Immediately after our engagement, and with full approval from both our families, the date for our wedding was set for September 4, 1937. Needless to say, our minds were filled with the many tasks which were yet to be taken care of before the big day. We proceeded to execute the necessary plans and details during the time that still remained without too much difficulty. Of course, both our families were ready to pitch in whenever and wherever needed.

Although the wedding expenses were to be borne by Dad as was agreed, my mother nevertheless wanted to do something for us to lighten our load financially. Accordingly, she agreed to buy our living room curtains and drapes, bedspread, and a generous supply of towels and bed linen. It was greatly appreciated by both of us, and was put to good use immediately.

My brother Julie bought my wedding gown and accessories. On this score, it was my sister Rose who spent hours with me to help me select my “dream” gown. It was made of off-white satin, and had a long train attached to it. It was just beautiful. Julie also agreed to sing at my nuptial mass. Among the selections that we chose for him to sing was Schubert’s Ave Maria. We were all moved by the beauty of his voice, and it was remembered for many years by all who attended.

My brother Tony furnished our kitchen with a lovely maple kitchen table with four matching chairs. It was just the right size for our kitchen.

Our big gift form Grandpa and Josie, besides a monetary gift, was a complete four piece mahogany bedroom set. It was gorgeous. I could not help compare the size and accommodation of this spacious bedroom in our new apartment with the tiny bedroom and its small inadequate dresser which Rose and I shared at home. This all seemed like living in luxury as far as I was concerned.

Now the only thing left for us to buy was a living room set. Fortunately that was taken care of a month before our wedding. We were lucky enough to find an ad in the classified section advertising a ten piece living room set priced at $110. It was a steal and in excellent condition. The lady we bought it from was in dire need to sell in a hurry, as she had already purchased a new ultra-modern living room suite that was scheduled for immediate delivery. We were more than happy to take the used set off her hands, and so satisfaction was felt and appreciated by both of us. The wood trim on the chairs was rather ornate, but the furniture was solidly made, and it took care of our needs for many years, despite the hard use our kids administered to each and every chair!

Since Dad and I both wanted to have a full group of attendants to witness our wedding, we agreed to have four ushers and four bridesmaids in addition to our Best Man and Maid of Honor. After the selections were made, sufficient notice was properly given to each involved, and all gladly accepted.

Our attendants were:

Maid of Honor: Rose (my sister)

Best Man: Frank (Dad’s brother)

Bridesmaids: Mary Vecchio (my niece), Mae Connors (Frank’s fiancee), Gertrude Pearsall and Lillian Rainey (my friends)

Ushers: Frank and Louis (my brothers), Jack Kelly and Jimmy Kiernan (Dad’s friends)

In addition to the plans for the wedding itself, it was important for us to find an apartment. There were some questions which needed answering. Where should we locate? What size apartment should it be? How much rent can we afford to pay? These were questions that had to be carefully considered before making any rash decisions.

After much discussion, Dad and I finally decided we would prefer to live near both our families. This pleased me very much, as I felt the need to be as close to my family as possible. Living within a two mile radius of one another was ideal for all of us.

Fortunately, after scouring the newspapers, we succeeded in finding the apartment we were looking for. We located a newly decorated, upper floor, three room and bath apartment at 25 Aberdeen Street in Malverne, for $40 per month. The apartment was adjacent to Malverne High School, where I had formerly attended. The location was ideal, as it was within walking distance of church, stores, railroad station, doctors and professionals. The neighborhood was very nice; all the houses were well taken care of, and lawns were well manicured. The owner of the house was a widow, Mrs. Madeline Warreng. In the three years that we lived there, we developed a very close relationship, and remained good friends until her death.

Our apartment consisted of a large living room, a large bedroom, a bright kitchen, and a full tile bathroom. Imagine having a bathroom for just two of us, compared with one bathroom which the eleven of us shared at home in Lakeview!! Quite a big improvement for me. In addition, our apartment had hot water all the time. At home in Lakeview, we heated water as needed on top of the stove for such things as washing dishes, shaving, etc. We only lit the gas water heater for baths or some special reason. I was beginning to see a whole new world of space and comfort.

Our wedding was almost at hand, and we were kept busy with the details involved with the reception following the wedding. Marrying off a daughter can be very costly for those parents who have the financial means to supply a lavish reception. Such was not the case as far as our wedding was concerned, as we planned it on a minimal budget.

In addition to our large families, Dad and I had lots of friends. As we prepared our guest list, the roster seemed to grow and grow. Among those included, besides family, were my former schoolmates, members of the Legion of Mary, the church choir, the Malverne Fire Department, and both baseball teams (the Lakeview Ramblers and the Malverne Club). In addition, Dad and his brother Joe had developed a close relationship with the mayor of Malverne, Bill Gaddis, and his son Bill Jr. Both Bills were active members of the Malverne Club, as were Dad and Joe. In order to accommodate everybody and avoid slighting anybody, we planned what was identified as a “football” wedding – a far cry from today’s standards.

The refreshments we chose consisted of an endless number of ham and cheese sandwiches served on rolls, plenty of beer on tap, Italian cordials (liqueurs), a large tray of Italian cookies, and of course, a beautifully decorated wedding cake.

My oldest brother Charlie agreed to purchase the huge quantities of ham and cheese that would be needed to make the sandwiches. He had a friend in New York City who had a butcher shop near where he and his wife lived. The cost of the entire bill was remarkably low. Charlie also offered to buy the necessary alcohol and flavorings to make the cordials. As agreed, Dad reimbursed him for the cost of all the items.

We hired a five piece band to play for us on the evening of the reception. It was led by Maurice Pearsall, the brother of one of my wedding attendants. The cost was $50 for the entire evening, for as long as we wanted them.

The social hall we chose for our reception was brand new – the American Legion Hall on Franklin Avenue and Legion Place in Malverne. The rental cost was $25 for the evening (with no restriction on closing time), plus a $10 fee for janitorial services. We put a quick $10 deposit on it, in order to seal the bargain!!

In reviewing the arrangements we had just finalized, we were very pleased with the economical package we put together. The extra bonus was that everybody could attend, and no one would be slighted.

The day before the wedding was to take place, the hall was ornately decorated, the tables were conveniently set up, chairs in place, everything was in readiness.

On the eve of our wedding, all of us who were to participate went to the church for the customary rehearsal. As soon as rehearsal was over, we proceeded back to my house to join the rest of the family, who already had their sleeves rolled up and were busily stuffing the fresh rolls with generous slices of ham and cheese. There was no doubt in our minds that this wedding was definitely a family affair.

The morning of September 4, 1937 was finally at hand. Our nuptial mass was scheduled to begin at 11 AM at Our Lady of Lourdes Roman Catholic Church in Malverne. Father Lynch (the pastor) was delegated to marry us. Very early in the morning, by arrangement with my hairdresser, my sister Rose and I had our hair beautifully styled and set for the big occasion. We returned home in plenty of time to begin to dress, and to get into our gowns. Some of our attendants dressed at their homes, but those who lived out of town dressed at our house (all of this with one bathroom at our disposal!!!). We were to be dressed and ready to leave by 10:30 AM.

For some weeks before the wedding was to take place, there was much concern and discussion among those of us in the family as to the advisability of my father escorting me down the aisle as is traditionally done. All of us had noticed, as the time for the wedding neared, that my father was showing more evidence of withdrawal, with little desire to be tied down to any set formality. He did express his approval and enthusiasm for Dad and me, concerning the event that would soon take place, yet he preferred not to be in the limelight – center stage, so to speak. Instead, his preference was to be a proud spectator on the sidelines.

For this reason, it was agreed by all of us that my oldest brother Charlie would be the one who would fulfill my father’s obligation. He would and did play the dual role of loving father and oldest brother. This was the perfect solution to avoid any unwanted emotional stress or anxiety.

The hour had arrived. We were dressed and ready to enter the special cars lined up outside in front of our house, which would take us to the church. The day was sunny, and very hot.

As we, the bridal party, arrived at church, we assembled in the vestibule in proper order, ready to open the ceremony that was about to begin. Meanwhile, my father and family members and Dad’s family were properly escorted to their designated seats. The seating for all the arriving guests proceeded without flaws. After the guests were all seated, as tradition dictates, my mother was the last to be escorted down the aisle, next to my father who was already seated in the front row. This was the signal that the nuptial mass was ready to begin.

As the organ softly played the traditional wedding march, our wedding party walked deliberately and carefully, in step with the rhythms that accompanied us in our walk. My brother, in his special assigned role, carefully held my arm as we walked down the aisle together, and I cautiously held on to my beautiful bridal bouquet of fragrant white gardenias. The church was filled with sweet odors coming from the many floral arrangements. As I looked ahead toward the altar, I saw Dad anxiously standing with his brother Frank, waiting for his bride to join him.. With the traditional kiss, my brother gently led me to Dad. At that moment, our anxieties had vanished. Smiles of happiness were in full view to each of us and to all who were watching us. Our life together was about ready to begin.

The mass was beautiful, and the entire wedding party added much color and beauty to the entire ceremony. I spoke earlier of the beautiful music which my brother Julie agreed to sing at our wedding. His voice was so clear and so beautiful, and all of us who heard him that day agreed that his singing made the mass very special – particularly his rendition of Schubert’s Ave Maria.

But good humor always seems to fit into many varied occasions, including weddings. By mutual agreement among all the members of the Malverne Fire Department, they had plotted to pull a false fire alarm during our nuptial mass. As Dad and I solemnly knelt at the altar, we suddenly heard the loud siren going off. We immediately looked at each other in astonishment. He smiled at me, evidently sensing that this was one fire he was not about to go to. But truthfully, I was a bit shaken, being caught “off guard”, so to speak. In a joking but audible command, I said to him, “Don’t you dare leave!!” At this point we both grinned at each other and grasped our hands tightly together, which was our reassurance that we were definitely staying to get married. We could not and did not turn around to view our friends and family seated in the pews, but we could feel and almost hear their quiet chuckles as they witnessed the big joke the volunteer firemen had just executed, It was talked about and remembered by all of us for a long time.

With the completion of the mass and the beginning of the musical strains of the recessional, our wedding party proceeded to go up the aisle to the vestibule in back of the church. There we greeted all our guests, and sometime later proceeded to get into our cars to get the wedding photos taken at the photographer’s studio.

