My sister Jo visiting with my cousin Jo inspired this memory..Bitter sweet memories of a time long gone ..but the best of times was when the house was full of aunts and uncles , brothers and sisters and cousins galore..all eagerly awaiting half time to begin the first course of an Italian American Sunday dinner..when we were young and the hope of our dreams had substance ...I can see my Pop ! Can of Budweiser in hand imploring me quietly . Bones , a blast from the past a code for a shot of Dewars, which fooled nobody ...Mom and Nona Josie busy in the kitchen , my sisters scurrying about the house with the neighbor kids and our multitude of cousins..Uncle Mike telling us the same stories about D-Day that we never tired of hearing..Aunt Nancy and Aunt Sally, Aunt Rose and Aunt Margie, Aunt Mary and Aunt Dottie..Uncle Bill an Ozark fish out of water..me and Ricky sneaking outside for a doobie ..Chuck in his room tinkering with something or another..I can still hear the sounds of the soffrito sizzling ..the garlic wafting through the house ..the anticipation of that first crust of italian bread w sauce or a meatball if you were lucky ..outside Our leaders were being shot..in the streets a whole segment of our society only two to three generations removed from slavery were rioting in the street..Americas youth were dying in another senseless war overseas ( gulf of Tonkin my ass ) ..doo wop was surrendering to Motown and the British Invasion. Rock and roll was going Californian with the span Francisco scene Jefferson Airplane and their ilk..to the conservatives of the day it seemed like life was going to hell in a hand basket , for me it was like everything I believed in was in doubt ,especially after they shot Bobby ..but once a week in an an 80 year old house in Bensonhurst we could come together ..break bread and least offer the illusion that things were going to be ok..for an afternoon and evening we could lay our concerns down , take a break from our psychosis , gather around dining room tables and mangiare ..not much of my youth do I care to hold on to, but Sunday dinner at mommas house will always occupy a splendid place in my heart
Posted on: Tue, 30 Sep 2014 17:02:28 +0000
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