In moments when you’re sad and blue
And loneliness is worn on you
When memories make you think a lot
Perhaps they’re best to be forgot
Bring good thoughts to your mind
And to yourself you will be kind
For the mind is deep and sometimes cruel
To think they sleep, you’d be a fool
Live your life as best you can
Knowing there’s a master plan
Learn to live for today
Leave bad dreams behind to stay
~ Gemini Joe ~
E
very Saturday when my mom was cleaning, she’d put the Italian Hour on with all the opera singers and sing along. The walls of our apartment weren’t very thick. After each song, the neighbors shouted, “Encore, encore, Signora!”
I recall when she couldn’t go to work at the textile factory any longer. I think it made her sad. Dad was the only one who knew she had cancer, but he kept it secret.
One of his friends was in trouble and couldn’t pay his bills. All he had was a luncheonette. Dad bought it for my mom, and we moved into the small two-bedroom apartment above the luncheonette.
The first thing I saw was the candy display and so did my brothers.
“Wow, all the candy we can eat,” Dom yelled.
“Don't even think about touching that candy,” Dad warned.
After he moved all the boxes in, he left for a meeting. We didn’t touch the candy!
On the first floor, there were six round stools lined up in front of the counter. Behind it, large pots sat on the stoves. Shelves of merchandise lined the walls with delicacies imported from Italy.
My mom must have worked long into the night because when I woke up in the morning, I ran downstairs to find everything clean and she was behind the counter.
I jumped up on one of the stools and twirled around and around. She winked at me and gave me a bowl of graham crackers, which she crushed in my milk. That was my cereal.
I felt bad for my Mom. I was a finicky eater and she tried everything to get food into me. Sometimes she camouflaged vegetables by hiding them in the mashed potatoes or chopping them up in the sauce, but I knew.
“Okay, Joey, take a bite, and I’ll tell you about Jack and the Bean Stalk.”
I put the cereal in my mouth and continued spinning.
“Swallow or I can’t finish,” she’d say, waiting for me to eat.
Mom was good. She told me about Peter Pan, Little Red Riding Hood, and Pinocchio and narrated so well that I soon forgot I was eating. I credit my mother for any storytelling talent I have today.
My mom was quite a lady. Her auburn hair it fell in front of her eyes as she cooked the tomato sauce in the big pots. She was in charge of the cooking and started with spaghetti and meatballs, and she always made sure lasagna was on the menu. She never refused a customer extra sauce or bread. All the people in the neighborhood loved her.
“How are we going to make any money if you keep giving food away?” my Dad said, but he laughed.
By the end of the day, her white apron was stained red with sauce. I felt proud of my mom.
My father was in charge of making the Italian ice. It was really going good, but there was only one flavor, lemon. He would set a big bucket of cut lemons on the table, and call my brothers and me to help him. At first, it was fun.
We were very competitive of course, and we boasted who would squeeze the most. Then, a funny thing happened. Our fingers began to sting. I guess it was because of the acid in the lemons.
“Why doesn’t Dolly have to help?” Victor complained.
“Because she’s a girl,” I told him. “She has to help Mom with the cooking.”
“I want to help Mom.”
“You can’t,” Dom said. “You have to help Dad.”
When arguments broke out, my mom stepped in and calmed everyone down. She was the only one who could keep my brothers’ tempers to a low boil.
When I think of my mom, I break up. My mom passed away even before my grandma. You only have one mother. I guess that’s what gets me. Maybe I’m being an old fool. I took out the album with pictures of my childhood. I came across a picture of my mom in a luncheonette outfit. She looked so beautiful.
My family was really something. I was not too important. I don’t know why, I just watched it all, but they loved me I’m sure.