It seemed to be getting hotter and hotter as the day wore on, but we took it all in good stride. On arrival, we all got out of our respective cars and started walking toward the photographer’s studio. But true to form, my brother Frank was up to one of his unpredictable tricks again. Without any warning, Frank grabbed both Dad and me, one in each arm, and ushered us into the butcher shop next to the studio. Just picture, if you can, me carefully holding my train and my floral bouquet, and Dad trying to figure out Frank’s plan. We were firmly ushered into the shop, which was filled with the usual Saturday customers. By this time, our wedding attendants had followed us inside, and the customers were as confused as we were. After our grand entrance, Frank blurted out loudly, “It’s too hot outside. The bride and groom both need to cool off.” Frank continued his hold on Dad and me and led us to the large meat cooler, brushing aside the butchers who were busy cutting meat on their wooden blocks!! Needless to say, there were howls of laughter from everybody witnessing this farce. While the laughter was escalating, Frank gently led us inside the cooler and shut the door. There we were, the two of us, surrounded by hind quarters of beef, pork, long links of sausage, etc. It was hardly a nuptial setting, but in truth, the lower temperature felt great. After two minutes in the deep freeze, we were released from captivity. As we all left the butcher shop, we heard rounds of applause from the customers. They enjoyed it all, and so did we.

We soon composed ourselves, and proceeded in earnest to the photographers next door to get our pictures taken. The photographer sensed that this wedding party would be a bit unpredictable, and might perhaps pose a few problems. But we soon calmed down and cooperated fully with the man in charge.

Immediately following the photo session, we all proceed to Niederstein’s in Rockville Centre, where a wedding breakfast was awaiting us. The breakfast was just for the wedding party and our parents. The tables were beautifully decorated, the breakfast was nicely served, the musical background was softly played and in good taste, and generally the atmosphere was perfect.

Following the breakfast we all left to go back to my house in Lakeview. By that time it was mid-afternoon. Our house was already filled with our family members as well as some out-of-town guests. They were all busy reviewing the day’s events that had taken place thus far. Lots of coffee and cake was available for everyone to enjoy. There was music playing on the radio which added to all the conversation going on.. Everybody was keyed up and looking forward to the big reception yet ahead.

By 7 PM we all left in the designated cars and proceeded to the reception. As we had done for the church ceremony, our wedding party lined up in proper order, ready to make our entrance into the hall, which was already filled with guests. As soon as we filed through the doors, the band played “Here Comes the Bride”, and immediately there was a big ovation set in motion – applause, whistles, cheers, etc. The festivities had just begun.

Our wedding party began to proceed to our special table where we were to be seated for the evening. It was a slow process, as we were greeted, hugged, kissed and admired along the way by everyone. The hall was full of excitement, happy guests, good food, good music, and lots of camaraderie.

The band provided all of us with a full evening of good lively music and lots of fun. It did not take long for the floor to be full of dancing couples. There were lots of fast feet and a variety of rhythms in motion. As the evening progressed and the music continued, I was suddenly handed the baton by the band leader Maurice, so that I could continue leading the musicians!! With full confidence in myself, I accepted the honor presented to me, and played the role of musical director. I used very exaggerated arm movements to impress my musicians with my musical abilities (minimal as they were), and proudly swung the baton in every direction imaginable. It was funny to watch, as I was told by everybody who saw me swinging my arms non-stop, in my long bridal gown, train and all!! Weddings like this don’t happen every day.

As the evening continued in full tempo, Dad and I realized that everyone was having a wonderful time, including the Mayor. We felt grateful to know that our efforts and plans for this happy occasion had worked out so well. Dad and I, meanwhile, made it a point to go to each table to personally thank each guest for coming to our wedding reception and for sharing this special occasion with us.

The time came for the cutting of the wedding cake, and according to tradition, we served each other the first piece, after which the guests were properly served. The music and dancing continued, as the hours passed by. Before leaving the hall, my bridal bouquet had to bee tossed to some eligible young lady who was still a candidate for marriage. My flowers were caught by my bridesmaid, Lillian Rainey. However, the flowers were not very instrumental in her getting married right away; as it turned out, she married five years after our wedding.

Dad and I finally left the reception hall around 11:30 en route to my house in Lakeview, where our bags were already packed and ready to go with us on our honeymoon. Dad and I were upstairs getting dressed and ready to leave. Meanwhile the rest of my family left the reception hall and slowly began to return home. Needless to say, with all of us together again, Dad and I were delayed from leaving for another hour, as there were just so many things to talk about and to share with all of them. It was, in essence, a replay of our wedding in its entirety.

At last it was time for us to take off. Just as we all had imagined would happen, it was a send-off of mixed emotions. My mother and my sister Rose were having a hard time trying to hold back tears as they watched Dad and I getting closer to the door, ready to leave. But somehow they managed to recover their composure, smiled broadly, hugged us both, and wished us well. The rest of our family followed suit with a litany of good wishes that almost sounded like a chorus in unison. But the final farewell which my father gave us has always been remembered and never forgotten. True to his role as a loving father, he approached Dad and said to him as he shook his hand, “Take care of our daughter. She has always been close to us. And now that you are her husband, we have made space for you too. You are now part of our family. Welcome and good luck.” What a beautiful message. I held up stoically without tears, but I was filled with so much love and admiration for this wonderful man, my father. Dad and I both grabbed our bags and left, as we waved goodbye.

Our car was in the driveway, ready for our getaway. But now a problem arose – where we going to spend our first night together, and where would we spend our honeymoon? Ironically, neither one of us had given this any prior thought or consideration. And to make matters worse, how foolish could one be, considering that this was the Labor Day weekend!!

As we backed out of the driveway, it was almost 1 AM, and at that point Dad immediately headed for New York City. He decided on trying for a hotel in Brooklyn, since he was very familiar with that area, having lived there for many years as a boy and a young man. Lucky for us, we pulled up to the Hotel Granada at about 2 AM, and were able to get a room despite the holiday. The first dilemma in our married life had been solved satisfactorily.

Before leaving the hotel the next day (almost like obedient children!) we sent telegrams to my mother and father, as well as Grandpa and Josie, informing them that we were leaving New York City that day and were on our way to “parts unknown”. We truly had no idea where we would spend our honeymoon. We both decided to get into the car and just drive until we found something we liked. The second night we stopped at Darien, Connecticut, and from there we continued until we found the place that attracted us. It was actually a sports camp that happened to be closing up for the winter. It was situated on Long Lake, near Naples, Maine and Lake Sebago. It was owned and operated by Arthur C. Trott. It was a beautiful spot with lovely grounds and lots of trees. There were many separate cabins overlooking the lake, and the lake afforded everybody good fishing, boating and swimming. It was quiet and restful, and just a perfect place to spend a honeymoon. The bonus for us was that we were the only guests there, and so had the entire place at our disposal. The cost for Dad and me for one week was $40 per person, including meals, private cabin and all recreational facilities.

Our week there was filled with so many interesting things to do and see. We took many side trips by car to enjoy the beautiful Maine countryside.

On Sunday after going to mass, Dad and I decided to get in the canoe and go for a little sail on the lake. We did not bother to change into comfortable clothes, but instead we went into the boat in our church finery. The lake was like a mirror – very still, and the entire scene was like a picture post card. But almost in an instant, a squall came up. Now waves seemed to surface everywhere, opposing each other with extreme rhythms and movements. I had heard the word squall mentioned many times, but now we were in the middle of one actually happening. Dad appeared calm, but I sensed that he was aware, as I was, of the danger we were both facing, and without life jackets besides. Dad rowed the canoe with extreme caution, carefully avoiding any confrontation with the angry waves that were all around us. After a half hour had passed, and already late for lunch, Arthur Trott set out in his motor boat to search for the missing honeymooners. After spotting us, Arthur carefully guided us the rest of the way. We reached shore safely, and after getting ourselves out of the canoe, we thanked Arthur for all his concern and assistance. We proceeded to our cabin to freshen up before going to the dining room, where a delicious hot New England Sunday dinner was waiting for us, ready to be served. We were thankful for the food, but most thankful that we were there bodily to enjoy it, after escaping the ravages of the squall.

The night before our departure from Long Lake, we packed the car and telephoned our parents that we would be arriving home in a few days. We planned on doing the trip home in two days. We knew there would be a big welcome waiting for us, and we were right. When we arrived at my parents’ home in Lakeview, they were all on hand awaiting our arrival, including Grandpa and Josie. The dining room table was set for all of us, and it had all the makings of a real feast. Of course, everybody wanted to hear about our trip, and in addition, more talk and discussion about our wedding continued as well.

After a wonderful homecoming, and as the evening wore on, Dad and I thanked everybody for all their love and interest. At that point we were ready to leave the Vecchio household, to begin our new life together as Mr. and Mrs. Salvatore Pappalardo, address: 25 Aberdeen Street, Malverne.

In the interest of brevity, I have tried to minimize the events of my last 57 years, and accordingly have grouped them into ten-year periods. In each decade, I have expounded on those events which were most noteworthy at the time.

In contrast, you will note that I have devoted much detail of content to the events of the first 20 years of my life. The reasons for this are varied. First, one of my primary objectives in writing this journal is to describe to the reader what living accommodations were like for those whose families were large, yet whose financial resources were minimal. This was the environment in which I lived. Secondly, despite living under such disadvantages, I would suggest that a child growing up in a home filled with love and security could nevertheless enjoy a happy and healthy childhood, and could also achieve success in the career of his choice, whatever it might happen to be. Thirdly, living together as a well-knit family does help to develop traits of good character in each of us, while still gaining the ability to understand, to get along, and to share many things with one another. In essence, the family is the early beginning of community living, which later extends itself to the school, to the workplace, etc. I was most fortunate to have grown up in such a setting. And now, to continue with my story.

With our honeymoon now a wonderful memory, we were ready to begin our life together. Dad and I knew that there would be many adjustments for each of us to make. We knew also that we had envisioned many dreams and plans for ourselves in the years still ahead for us, in the hopes that most, if not all, would be fulfilled. With determination and high hopes, we were prepared to begin.

From the very first day of our occupancy, our little apartment was well used and shared not only by us, but by friends and family as well. I guess I inherited from my mother a love and interest in cooking dinners as she had done, and extending invitations to those who were available to come. What better way was there to fraternize with friends and family?

Of course, the first ones to be invited for dinner were my mother and father, and Grandpa and Josie. Because of the size of both our families and the limited space of our apartment, we could not have everybody at one time. But eventually everyone was invited as time progressed.

