I Remember

Memories of God and Growing Up

The warmest of my early memories and the best of those memories were the coldest of days. Snow piled deep, I remember a time when the electric pole came down blocking the road, we didn’t have electric. Our oil heaters were gravity fed so we had heat. Refrigerated items went out and into the 4 foot of snow with a piece of plywood placed over top to protect it from critters.

I remember my mother in her broken English teaching me my bedtime prayers in Italian. I learned later that our dad did not want us to learn Italian. So, she was “sneaking” in the small bit of education, as it began Angelo de dio. (Angel of God)

My dad worked for Alan Wood Steel in Conshohocken as a truck driver. He ran dumpsters within the steel plant to the dump. A union member, we would go to the union Christmas Party on Ridge pike. I remember, my earliest memories of being all so upset when I got a stuffed gray dog from Santa. I was a boy and wanted a toy gun. How I cried.

I remember church, I remember first communion and confirmation. I remember failing 3^rd grade at Trooper school and being moved to Catholic school. I remember being poor when my father was “laid” up, the church, Visitation BVM provided boxed Turkey dinners with the trimmings. I remember being in the playground our parking lot playing when President Kennedy was assassinated.

I remember Christmas, a special time of the year as a “young un”. We would venture from our small 3-bedroom white stucco over cinder block house in Trooper to Shetone’s an Italian Deli in Norristown. We shopped for those Italian specialties as baccala, a dried fish, and Italian pastries. I remember my mother who was Italian would soak the baccala for three days leading up to Christmas. We shopped at the A&P in town where that special cowboy set with holster, gun and rifle was perched high atop the freezer case. There was another set also. Zorro’s set. With that special sword.

I remember Father McFadden; he was young and handsome. Father Schyler was old. We didn’t get up for church one time. He came to our home. I remember waking up in my third bunk of the triple bunks. There he was, Father Schyler, staring at me as I ever so slightly opened my dreary eyes. I stared as in a nightmare. We were scolded within that small twelve-foot by twelve-foot room. I, the oldest got it face to face as my brothers jumped.

I remember shopping for Christmas trees at the W.T. Grants shopping center. It was at the opposite end of the A&P. Out in the parking lot in front they would sell trees. My father would wait until late in the season and we would always get a nice tree for little money. Around the corner was a bar where on that rarest of occasions we stopped for Hamburgers. My dad had a beer with his.

I remember mass, holy water, and blessing ourselves with the sign of the cross. We would genuflect before finding our seats. We were very quiet with fear. Statues were everywhere. There was a man hanging on the cross with thorns on his head which brought fear to my being.

I remember sledding when we were older. We had great hills near our home on Sunneyside avenue. We lived two houses from Appledale and the hill which wound down to the left made the lower part of the road. The road was slick with snow where few cars with rounded fenders and big chromed bumpers would pass.

Across the street was a wood line of small sapling trees we played amongst, even in the winter. One Christmas I got a battery-operated missile system which shot at a ball which was blown upward on a small cushion of air. My first shot and I lost my first missile amongst the weeds and frozen water on the small stream.

I remember Catholic school and not being able to accomplish my homework and being paddled for that. Later when my parents came for a parent teacher meeting, they discovered I couldn’t see the black board. Catechism was taught where I remember being taught saints and Mary was the mother of Jesus.

I remember pies baking as Christmas was a huge time for my dad to bake. Pumpkin, coconut custard, and mince were the specialties. My father’s mince always had whatever liquor was available. Brandy was popular. He baked big pies about twelve of them and then the little pies for his black lunch box. He had it with his coffee from a thermos which rested securely in the lid.

I remember church, I remember family, I don’t remember Jesus. The same Jesus who says in Matthew 19:14:

But Jesus said, “Let the children alone, and do not hinder them from coming to Me; for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”
Matthew 19:14 (NASB)

We as parents and educators get so involved in doing routine that we often lose touch with who the routine is for. I was good at legalism. Doing the routine for the sake of being “religious”, but I had no idea who Christ was. I remembered Mary was his mother.

It wasn’t until my U.S. Army recruiter Sergeant First Class Frank Kennedy shared with me Jesus Christ that I learned about my savior. I sat in the front seat of his Government Rambler Ambassador. Returning home from “swearing in” I was carrying a New Testament handed out by the Gideons. “What’s this for?” was my question. Sergeant Kennedy suffered me not as he told me about my Savior, and I remember.