that has ever been together, strived so hard to have. Not all are so successful, they were. It was a special relationship. They were an exceptional couple, at least in my opinion; and I admit that my opinion is one sided  because I loved them both.  The years before I came to be ...

My Back Pages: Memories - Part I

My Back Pages: Memories - Part I : First Memories Me, Age 2 My earliest memory is of my Great Uncle Giuseppe dying. I was about three years old... maybe a little younger,...

Memories - Part I

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First Memories Me, Age 2 My earliest memory is of my Great Uncle Giuseppe dying. I was about three years old... maybe a little younger, and I remember my Aunt Anne saying that Zi Peppine had died. He was my Grandfather Angelo's brother. I remember everyone being very hushed, and the crying that came from Uncle Joe's house. Many memories from this time are hazy, but I remember being treated as something special by my aunts and uncles because I was my father's first born.  My father worked for General Motors in Tarrytown, NY at the time. He worked on the assembly line. We lived in my Grandmother's house on Everett Street at the time, and I remember waking up very early in the morning as my father showered and shaved and went about his morning business. I could smell the heady aroma of the coffee percolating in the pot downstairs, and the sound coming from the kitchen as my mother and grandmother prepared breakfast. I would sit in my grandfather's lap as...

Memories - Part I

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First Memories Me, Age 2 My earliest memory is of my Great Uncle Giuseppe dying. I was about three years old... maybe a little younger, and I remember my Aunt Anne saying that Zi Peppine had died. He was my Grandfather Angelo's brother. I remember everyone being very hushed, and the crying that came from Uncle Joe's house. Many memories from this time are hazy, but I remember being treated as something special by my aunts and uncles because I was my father's first born.  My father worked for General Motors in Tarrytown, NY at the time. He worked on the assembly line. We lived in my Grandmother's house on Everett Street at the time, and I remember waking up very early in the morning as my father showered and shaved and went about his morning business. I could smell the heady aroma of the coffee percolating in the pot downstairs, and the sound coming from the kitchen as my mother and grandmother prepared breakfast. I would sit in my grandfather's lap as...

My Back Pages: Thoughts On Father's Day

My Back Pages: Thoughts On Father's Day : Father's come in all shapes and sizes... short, tall, slim, heavy. They are Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist... all religions,...

Thoughts On Father's Day

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Father's come in all shapes and sizes... short, tall, slim, heavy. They are Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist... all religions, and no religion.They are Black, Brown, White... all of the colors in the human spectrum. There are good fathers, and bad fathers. I wish to salute the good fathers.  They dedicate their lives to working hard to provide for their families. Fathers, like mine, who work their whole lives to make life good for their families. They do all that they can to give their children what they need. Working long hours, many times into the night, many weekends lost to work. They spend almost every waking hour thinking of how they can improve the lives of their children, working unrelentingly as the best  years of their lives speed by. They work without complaint, without asking for recognition of what they do, because this is simply what they know that they must do.   It does not matter if these fathers were born here, or born somewhere els...