Dad and I both agreed that I would continue working at the real estate office, for a while anyway. Two salaries would help to add some extra dollars to our budget. Mr. Bisbee was happy to know that I would be coming back. However, the plan did not work too long. After six months of our marriage, I realized that I was pregnant, which pleased both of us very much, as well as both our families. Dad insisted that I quit my job after the first trimester, which is hardly the practice today. Most modern mothers work up until their ninth month. I suspect that Dad wanted me to be well-rested in preparation for our new addition, who was scheduled to arrive in early December.

It so happened that Dad and I were invited to my mother’s and father’s house for dinner on a particular Sunday, December 4th. It was while there that Mother Nature gave me notice that Baby Pappalardo was on its way. After telephoning our doctor first, he advised us that I should go to the hospital right away. Accordingly, Dad and I and my mother took off for South Nassau Communities Hospital in Rockville Centre. After I checked in and was properly assigned to a room, there were no immediate signs of a baby’ arrival just yet. On the doctor’s advice, Dad and my mother returned home, to play the waiting game there. On Monday they both appeared back at the hospital – still no baby. They both returned home again late Monday evening in the hopes that the baby would arrive momentarily. They waited patiently for the phone to ring signaling the good news, but to no avail. Finally, by early Tuesday morning, December 6th, the big event happened. We were blessed with a beautiful girl, Rosemary, named after her godmother (my sister Rose), and my mother. Of course, within the hour, Dad was at my bedside, as well as my mother and father and Dad’s family as well. It was easy to recognize that everybody was proud and happy to welcome our new addition.

Babies always bring about much celebration and excitement, and our firstborn was no exception. We had such a celebration for Rosemary’s baptism, which happened to be January 1st. The Pappalardos and the Vecchios were all present for the occasion. As for Rosemary, she slept through it all.

Without a second bedroom, we managed to make space for a crib for Rosemary in our bedroom, which was quite large and able to accommodate an extra piece of furniture.

From the moment we brought our baby home from the hospital, Rosemary was never lacking attention by any means. She was constantly being bounce from one lap to another. Family and friends made a fuss over her wherever we went, and she loved every bit of it.

Dad and I soon got into the routine of being a threesome without any difficulty, and I must say that Rosemary was a good baby. She did her share of sleeping, and when she was awake she was very pleasant. Meanwhile, our landlady, Mrs. Warreng, began to get very attached to her. So did we all.

In the late spring of 1940, I found that I was pregnant again. With a new baby on the way, we soon realized that, as much as we loved our apartment, it would not be suitable for four of us to live there comfortably.

Dad and I often thought of buying or building a home, but financially it was out of our reach. Our only assets were our car and a small amount of money in the bank. Grandpa and Josie were both very encouraging in this regard, and indicated they would help us to get started. I spoke earlier of the large parcel of property on Chestnut Street in Malverne, which Grandpa had purchased some years ago. They used a part of this parcel to build a new home for themselves to replace the Woodside Avenue home which they had sold. There still remained on this parcel ample room for two more homes.

Accordingly, after much discussion, Grandpa offered to finance and build a house for us according to our own specifications. Needless to say, we were overjoyed and gratified when we learned of this generous offer. We realized that this would be our golden opportunity to own a home at long last, a place that we would eventually call “ours”. The understanding was that upon final completion of the house, we were to get the necessary mortgage money from our local bank. In this way, we would be able to pay Grandpa back for the building costs which he had personally paid on our behalf.

The total cost of the house was $6,500. After applying at the bank for a first mortgage, we were informed that the maximum amount they would give us was $4,000. It was a 20-year mortgage, with monthly payments of $26.40, not including taxes. We gladly accepted these terms. Home ownership never looked so good!! As for the $2,500 balance to be paid, Grandpa agreed to carry a second mortgage to accommodate us. This amount was paid off in three years. Grandpa and Josie were proud of our dependability in the handling of our responsibilities, and we were most appreciative of all the help they had given us at this special time in our lives.

Our new address would be 44 Chestnut Street, Malverne, New York. Grandpa’s and Josie’s address was 66 Chestnut Street, since their move from Woodside Avenue had already taken place. We would really get to be close neighbors now. (Before this we were about 2 ½ miles apart.) How lucky for all of us. This move to Chestnut Street solidified the beatutiful and warm relationship we had always enjoyed since Dad and I married. As grandparents, they doted on and adored Rosemary, and this continued with each and every one of the babies that were born after Rosemary’s arrival. As for my ratings with Grandpa and Josie, I was loved and highly respected by both of them. They considered me more as a daughter than a daughter-in-law. I too held both of them in high esteem and loved them dearly. They were on an equal plane with my own mother and father.

With Grandpa in charge of construction, it was easy to understand how our home was so sturdy and so well built. It was a 1 ½ story brick home, built on a 80′ by 100’plot on the corner of Chestnut Street and Willow Place. Our kitchen was all tile, bright, sunny, and very large. There was a large living room with a tile fireplace. Also on the first floor were two bedrooms and a full tile bathroom. Off the kitchen was a huge screened porch with a beautiful tile floor. This porch was over the attached one-car garage. Later, after Rosemary’s first birthday, we finished off the upper floor with two large bedrooms and another tile bathroom. The basement was high and dry, and we later finished off a recreation room there, suitable for gatherings which we often had from time to time. Our home was all we had hoped it would be and even more. It answered all our needs and it was an ideal setting for raising a family.

We moved from Aberdeen Street in early January of 1941. It was a sad time for Mrs. Warreng to see us leave, as she had become very attached to us, and especially to Rosemary. The three years we lived there were very happy, and we had always enjoyed Mrs. Warreng’s friendship as well as her excellent baking. She was employed at one time as a cook at the local high school cafeteria, and was considered an excellent baker. We always enjoyed her coffee crumb cake with the big crumbs on top; it was mouth-watering.

In worldly news, this was a time of much concern for everybody. Adolph Hitler, together with Benito Mussolini, were already recklessly invading countries in Europe, including Great Britain, disregarding the honor and dignity of human lives. Then, on December 7, 1941, Japan executed her sneak attack on Pearl Harbor. The announcement of the attack, as we heard it on the radio, stunned each and every one of us. We all realized the seriousness of the attack, and the loss of lives of our American sailors and soldiers who, without notice, had given up their lives with no just cause. World War II for America had just begun, and the next few years would affect all of us in many different ways.

The economic picture of our country had begun its transformation. First of all, private construction was almost at a standstill, as almost all the building materials were given to or bought by our government for our defense and military needs. This meant the end of Grandpa’s tile business, which he later dissolved. The building that housed Nation Tile and Marble Works was deeded over to the mortgage company, as Grandpa could not afford to pay the overhead expenses that steadily accrued. It was a sad way to end the many years that Grandpa had dedicated to develop the thriving business that he once owned and operated.

Employment was high in the numerous defense plants. All those who were unemployed or recently laid off from companies that could no longer operate because of the lack of materials soon found employment at places like Grumman, Republic and Sperry Gyroscope, to name a few. Wages were good, and overtime added to the take-home pay. Dad’s brothers Frank and Denny worked on an ammunition fleet of ships in Baltimore. Dad’s brother Joe worked at Grumman’s, and Dad worked at Republic. I do not know where Teddy was employed.

In 1938, Dad’s brother Freddie has already purchased an 80 acre parcel of land along both sides of River Road in Shawnee, Pennsylvania for the sum of $4,500. At today’s prices this was a steal!! Some of the land sat along the Delaware River, and some of the land across the road was mountainous property. Freddie started constructing his first beautiful home for himself and Mary on land that overlooked the river. Because of war priorities, he was not able to completely finish it. They were able to live in it, but had to use a coal stove in lieu of a heating system.

They were also without electricity and had to use oil lamps. In order to get the electricity, he had to apply for preferential treatment by registering as a farmer. He chose to be a farmer who raised chickens!! In due time, after approval by the utility company, he constructed a barn with material he already had on hand and lumber from his neighbor who had a sawmill. Many trees from Freddie’s property were cut to size at the sawmill. With the aid of the barn to house the chickens, Freddie and Mary soon developed a thriving chicken and egg business during the war years. He was now a successful farmer and he also had acquired the electricity he would need for future development of his land.

Besides the priority of materials for the military, everybody’s consumption of certain goods was rationed and regulated by our government. This included shoes, gasoline, and food items such as sugar, coffee and meats. All of this was controlled with the issuance of ration books to each member of every family. Ceiling prices were in effect to curb the sharks that were out there trying to get rich quick. Nevertheless, those who had the money to buy illegal “black market” stamps were able to buy as much as they wanted without suffering any wartime restrictions or deprivations.

By the beginning of 1942 in the Vecchio household, five more weddings had taken place, including my sister Rose. The only one remaining single was my brother Louie. It was hard to imagine how a home once filled with so many people and so much activity was suddenly changed to just three people and little sound. My father was beginning to show signs of forgetfulness and loss of memory. As for my mother, she was fighting high blood pressure, as well as hiding worry over financial problems that would surface from time to time. With just about everyone married now, there were no more weekly contributions coming in toward household expenses as my brothers, my sister and I had given when we were at home. Nevertheless, Louie did more than his share, not only financially, but also in taking car eof whatever needed to be done around the house. He was truly a dedicated son.

With the war in progress, there were some changes of employment in the Vecchio household. My sister Rose and her husband Tony were employed at Grumman’s. My brother Louie worked for Sperry Gyroscope. My brother Julie obtained a position as social studies teacher at the local high school where I graduated. My brother Jimmy still retained his job with Knickerbocker Ice Company. My brother Tony was now driving a cab in New York City. Johnny was still employed with United Parcel. My brother Eddie enlisted in the Navy as a Chief Petty Officer and was stationed at Camp Le Jeune, North Carolina. My brother Frank was now the mechanic and owner of his own lucrative gas station and garage. He and his wife lived next door to the business. My brother Charlie was engaged in the operation of big road machinery in and around the area where he lived in New York City.

I have reviewed and updated the employment picture of both the Pappalardos and the Vecchios to show how national conditions can affect the lives of so many. Living through World War II taught us many things, including the need to sacrifice and to help in any way we could to attain victory and peace once again.

Our second child, a son, Salvatore John, was born on February 28, 1941. It was a happy time for us, despite the gravity of the events of the war. Grandpa and Josie had just returned from Florida, and were greeted upon their arrival home by a raging snowstorm. Telephone lines were down in the area where Grandpa lived; thus Dad could not reach them by phone to give them the good news. Dad solved the communication dilemma by delegating the Malverne Taxi to go to Grandpa and Josie’s house to deliver the message personally that they were once again grandparents, and to a namesake (Salvatore) at that. As soon as roads were cleared, Dad arranged to pick them up, and brought them to the hospital to see the new baby and me. It was a wonderful reunion, as we had not seen them for several months.

Returning home with our new baby was a happy occasion. Rosemary was eager and anxious to hold her baby brother, and when she did, all the grownups of the family were on hand to make sure that she had a firm grip on baby Sal. She handled her brother very well, and from that day forward took on the role of “big sister” with much confidence.

With the Selective Service Act in force, all eligible men up to age 40 (I believe) were required to register at their local draft board for military duty. Dad accordingly registered at the Malverne Draft Board. He was 33 years old at the time. The registration numbers allotted to the registrants were selected at random, and the quota that was dictated by the Department of Defense determined the amount of men selected by the draft board.

With this cloud of uncertainty hanging over us, we continued to go on as usual with our daily lives. Dad faithfully continued with his job at Republic, and from time to time showed signs of exhaustion. He sometimes worked, if needed, seven days a week, and some were ten-hour days. He never complained, and on days that he came home late, I always made sure, after serving him a hot supper, that Rosemary was still available to him, so that they could enjoy a little time together. Being two years younger, Sal was already in bed and fast asleep.

With working long hours, and with the promise of a raise always denied him or put on the back burner, Dad had threatened many times to resign from his job at Republic, but he was successfully appeased by his bosses. They cited many good reasons for him to remain with the company, one of them being that employment in a defense plant would excuse him from military duty.

When I informed Dad that I was pregnant again, he was happy to hear the news. But he was more than sure, now that there would be another mouth to feed, that he must have that raise or else resign as he had threatened. Before handing in his resignation, he was fortunate enough to secure a position with the drafting department of the County of Nassau in Mineola, New York. This was a wonderful opportunity for him to use the background of learning he had acquired at Cooper Union in architectural design. The County needed draftsmen, as they were designing all streets and roads to accommodate plans for the installation of sewers. The salary was a little less than Republic, but the hours were less demanding, and the camaraderie of the office personnel was super.

Dad properly submitted his resignation to leave Republic, giving them the required two weeks notice, and they in turn gave him a letter of recommendation for his high quality of workmanship. Dad was now ready to begin his new position. From his very first day he was extremely happy working in his new surroundings, and in a very short time he developed many good friendships there.

On February 19, 1943, we were blessed with a darling baby girl, Jean. Now Rosemary had not only a brother but a sister, too. She was thrilled, as was Sal John. Our family was indeed growing. Jean was of lighter complexion than both Rosemary and Sal, and her hair was blonde in color. As I recall from stories my mother told me, some of the Costandinis were redheads and of fair complexion. This was typical of families who lived in northern Italy, where my mother was born. My brother Johnny was a redhead with light skin and freckles, and looked somewhat Irish. My sister Angelina who died at age 2 was of that same coloring. I, too as a child had blonde hair and a fair complexion.

Our new home on Chestnut Street was comfortable and amply large enough to take care of our growing family of five. As usual it was always full of people dropping in to visit us and to see the new baby. On weekends we often played cards after enjoying a dinner together. Sometimes it was with Julie and Carrie, sometimes with Teddy and Anna, and sometimes it was men only – my brother Louie and Dad’s brothers Teddy and Frank. When the men played it was always poker; otherwise it was pinochle.

Meanwhile, whenever possible, my mother always managed to have my brother Louie drive her to our house to spend a little time with us and all our children. Josie also arranged to come from next door to join us as well. Josie and my mother got along famously, and continued to remain close as the years went by.

In due time the inevitable happened. Both Dad and my brother John received their notices that they had been selected by number to join our armed forces. They were notified to appear at the designated recruitment location in New York City to undergo the required physical examination. Both passed their physicals, but the fact that Dad passed is still debatable. When Dad and I went to our family physician prior to our marriage for physicals and blood work, Dad was informed that he had heart problems, brought about by an undetected bout of rheumatic fever he had suffered when he was eight years old. Instead of the bed rest which was required to avoid serious complications, he was doing what all eight-year-olds do – running, climbing trees, playing baseball, and everything else imaginable. As a result his heart was damaged, and he suffered its effects as he grew older.

After learning that our husbands would be soon inducted and would be leaving us for an indefinite period, my sister-in-law Marie and I slowly began to realize that we would soon have to adjust to a new way of life, both financially and emotionally. Marie had Johnny Mike, age 3½, to be concerned about, and I had three little ones, ages 5½, 3½ and 14 months. It was mind-boggling, but like everyone else we had to be strong.

Ironically, both Dad and my brother were inducted on the same day, April 29, 1944. Johnny joined the Navy and Dad, with a background in construction, joined the Army Corps of Engineers. Dad and I could very well see many changes looming for all of us.

That day, April 29, 1944, was a day I shall never forget. At various opportune times, he and I had often talked about his coming departure with Rosemary and Sal (Jean was too young), but I don’t think that the seriousness of it or its implications had made any kind of impression on them. From time to time they had been exposed to pictures in the daily newspaper of sailors and soldiers in uniform engaged in military offensives, and seemed to accept it all as normal.

Dad’s notice for induction stated that he was to report at a location in Mineola where there would be a fleet of Army buses lined up and ready to transport the men. They were scheduled to go to Camp Upton, Long Island for further briefing and assignment, and to receive their uniforms.

It was agreed among us that Grandpa and I would accompany Dad to Mineola and Josie would remain at home with the three children. Little did we know that on that very morning the two oldest ones had come down with chicken pox and were running the usual fever that goes with it.

As the time drew nearer for us to leave and for Dad to say goodbye to our three little ones, you can imagine the tears and emotions that followed. Tears rolled down little cheeks that were dotted with red spots. It was not a happy picture to look at, making it difficult for all of us as we huddled together, hugging one another and trying to wipe away the tears. The fever and discomfort of the chicken pox certainly did not help the situation in any way, making it hard to part under these conditions. Dad tried very hard to keep his composure and managed to hug each of the children and Josie with a last goodbye. We left the room and proceeded to get into the car en route to Mineola. The picture of Josie standing at the window holding Jean in her arms, with Rosemary and Sal clinging to her side, is as clear today as that day in April. Grandpa, Dad and I waved goodbye from the car, trying to hold back the tears. At this emotional time, the only comfort for the four we left behind was their consolation of each other. At 14 months, Jean was the bravest of all – she was too young to comprehend the whole situation.

When we arrived at the embarkation point in Mineola, we witnessed a wide variety of people, expressing a wide variety of emotions. One could easily detect the young unattached soldier showing much enthusiasm and national pride in being an important part of the U.S. Army. He seemed to be very much in control of his composure, and perhaps at that moment was already thinking very seriously of making the Army his lifetime career.

In contrast were those men who were in love and were now forced to leave their sweethearts behind in answer to their call of duty. It was evident that every minute that remained to them before boarding the bus was precious, as the coupled lovers embraced for the last time.

And then there were the husbands like Dad, who were also preparing themselves for this painful separation, not only from their wives (some pregnant), but from their children as well.

Soon the long line of buses was ready to depart and, one by one, the men boarded, bound for Camp Upton, where each of them would be processed, assigned and outfitted with their proper uniforms. Grandpa and I stoically stood by waving to Dad, who by now had seated himself next to a window where he could easily see us. As we watched the last bus disappear from sight, Grandpa and I got into the car. The ride back to our house was very quiet – almost void of conversation. Many thoughts raced through both our minds, as we tried to figure out what was happening. But from that very moment I knew that I had to be strong for the sake of the children, as well as myself.

Several months before, Josie and Grandpa had decided that they would sell their home next door to us, as it was too big and too expensive to maintain. With the war still in progress, they were aware that building a replacement home was out of the question for the time being. In a very short time they had a buyer and needed to make arrangements to move. With Dad’s induction a reality, they suggested using the upstairs finished floor of our home, if that was OK with me. With Dad away, I thought this was an excellent idea, as it provided each of us the much-needed moral support during this difficult time. In addition, the $35 per month rent they offered to pay me would help stretch the $120 monthly stipend that I was receiving for Dad’s service.

With this income I managed to pay for the mortgage, taxes, heat, utilities, food, clothing, medical bills, insurance, etc. Needless to say there wasn’t a nickel left over after all the bills were paid, but fortunately every bill was paid on time, never overdue.

About a month after Dad left for the Army, Grandpa and Josie officially moved in with us. They squeezed in as much furniture as was possible, in both of the rooms upstairs. They also bought and installed a small cooking range, a kitchen sink, and a small refrigerator to take care of the light cooking for breakfast and lunch. The main dinner meal always took place in our big kitchen. Grandpa had done much of the cooking in recent years, and insisted on continuing the practice. As for their excess furniture, it was properly protected and stored in our basement.

We had always been close neighbors, but now that we were living together, we were even closer. It was an ideal situation during the war emergency. Josie and Grandpa had a convenient place to live until such time that building a replacement home was possible. And for the children and myself it was a comfort to know that I was not alone. Should any emergency arise, there was ample family support, and in close proximity.

Josie was always generous, as was Grandpa, but she was also wise in her thinking and frugal. She knew that the money realized from the sale of their home at 66 Chestnut Street could very well diminish over the years, before the time that they would be ready to build once again. To insure against this, she decided to earn money by working in a factory in Lynbrook, where army jackets were manufactured.

Josie was an excellent seamstress and well qualified for the work. She sewed the pockets on the jackets and was paid a piecework rate. Because of her speed, she was able to earn a very handsome weekly salary. Her boss was in awe not only of her speed, but also of the perfect workmanship she produced.

Josie’s employment left Grandpa alone to a degree. But being the very active person he always was as a businessman, he immediately occupied himself with a vegetable garden, did light repairs around the house, and of course did the cooking as well. He took great pride in making pots of chicken soup, as he felt it was satisfying and healthy for his grandchildren and all of us as well. He was right. Many times he would take the Long Island Railroad to Brooklyn to buy fish, bread, cheese or vegetables at the favorite stores which he had patronized over the years. We savored and enjoyed every morsel as well as the crispy loaves of Italian bread.

As for his cooking, it was super, but the drawback was that he could never operate without Josie by his side to assist him, or else a qualified substitute to take her place. Needless to say, I automatically became the permanent substitute. This was not always easy, believe me, with three young children demanding my attention, all at the same time. With Grandpa, the timing of his needs was unpredictable. A plan to can tomatoes on a moment’s notice was not unusual.

I was told many times, by Josie and others who knew Grandpa and his ways, that I was considered an unusual daughter-in-law, endowed with an endless supply of patience. Whether their evaluation was correct I do not know, but I do know that we were taught while growing up at home to always respect those older than ourselves, and to conform to their wishes, regardless of our own personal feelings. I always accepted anything Grandpa suggested that I do or not do, resulting in a close harmony between us at all times. He loved me as he would a daughter, and the feeling was mutual. We were fortunate indeed to have Josie and Grandpa as parents and grandparents. Our relationship continued to grow more and more, with much love, care and concern for each of us.

The routine of each day was the same and, much of the time was run according to the specifications of the “Grandpa Plan”. For example, by 5:15 PM the table was properly set for the six of us. The children were washed, seated and ready for supper, as we awaited Josie’s entrance through the door at precisely 5:15.If she did not arrive on time, Grandpa’s standard request was for me to call the factory and inquire whether Josie had already left. To appease him, I would always comply, but down deep I felt that this was an unnecessary request, as in due time she would be home. Upon calling the factory, I would get the usual response, “She already left.” Within minutes, Josie would arrive. Of course she had to give Grandpa an explanation of why she was detained, which satisfied Grandpa. At that point we were all ready to eat supper, and things were running normal again!

Life for everyone went on as usual, despite the daily tragedies of the war, which were difficult to read and hear about. We had become accustomed to the rationing that was well in effect, and we were well informed as to routine measures for defense as outlined by the Civilian Defense Authority. Meanwhile, many volunteers donated much of their time to work in hospitals and many other agencies that assisted in the war effort. They knitted, they rolled bandages, they served food, they drove cars for the motor corps, and provided many other worthwhile services. Because of home responsibilities, I was unable to volunteer. My responsibility, with Josie’s and Grandpa’s help, was to keep our home safe, warm and comfortable, and to lovingly care for our three little ones, who needed all the support and love they could possibly get.

My closing activity each night, despite my tiredness, was to write a letter to Dad. He was stationed at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri at that time, going through the necessary basic training. In each letter I recounted the day’s activities and assured him that all was going well on the home front. I am sorry and disappointed that these letters were lost during one of our various moves over the years. They would have supplied all of us with many interesting accounts of events that occurred at that time.

The big news in mid-September was that Dad would be granted his first 16-day furlough. Needless to say, we were all keyed up for this event. It was hard to believe that Dad would be on a train headed for home and would soon be sitting at the table having dinner with us once again.

We had no car of our own at that time. When a car was needed, I had the use of Josie’s two-door Chevrolet Coupe, large enough for two persons, three if they squeezed together. To eliminate any problems as to who would accompany me to meet Dad at the train station, I decided to go alone. I was there to meet the train as it pulled into the Malverne railroad station at 6:30 AM. Before the train had come to a halt, my heart started to race. Our precious moment had arrived. As he stepped down from the train I ran to him, and after he dropped his duffel bag on the ground, we embraced each other tightly, not caring about those who were walking about the station and witnessing our moment together. We were on cloud nine and in a world all our own.

By the time we arrived home the front door was already opened wide, and out came the children, running to Dad helter-skelter, almost knocking him over. They were so excited and happy to see their Daddy once again, and he was as happy as they were to be back home with the kids.

As each day passed, Dad and I and the kids did our share of visiting with family and friends. Each visit was a celebration in itself. We had a few reunions at our house as well. But as the saying goes, all good things come to an end, and as we had expected, it was now time for Dad to leave us again. We all handled the situation very well this time, and we were ready to resume our normal routine as we did before. Of course we all held on to our hopes that some day soon this war would come to an end, and that our servicemen could return once more to their loved ones at home.

Five months had already passed since Dad and my brother had left home for military duty. With all but one of my brothers and my sister now married and out of the house, life at our homestead in Lakeview was far different than it had been. The liveliness that once was present was no longer evident. My mother now cooked for three instead of eleven, which did not make her very happy. Cooking for crowds and serving them was her forte and always gave her much pleasure. But by now, hard work, worry and poor health had begun to take their toll on both my mother and my father. This gave all of us much concern, particularly my brother Louie who still lived at home with them.

On October 7, 1944 I received a distressing phone call from my mother’s neighbor, Gladys Matthews, informing me that while they were having their morning coffee together, as was their usual custom, my mother suffered a severe stroke. Louie had already left for work. His usual shift at Sperry was 5 PM to 1:30 AM, but he had been called in to work extra hours to fill some special orders for the defense department. This left my mother alone with my father, and Gladys.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, I telephoned my brother Frank at his garage, asking him to pick me up immediately. I arranged with Josie and Grandpa to keep an eye on the children while I was gone.

Frank must have put the pedal to the floor, because it seemed to me that he was at my door in minutes. When Frank and I arrived at my mother’s, we found her sitting on her favorite chair in the living room, with my father and Gladys standing on either side of her. Her first reaction on seeing us was to cry uncontrollably. I’m sure she already realized that something terrible had just happened to her. Her mouth was already twisted; she could not speak and her entire left side was completely paralyzed. It was a sad sight to witness. As for my father, he seemed very much confused and appeared to be in a daze, finding it very difficult to understand the things that were happening as each moment passed by.

Both Frank and I embraced my mother, trying our best to soothe her while reassuring her that she was soon going to be all right. In the meantime I lost no time at all in calling for a doctor to examine her. Yes, at that time doctors did make house calls.

As soon as the doctor arrived, he confirmed what we already knew, that it was definitely a stroke, which was triggered by the high blood pressure that she had been troubled with over the years. He informed us that with the war still in full progress, hospital beds were at a premium and were mostly reserved for emergency cases. In my mother’s case, her slow recovery would demand long time care. He suggested a nursing home where she would receive appropriate professional care, or, on lieu of that, keeping her at home with adequate home care and attention. Before leaving, he left prescriptions for medications to treat her present condition. In addition he suggested massage and therapy to be administered at home by a professional therapist, but it was a bit too early yet to start this procedure.

We thanked the doctor for his immediate response, as well as for his professional advice and suggestions. He assured us that he would be happy to take on my mother’s case for follow-up treatment, and we gladly accepted his offer. Having the doctor come to our home was a convenience for us, especially for my mother.

After the doctor left I walked over to my mother and held her hand tightly to give her reassurance. Looking directly at her with a warm smile, I said, “You’re coming home with me. I’ll be able to take good care of you. Just don’t worry, because everything is going to be all right.” These words seemed to comfort her, even though she couldn’t respond verbally.

At that point I put on a pot of coffee to help us get some renewed energy, and to help us come up with some idea as to how we were going to get this 185 pound woman into my brother’s car. After having our coffee, we decided to put my mother on an ordinary kitchen chair. It worked very well. We slowly pushed the chair to the front entrance. Frank pulled his car up on the lawn, right up to the doorway. Then we took the chair with my mother strapped in it and lowered her very carefully down the three steps. We opened the car door to the front seat, and lifted her from the chair to the front seat. My father and I sat in the back of the car with the empty chair between us. When we arrived at my house, we repeated the procedure with the chair. We were successful in getting her settled into her bed, and she soon fell fast asleep, exhausted. Josie and Grandpa and the children quietly looked on, coming to grips with the whole sad situation.

I knew that now, in addition to our three children, there would be the added responsibility of my mother’s care as well. As far as I was concerned, I was determined and prepared to give her all the love and comfort and attention which she justly deserved. But most of all, I wanted her to feel happy and “at home” in her new surroundings. The closeness my mother and always shared apparently contributed to her immediate acceptance of the idea of living with us. Having the children around her gave her much joy and helped her to forget her physical handicaps.

We all became accustomed to our new routine, now that my mother was living with us. After several weeks we realized that the stroke had been severe, and that she would never regain the use of her left side. She remained confined to bed until she died.

Besides doing the regular household chores, my typical day’s routine went something like this:

8:00 am – Breakfast for children.

8:30 – Bathe my mother, change bed linens, serve her breakfast.

9:30 – Wash and hang children’s laundry. For entertainment, my mother listened to the radio in her room. She thoroughly enjoyed programs such as Stella Dallas, John’s Other Wife, The Goldbergs, and many others. Josie and Grandpa would visit with my mother often, and of course the children were in and out of her room, making lots of conversation. By this time her speech had returned.

12:00 Noon – Lunch for children. My brother Louie would come for lunch, with my father, before leaving for work each day.

12:15 – Lunch served to my mother. After her lunch was finished, Louie and I lifted her out of bed into a rocking chair. We would then slide the chair to the back porch for her to enjoy the outdoor scenery: the trees, bushes, flowers, birds, etc. Before Louie left for work, he and I would return my mother to her room, lift her into bed, and freshen her up as well as her bed linens.

5:15 – The children, Josie, Grandpa and I (and my father, when he was there) ate supper in the kitchen.

5:30 – Supper served to my mother.

7:00 – Children bathed and ready for bed.

8:00 – Bedtime for children.

8:15 – After September 1945, my brother Johnny would come each night to help me get my mother out of bed just as Louie and I did every afternoon. This change of position made her feel more comfortable, and she particularly enjoyed the mobility of getting out of the bedroom to other parts of the house.

9:30 – Johnny and I returned my mother to her bedroom, and the lights in her room were out for the night. Johnny then returned home.

10:00 – Daily letter written to Dad.

10:30 – Finished undone tasks, soaked children’s laundry overnight. I had no washing machine, and did laundry by hand. All other laundry that had to be done was picked up by the laundry truck and returned the next day, washed and wet. I hung them to dry on the line. This was considered the economy plan. You could have them dried, pressed and folded, but that was too expensive for my budget.

11:00-11:30 PM – Bedtime.

Needless to say, my mother had lots of company, mostly family, who cam to visit with her. Many of them were from out of town, which kept me quite busy cooking and preparing food for all off us. But all of it pleased my mother, seeing everybody together.

Concerning my father’s care, I suggested to my brother Louie that he could stay with us during the day and go home at night just to sleep. We tried this for a few weeks, but problems soon arose.

As I mentioned, my father was beginning to have memory lapses, and was becoming more and more confused as time went on. He had several episodes of getting lost and having to be returned home in a police car. My brother Louie was worried, as there was no one at home in Lakeview to supervise and care for him. I, of course, was fully occupied with the care of my mother and our children. After a family consultation, we all agreed that my father should be placed in a nursing home. Arrangements were made and finalized. He responded well and became acclimated to the transition. He remained there until his death in 1949.

Needless to say, I immediately informed Dad by letter of the whole situation concerning my mother’s stroke and her stay with us. Dad wrote back right away, expressing his deep sadness that she was undergoing so much pain and suffering. But he was happy to know that I made the decision to bring her to our house. He agreed with me that that was where she belonged – with us. This gave all of us involved a feeling of contentment.

As time passed, the U.S. continued to make progress and to gain more and more success in our war maneuvers. By May 1945, Germany had surrendered to the Allies on VE Day, and by August, Japan had surrendered as well, on VJ Day. There were numerous celebrations and ticker tape parades taking place in every city and town across our country. Excitement and national pride everywhere was high. Our soldiers would once more be reunited with their loved ones, ready to resume living their lives as before.

My brother Johnny was discharged in September 1945, and Dad was discharged on December 9, 1945. We were overjoyed to have them home again, and it didn’t take our children very long to realize that their Daddy was home for good. It was such a wonderful feeling.

My brother Johnny resumed his job with United Parcel. Dad was offered his former job as draftsman with the County of Nassau. He chose instead to go back into tile work, working independently for himself. He also helped hi brother Denny in the construction of his new home in West Hempstead, which had just been started.

Upon Dad’s return home, he lost no time in having wonderful talks with my mother during her convalescence. You could really see how much she enjoyed the conversation and his support. She was also happy and relieved knowing that her son and son-in-law were both back home once again, safe and sound.

My routine in caring for my mother continued at the same hectic pace, with one exception. On the advice of my mother’s doctor, I was able to obtain a washing machine with the presentation of a letter written by the doctor certifying our need for this appliance because of my mother’s illness. Appliances, like building supplies, were still in short supply. Accordingly, it was necessary to be put on a waiting list, and wait your turn for the next available appliance. Of course we were delighted to have this modern convenience. It eliminated doing the children’s daily wash on the scrub board, as well as the need for the laundry man to pick up our soiled laundry each week.

By September 1945, Rosemary had entered school. Although we lived in the incorporated village of Malverne, we were a part of the Valley Stream school district. The school bus stop was located two blocks from our house. Rosemary did not seem to mind the walk. As most children do, she soon adjusted to the new beginnings at school.

Besides getting used to school, she also seemed very willing to watch over her younger brother and sister whenever they were playing outside. She always kept a close eye on them, and took on the role of mother hen voluntarily. Of course, I was there as well, but it was gratifying to know that she was seriously taking on her job as “big sister”.

After having suffered several other “mini-strokes” in the course of time that followed, my mother passed away in our home on May 7, 1947. It was a devastating blow to all of us in the family, especially to me and Dad and the children. We had always had a very close relationship, but over the past few years, our feelings grew deeper and deeper. It would take some time for all of us to adjust to the silence in the bedroom that once was hers.

Her mission in life was now completed, having unselfishly given, without measured limits, love and care and comfort to all around her. We indeed were the beneficiaries to have had her in our midst for the years that she lived among us.

A short while before Dad’s discharge from the army, Josie and Grandpa began to make plans to build another replacement home for themselves, on the remaining parcel of land they still owned on Chestnut Street. With the war almost at an end, building supplies slowly began to become available.

By the early spring of 1946, they had already moved out of the upstairs apartment and were settled in their new home at 22 Chestnut Street. It was a brick split level house, situated on a corner plot, and as usual, perfectly constructed with all the precise details for which Grandpa was noted.

Building and construction and real estate in general were on the upswing. Business began to develop and flourish. The service men returning from the war took advantage of the GI Bill of Rights offered to them by our government, and enrolled in various colleges of their choice, tuition free. This was a wonderful opportunity to earn a college degree and to obtain a well-paying position upon graduation. Things in general were looking good. Everybody was engaged in finding their niche, and feeling optimistic about it.

In addition to Rosemary, both Sal and Jean were now enrolled in school. All three enjoyed making friends at school and with the neighbors’ children. When not in school, they enjoyed the space and surroundings around our home. Traffic was minimal, and the area was still a quiet and ideal place to raise children. The children took great delight in walking to Josie and Grandpa’s new home to visit. Their house was on the same side of the street as ours, about 300 feet away – a small enough distance for them to safely venture alone. Rosemary would take charge of her “little brood”. As usual, she always handled her responsibilities very well.

With the upstairs still vacant after Josie and Grandpa’s move, Dad and I decided to rent it. This would help us financially, as there were so many things we had postponed buying while Dad was in the service. Our finished room downstairs had already been converted into another bedroom at the time Josie and Grandpa had moved in, so we were not lacking any space. We rented the apartment to a very lovely widow lady, Mrs. Sylvia, and her single daughter who went to business each day. They were ideal tenants, and paid their monthly rent of $50 on time, without fail.

In the spring of 1948 I learned I was pregnant again. As usual, we were happy to learn of the good news, and grateful that Dad would be at home to welcome the new addition. On October 12, 1948, Paul Christopher was born. Because he was born on Columbus Day, Rosemary talked Dad and I into giving him a middle name at birth. All five of our other children had only one name given them at birth. Their second name was given at confirmation. Paul was the exception because of Rosemary’s strong influence. I’m glad she made the suggestion; it was very appropriate.

The town of Malverne was growing like all the other towns after the war. As a result, more and more people were moving in, and school enrollment increased steadily. In the Valley Stream school district it became necessary for the children to attend split sessions – morning and afternoon. Our children went in the morning, but like the rest, were subjected to afternoon sessions as well, according to their scheduled assignments by the administration.

In the District 13 elementary school where our children attended, the enrollment was 1,400 in kindergarten through sixth grade. Besides the crowded conditions, Dad and I objected to the split sessions. Morning classes meant getting the kids on the bus very early, and the afternoon sessions brought them home almost at dusk. This was not acceptable to us, since our children had to walk to and from the bus stop. Daylight hours dwindled as winter approached.

All of this led Dad and I to begin to make plans to make a move from Malverne, particularly while the children were young enough to make the necessary adjustments. We were especially interested in California. Our plan was not to sell our home, but to rent it. This would give us a place to return to, should plans go awry.

Meanwhile, I did my homework for three months, getting information on tile work opportunities for Dad, and rental costs for housing. We were very interested in the areas of San Diego, Santa Barbara, and Ventura, all in southern California, and all considered as prime real estate to this day.

I subscribed to the local newspapers in that area. The information from the papers was very encouraging. Prices of homes and rentals were very attractive and affordable. The real estate boom with its inflated prices had not yet hit California. Anybody who had money to invest at this time could find many lucrative opportunities. As for tile work, it was very much in demand in the construction of homes and buildings there. Many homes were designed in Spanish architecture, in which tile was a notable feature both inside and out.

Dad and I lined up a tenant for our house, a nurse who was very interested. We did not go into details of a lease yet; it was still a bit too soon. The obstacle we had yet to face was to convince Grandpa of the wisdom of the move. Months before we had privately informed Josie of our plans, and asked her to tactfully break the news to him. She was very much in favor of our plan, but in her wisdom, she never gave him the news. She was certain that he would vehemently oppose the idea, and would be very upset with the thought of our leaving.

The result was that even Dad could not muster the courage to tell his father of our carefully laid plans. And so, of course, the only one remaining to carry out the difficult task was myself!

At the opportune time, in the presence of Dad, I carefully laid out our plan, and informed Grandpa of our intentions. His face became absolutely livid, as he stood motionless. When he recovered from the shock of the news, he gave us many reasons why, in his judgement, this move would be a disaster. His main objection was that crossing the country would be very difficult for the children to cope with. I think he had thoughts of us traveling in a covered wagon, like in the gold rush of 1848!

Our reasoning and attempts to diminish his concerns fell on deaf ears. As he was getting ready to leave, he gave us an ultimatum that, to this day, we laugh about. He informed us that if we attempted to go ahead with our move, he would immediately see an attorney and get an injunction against us, citing as the reason “cruelty to my grandchildren”! He then left, and Dad and I laughed at the desperation that Grandpa had developed into a serious legal case. We were upset to see him reacting so badly, but were certainly not worried about his legal threat!

Nevertheless, that evening, after much discussion, we decided to cancel our plans to move. We were both very disappointed of course, but I was very concerned that if we acted against Grandpa’s wishes, he might suffer a stroke from the stress and worry, and I did not want to be the one guilty of bringing that on. Once again, one of the rules I learned as a child was brought into play here; namely, always respect your elders, and never contradict them.

Needless to say, Josie felt badly for us; she knew how much we had counted on going through with our plans. But her hands were tied, knowing Grandpa’s ways as she did. He truly was generous and loving in so many ways, but he was also possessive of those whom he loved dearly – and we were among those he dearly loved.

Dad and I and the children, along with Josie and Grandpa, had visited Freddie and Mary in Shawnee, Pennsylvania several times, spending several days each time we were there. We were impressed with the beauty of the Pocono Mountains, and the expanse of green space. The children had a great time running around freely outside with no limits or barriers, and enjoying the Delaware River which ran along Freddie’s property, about 100 feet from his house.

Observing the favorable reactions of our children after spending visits in Shawnee from time to time, Dad and I once again began to consider plans to make the move from Malverne. But this time the destination we had in mind was Shawnee. The distance between Malverne and Shawnee was not too far, and by car it only took 2 ½ to 3 hours depending on traffic.

As we began to have serious thoughts to make this move, we discussed the idea with Josie and Grandpa. Both were very much in favor of the plan, which was very encouraging for us. Dad and I decided to contact his brother Freddie to ask him if he and Mary would be able to rent us the “chicken coop”, as we called the big barn that Freddie had built. It had been emptied of chickens and eggs, and was now converted into two lovely modern apartments, one on each floor. They were happy to hear of our intentions to move, and reserved the lower floor for us, at $80 per month. The upper apartment was rented to the postmaster of Shawnee and his family.

Freddie also assured Dad that a big tile job that had been awarded to him would be coming up. The job was at the new General Hospital (now Pocono Hospital) in East Stroudsburg. Work was scheduled to begin in the spring of 1950, and from all indications, there was a huge amount of tile to be installed. This would provide ample employment for Dad, for a while anyway, as well as for Freddie and his son Al. We planned to make our move to Shawnee sometime in 1950.

Meanwhile, after many years of bachelorhood, my brother Louie finally made plans to get married. My mother was gone now, my father was in a nursing home, and Louie was living alone in our big house in Lakeview. He planned to sell the house, which had been in his name for many years. (He was the one who financed it, and paid for all necessary repairs.) He and his fiancée, Rose, planned to then rent an apartment.

Their marriage took place in July 1949. As for selling the Lakeview home, they ran into a lot of difficulty. All of the prospective buyers seemed to be black, and were unable to get a mortgage from the various banks. But as they say, things sometimes work out for the best, as happened in this case. My brother Johnny had been looking for some time to buy a home.

Johnny was able to negotiate with Louie on the purchase price, and was successful in obtaining a mortgage. For Johnny, Marie and Johnny Mike, it was a wonderful feeling for them to be moving into their very own home, no longer as a tenant but as an owner. As for Louie and the rest of us in the family, we were overjoyed to know that our homestead was still going to be occupied by the Vecchios for a long time to come. It was truly a happy ending and a happy beginning as well.

On October 1, 1949, we were all saddened to learn that my father had died in the nursing home, having succumbed to complications from prostate problems. The last time Dad and I had visited him, he appeared to be acclimated to the routine and environment of the nursing home, and although he was a bit thinner, he had good color in his face. He enjoyed our conversation, but still exhibited the memory lapses he had suffered over the years.

With my father’s passing, it seemed as if another chapter of the Vecchio family had ended. We still latched on to the beautiful memories of the wonderful years that my mother and father provided for each of us. They would always be ours to cherish and to keep as our very own.

After the Christmas holiday of 1949 had passed, we made definite plans to leave Malverne. We were successful in finding a tenant for our house, and we also allowed Mrs. Sylvia to continue renting the upstairs apartment. Our furniture was carefully stored in the basement, eliminating the cost of storage fees. We decided to have our piano moved, along with boxes of necessary linens, clothing, etc., and hired a professional long distance mover.

Dad had purchased the piano for Rosemary, who had started taking lessons from our neighbor, Mrs. Thomson. ????lived with Mr. Thomson’s elderly mother????? Mr. and Mrs. Thomson loved having Rosemary with them, and would sometimes invite her out to lunch as their guest. They always complemented her for her well-polished behavior at the table. Such comments are always nice to hear. It is gratifying to know that parental lectures concerning good behavior are in reality very productive, and not lost in the process.

In February of 1950, we said our good-byes to Josie and Grandpa and all our friends. We packed ourselves into the car, en route to our new residence awaiting us in Shawnee-on-Delaware, as it was and still is officially called. We couldn’t help but feel the quietness of our three children sitting in the back seat.

I’m sure that many thoughts were racing through their little minds as we drove steadily along the highway. No doubt, they were already feeling their removal from the Malverne where they had grown up, and which they knew so well. Leaving their friends behind was not an easy task, nor was being introduced to a new school.

I held Paul, 16 months old at the time, on my lap in the front seat. Seat belts and children’s car seats were unheard of then. Paul was the only one in the car who was free of all doubts and anxieties.

After we were well outside of the city limits, we soon began to see the green countryside as we motored through New Jersey. This gave our children a lift, and their moods improved noticeably as we drove on. Soon we approached the Delaware Water Gap bridge. Of course their eyes lit up to see the beauty of the carved mountainside which the forces of nature had created, and the famous Indian Head, as it appeared to look down on the impressive Delaware River flowing along with steady force.

After passing Neesen’s post office and store in Minisink Hills, and the Empire Box Company, we turned onto River Road. We then passed Roy’s Tavern, the tiny Shawnee post office, Smitty’s general store, Worthington Hall (which also housed the Shawnee Fire Company), Fred Waring’s very posh Shawnee Country Club and golf course as well as his own private home. All of this was situated only three miles from Freddie and Mary’s house and parcels of land.

Still approaching Freddie’s, we passed Eagle Rock Lodge, Burnley’s house, Hialeah Park (a summer home development along the banks of the Delaware), the Davis home (later sold to the Newcombes), the Irvin Walter farm and sawmill, the Harry Kautz farm, and the beautiful old stone home which was purchased and occupied by the Robackers for the summer months. The Robackers were both teachers and lived near White Plains, NY. A stream, which was fed by an underground spring in the mountain above River Road, flowed under a small bridge and emptied itself into the river.

We then made a right turn into Freddie’s long driveway. There stood his beautiful home, which was now finished, complete with heat, electricity and water. Alongside of this impressive home was the “chicken coop” which would be home to us for the next 18 months. Dad started blowing the horn as we neared the house. By that time Freddie and Mary were already outside, to greet us and welcome us to our new state of residence – Pennsylvania.

The children lost no time in getting out of the car, ready to explore their new surroundings and play with Butch, Freddie and Mary’s dog. He was just a mutt, but well conditioned as an outside dog in all kinds of weather. He was a beautiful dog, and particularly friendly and gentle with children, ours being no exception.

After having lunch with Freddie and Mary, we all proceeded to unpack the car. At night we tried our new beds for the first time, immediately feeling the comforts of home. It had certainly been an exciting, full day, and we were already looking forward to the events and changes the future would be bringing us.

The next matter to be taken care of (of the numerous activities yet to be done) was to register our children for school at the Smithfield elementary school on River Road, about four miles away. Dad and I left the children with Mary for the short while we were gone. We entered the building and proceeded down the hall to the office of the principal, Mr. Bartholomew (who was also the band director). He greeted us warmly and before asking us any questions, offered us a piece of his birthday cake, which was in full view in the center of a table in his office.

We politely accepted his offer and were served coffee as well. While serving us, he suggested that we call him Mr. B, as did everyone else. We were very much impressed with the informality and his friendly nature. Our first question to him was, “Mr. B, how many students are registered here?” to which he quickly replied “202”! Of course we were shocked, comparing this minimal number to the 1400 students enrolled in the Valley Stream school our children had attended. And Smithfield’s enrollment included kindergarten through eighth grade, while Valley Stream’s was K through 6 only.

At that moment we informed Mr. B that Smithfield’s enrollment figure would now increase to 205, and accordingly we formally registered Rosemary (age 12), Sal (10), and Jean (8). We gave him all the necessary transfer information. We were assured that the school bus would make the stop at the top of Freddie’s driveway, and were given the times of pickup and return. As we left Mr. B’s office we thanked him for all his help and for his friendly hospitality.

We left the school feeling very encouraged and optimistic, sensing that this change would be a definite improvement for all three of our children. Classes were not crowded, and all the teachers at the school took a very personal interest in each of their students, recognizing those who had unusual talents and skills, and volunteering extra help to those who needed it.

With preparations made for school, our next task was getting to know and making friends with our neighbors and others we began to meet from time to time. Many of them were natives, having been born in the area and hardly ever leaving it.

Construction of the hospital was on schedule and soon Freddie, his son Al, Dad, and their helpers were very busy installing tile as was contracted. This gave Dad an opportunity to meet many of the local people who were also working on the project doing plumbing, electrical, and other jobs. I had the opportunity to meet many of the parents of children who were in the same classes or activities as our children.

Regardless of who we met or where we met them, Dad and I agreed that, generally speaking, they did not show us much acceptance or signs of approval concerning our arrival in the area they considered “theirs”. It is not uncommon for so-called natives to have this attitude toward newcomers whom they feel are invading their small towns and hamlets. But with patience on our part, and our showing no signs of hostility, we slowly began to gain acceptance of the local townsfolk.

Soon Dad was invited to join the Shawnee Volunteer Fire Department, and later became its president for two years. I was a member of the Fire Auxiliary, which was actively engaged in cakewalks, square dances, etc. to raise money for the fire company. Dad was also a member of the Civil Defense, and we were both active in the Smithfield PTA. We wanted to be a part of the school our children attended, to help them in their transition. They were doing very well, making new friends, as each day went by.

When the hospital job was finished, employment for Dad was terminated. Whatever tile work Freddie had was basically done by Freddie and his son Al. At that time the Poconos had not yet developed into the very busy resort area it now is. Many of the boarding house owners were not interested in making tile improvements, or any other kind of improvements for that matter. They continued to offer their guests a very simple package: clean rooms, good meals, and a large porch well-furnished with chairs and rocking chairs on which to sit and chat for relaxation. This was basically a farm community with just a few famous landmarks such as Sky Top Lodge and Buck Hill Falls, where the affluent spent their summers.

Dad and I were concerned about the lack of employment and its effects on our financial stability. Yet we desperately wanted to remain in Pennsylvania. We were pleased to see the children enjoying the countryside as we did.

So we decided to sell our home in Malverne, and were successful in finding a buyer for the price of $15,750 (with $750 going to the real estate agency as commission). We made a profit on the sale, but of course we did not net the entire amount, as the bank still held a balance on our first mortgage. Meanwhile Dad found some employment with Freddie from time to time. New resorts were beginning to be built, and the tile business was slowly improving.

We began to seriously think about building a new home for ourselves, but needed land on which to build. When we told Freddie of our desire to buy land, he offered to sell us a 16-acre tract of his property, a small part of the large parcel he had originally purchased. We agreed on a price of $1,000, which was reasonable. However, a good deal of the land, which was located across the road from Freddie and Mary, was mountainous. We were able to select a sizeable portion that was fairly level, on which to situate our home.

In the early part of 1951 we began construction of the house, according to specifications drawn by Dad. It was a 51-foot ranch home with three bedrooms, a large living room with fireplace, two tiled bathrooms, and a very large tiled kitchen. (I was always in love with large kitchens, mainly because I grew up in them.) Off the kitchen was a beautiful outside porch that was later screened and enclosed.

The house was constructed entirely of cement blocks on the outer walls, and cinder blocks on the inside partitions. The hip roof, red in color, gave the house beautiful lines. The sides were covered in gray wood shingles, and the front of the house was faced with stone taken from the side of the mountain and painstakingly installed, one by one, by Grandpa. He was our expert, and a truly gifted one at that. In a short while he constructed many beautiful stone creations on our property: a lighthouse, two outdoor fireplaces, several stone-and-tile tables, birdbaths, and a fountain. Everyone who saw his work was impressed.

In later years we would attach a two-car garage next to the kitchen. The grounds were surrounded with lots of white dogwood, oak and cedar trees. But our pride and joy was a very old apple tree that faced our front porch, bearing small green fruit. The apples were great for applesauce, but the rustic country scene it provided was priceless to us. You can imagine our sadness when, years later, it died. We had to have it cut down and removed. It almost seemed like we had lost a member of the family. It was sorely missed.

We found it necessary to apply for a mortgage in order to complete our house. Getting a mortgage from the local banks was no easy task, as they catered mostly to the resort owners. After being turned down by two banks, we obtained a mortgage from the Equitable Life Assurance Society to finish the construction.

By August 1951 we had moved into our new home, using the furniture that had been stored in the basement of our former home in Malverne. What a great feeling it was to enjoy home ownership in the country! Of course there were still lots of things we needed, including carpet for the living room and the installation of built-in furniture that Dad had designed for all three bedrooms and the hall. But we managed to postpone doing all of this until such time when we were financially able.

Some years later, my brother Frank was experiencing serious marital problems with his wife Helen. He asked Dad and me if he could come and live with us. As I have said, Frank and Dad always had a close relationship. I think part of it had to do with the very large role Frank had played in engineering the romance between Dad and me!

Without hesitation we responded in the affirmative, and Frank moved in. He was warmly welcomed and was now a member of our family. He was the same lovable Frank we always knew – full of good humor and so easy to get along with. The children loved him, and there was a special rapport between him and Paul. All of this helped Frank to forget his problems.

Frank was desperately in need of a job, and Dad was able to find him one with Tucker Chevrolet in Stroudsburg, as a mechanic Henry Tucker, the owner, whom Dad knew very well, was looking for a qualified mechanic. He gladly hired Frank and learned right away that he had a wide knowledge of automobile mechanics. Frank was required to supply his own tools, which he did not have, so we provided them for him. In addition he had no car or other means of transportation, so I drove him to and from work each day, a 16-mile round trip. We were happy to help him in any way we could. Dinners were prepared and served on time, and Frank enjoyed the relaxation afterward, sitting in the living room with the family. He truly felt very much at home, and we were happy to have made it possible.

The employment that Freddie was able to offer Dad was minimal, and seemed to diminish even more as time passed. This caused Dad a great deal of worry, as the expenses of maintaining our home, car and family were quite high. Dad’s other brothers, who worked independently, had a great deal of tile installations that were contracted for and yet to be done. Each of them offered Dad a job and agreed to pay him well, if he would consider going to Long Island where the work was located.

Dad and I discussed the matter at great length. After much thought, we agreed that Dad should accept their offer, stay at my brother Johnny’s house (he and Marie were only too happy to help), and from there go to the various tile jobs wherever they might be located. He began his new mission of employment and commuted back and forth to Long Island faithfully for two years.

It was a big sacrifice for both of us. He would leave early each Monday at 4 AM and return on Friday or Saturday evening, depending on how busy the work assignments were. Of course he missed being home with all of us, but he realized his responsibilities for our support came first. As for the children and me, we too missed having him at home. Nevertheless, I did not shirk from taking on the role of a Mom as well as a Dad, just as I had done before when Dad was in the service.

I encouraged the children to continue with their various activities at school and with friends, as they had been doing. Accordingly, as the need arose, I chauffeured them to their designated destinations, day or night, regardless of the distance involved. Fortunately God was watching over me, as I never experienced a flat tire along the various routes, which sometimes included lonely stretches in the middle of nowhere.

Shortly after we moved to Pennsylvania, Josie and Grandpa sold their home on Chestnut Street in Malverne and built another beautiful home on Willow Street in West Hempstead. After a short stay there, we were not the least bit surprised to learn that they wanted to sell that house as well. It was sold more quickly than they expected. Listening to them, it was obvious that they were missing the closeness we had enjoyed living next to each other as we once did, but most of all, I think they missed our children – their grandchildren.

They strongly indicated that they would like to locate near us, whereupon Dad and I offered to give them a parcel of our land next to our house. They gladly accepted. We proceeded to arrange with our lawyer to prepare the necessary deed of conveyance. Very soon, Josie and Grandpa’s house was built, with help from Dad and his brothers. It was a very nice floor plan, consisting of five rooms, a bath and a porch on the upper level, and a garage and laundry room, with full size windows and plenty of light, on the ground level. It was lovely, modest in size, and fairly easy to maintain. But what Josie and Grandpa liked best about the whole arrangement was that they were next door to us once again, and close to their grandchildren. We too were as happy as they were.

When I informed Dad, on one of his weekend visits from Long Island, that I was pregnant, his response reflected much happiness as always, but he was worried. We both questioned whether the commute to Long Island should continue with a new baby on the way. After much discussion we agreed that he would continue to work in Long Island for just a few months longer, and would be back home permanently several months before the baby was due in January. This pleased all of us a great deal. In the meantime, the fact that Josie and Grandpa were near us once again gave Dad much relief from worry, knowing that I was not alone should any emergency arise while he was away.

But our big concern was how Dad would find employment in the Stroudsburg area after he returned. After much prodding from his brothers and with much thought and consideration, Dad made the decision to go into the tile business independently, and to operate from our home. Of course Freddie was not too happy with this idea, but his other brothers encouraged him to ignore Freddie’s objections. Their anonymous advice was, “You have a wife and four children and another one on the way to support. What better way is there to do so than by operating your own business as we’ve been doing? So, just do it. No apologies are necessary.” Josie and Grandpa agreed.

With all this support and encouragement, as well as a used truck that Dad’s brother Frank bought for him to carry tile and materials, Dad officially began his own tile business. We were all excited. In a short time, by word of mouth, tile jobs began to come through. Customers were very satisfied and highly recommended Dad to others who wanted tile installed.

This was most encouraging to both of us. To help in some way, I took on the clerical and bookkeeping work, to eliminate the cost of paying somebody to do it. I phoned in tile orders, took messages, typed letters, estimates and contracts, and filed all records to keep things in order. All in all, Dad and I were truly partners in more ways than one. We could see we were making progress, our business was growing, and we were feeling good!

On January 21, 1954 Peter was born in the middle of a very cold winter. The day before he arrived, we had a very heavy snowfall, but were fortunate to have our neighbor, Herb Theune, plow our long driveway. He realized we were very anxious about having a clear driveway at all times in order to quickly get to the hospital in time for the baby’s arrival. He refused payment from us, and told us that his services were a gift to the new baby. Good neighbors are priceless, and we always appreciated the good neighbors we were fortunate to have in Shawnee.

The children enjoyed their new baby brother, as did we all. Of course Josie and Grandpa doted on our new addition, as grandparents usually do. Meanwhile, our house was always filled with a wide variety of friends and family who were eager to visit us at our home “in the country” and to see our new baby. The Pappalardos and the Vecchios always enjoyed their visits with us, sometimes for weeks at a time, including our wonderful get-togethers for the Thanksgiving holiday. They were impressed with the privacy, the quiet and the green beauty of our valley. It was the perfect place for them to get away from the noise and congestion of the city. They were always welcomed when they came to see us; we were always happy to have them.

Dad began to get more and more work now, doing the big resorts such as Mount Airy Lodge, Paradise Stream Resort Hotel, Penn Hills Lodge, and many others. He often took our son Sal with him on the job on Saturdays or during vacation time. He wanted to interest him in learning the art of setting tile, as Dad had learned it from his father. Sal was very receptive, and learned the tricks of the trade over the years. It was a wonderful father-son experience for both of them. Fortunately, Sal learned the trade well enough to use it as a second income over the years to supplement his teaching salary.

Dad was invited, and joined the Monroe County Master Builders, an association of well-known builders and subcontractors. This was a wonderful opportunity to expand his business contacts, and led to many lucrative tile jobs. Many times Dad would get extra help from his nephews and brothers from Long Island, in order to have all jobs completed on time. He compensated them well, just as they had done for him years before when he worked for them.

Of course I made sure that there was good food waiting for them upon their return from the job to our house, for as long as they stayed. They thoroughly enjoyed the job location “in the country”, and Dad likewise was pleased that the work was completed with the Pappalardo touch of quality, and on time as well. It is no wonder that Dad’s reputation among his business associates and customers was well known, and that he earned a high degree of respect. Hearing the many complements about his work was always wonderful, and made us feel especially proud.

By 1956 Rosemary was ready to graduate from high school. She applied and was accepted to Douglas College in New Jersey. It was around this time that Grandpa began to show signs of failing health – weight loss, poor appetite, etc. We had him see a doctor who prescribed medication, a change of diet, and plenty of rest. Despite the doctor’s orders, he refused to slow down and continued to work outdoors, doing all the things he enjoyed. Meanwhile, we helplessly watched him going down hill as each day passed.

The year 1957 seemed a combination of tragedy and joy. To begin with, Rosemary quit Douglas after her first semester. She was already dating Frank Piazza, and they were seriously planning marriage. For us, it was a blow to see her giving up school and the wonderful opportunities that a college degree would have afforded her. But we began to adjust ourselves to the reality that our firstborn would be leaving us in the foreseeable future to start a life of her own.

In May, Grandpa had to undergo emergency surgery for cancer, which was diagnosed as terminal. He was discharged and sent home to convalesce. After seeing his wan, tired face we knew it was just a matter of time.

Despite Grandpa’s grave illness, Rosemary and Frank’s wedding took place in July. Because of the gravity of Grandpa’s condition, we had arranged a small reception for the immediate families only. It was held at the Rhodes’ Inn on Route 611 in Stroudsburg. Under the circumstances it was the best we could offer to do. Before leaving for their honeymoon, Rosemary and Frank went to visit Grandpa and Josie at home, as they had been unable to attend the wedding. Josie and Grandpa had provided Rosemary with her wedding dress, and she wanted them to see her in it. She looked beautiful.

On Labor Day, Grandpa died peacefully at home. He was almost 80 years old, but his energy and interest in so many things defied his age. It was a blow to all of us, especially Josie. But fortunately, she would never be left alone, as we were next door and ready to answer her every need. She knew she could count on us.

On October 22, 1957 we were blessed with another son, Frank. His birth helped to bring joy to all of us, after the loss of Grandpa. It helped to cheer Josie in so many ways; her interest in the new baby helped remove her loneliness. Dad’s brother Frank and Josie were both honored when we asked them to be Frank’s godparents. Of course Josie was especially pleased, as now she had a godson to think about. She felt that she was needed, which was wonderful for everyone concerned. Frank was blessed with wonderful godparents who showered him with TLC all the way.

To finish 1957 on a high note, Denis Ann Piazza was born in November, making Dad and I grandparents for the first time, and making aunt and uncles of our children, including Baby Frank! God called Grandpa to his heavenly home, but sent us two precious lives in replacement. How lucky we were. We were indeed grateful for our blessings.