This one brings back memories for me and probably for you as well. This is from Jerry Fulchini that briefly touches on his fond memories of his dad, his mom and his childhood memories of visiting relatives and shopping in the North End.....you can hear the love in this very simple message, of a boy for his father.....it speaks of the importance of family.

Vincenzo Fulchini
by Jerry Fulchini

"You were asking about my father. First of all I miss him and my mother very much. (especially on the holidays) But my father like all the Fulchini/Fulchino fathers was a very gentle and caring man. He workerd at Schraffts Chocolates the 3 to 11 shift my mother worked there for a while and Uncle Attlio worked there also. I remember every Saturday morning we took the train to the North End to go shopping on Salem and Hanover St and at Martignetti's. We each have a couple of shopping bags and then back on the train. That was when all the Italians had to go to the North End shopping.. Also every Sunday morning we always visited every body (Your grand parents(whom were wonderful) Uncle Attilio, Uncle Ralph Carrabis, Uncle Ralph in Revere and so on) and at times it seemed a chore but now that they are all gone I really miss it as Im sure you do also. I had a wonderful relationship with my father I could not tell you of one time that my father every spanked me or even raised his voice to me . He was a wonderful father and I miss him dearly. "

The hardest thing to do is to limit myself to just a couple of paragraphs or only (one) thing that’s sticks in my mind about my dad. I guess I can start off by saying that if I had to pick the type of dad I wanted, I would pick him. He is gentle, loving, and always there for me. As a kid, he always worked so he didn’t get to spend the typical Saturdays or Sundays with us playing and going to the movies but we always knew he was there because when he was home, he was totally home. I could never do wrong in his eyes and I don’t believe he ever said “no” to me.. just a shake of my leg and I got what I wanted. But what I have gotten from him is how I wanted to be treated as a wife and mother. I wanted a husband and father just like him.. I never saw him yell at my mother or be disrespectful and that has stayed with me all my life. Granted he was not the “punisher” but I didn’t take advantage of him because I respect him. The best part of growing up with my dad is the conspiracy we had going on against my mother. When dad was home with us and mom was out, as long as we didn’t’ let her know what was going on, we could stay up late, eat in our bedrooms, have friends over, etc. I can’t possibly list only one thing about him growing up but as a mom, he returns the favor to my son. My son and dad have the best relationship, he does everything with Ryan, he bowls, plays catch, goes to the movies, plays cards, plays superheroes; the list just goes on. He couldn’t do that stuff with us because he was too busy supporting the family so that mom was always home.. no day care, no babysitters, just mom and him. So I think that if he could of, he would have been home but we are no worse for wear because of it.. In my sons eyes, papa can do no wrong, they have secrets that they share and all the wonderful stuff that comes with being a grandson to the best papa in the world. Last but not least, I have yet in my 41 years ever met someone who didn’t have a nice thing to say about him and I doubt I ever will! He is someone who is so special to me that it cannot be put into words and the best thing about it is that he is mine! I share everything with him and cannot possibly express the way I feel but to say as far as dads and papas go he is number one.

This next story/remembrance not only highlights how rich and varied the lives of our relatives have been and are, but it also is an example of how a parents life and actions can be fondly and lovingly remembered by their children.

Stephen Fulchino, son of Salvatore and Wilma Fulchino starts us off and it prompted younger brother Greg to add more thoughts on the same subject.

It may not be said in words, but it is clear that there is an unsaid and quiet respect in these passages below:

How Uncle Sal Got into Radio and Met Aunt Willie
by Stephen Fulchino

So, how did Sal get into radio? This is the story as I remember him telling it.

Just after he entered the army in 1943, he got up late and had to find the general aptitude test. He found a line and asked: "Is this the line for the test?" Told it was, he got in the line.

Unfortunately, it was the line for a radio test about which he knew nothing. Fortunately, it was a multiple choice test and he aced it.

Sent to radio school in Biloxi as a teacher, they put him in front of a class. He tried to convince them that he couldn't teach the subject and barely was able to convince them before they tried him for malingering.

After the war, he went to Kansas City to go to radio school on the GI Bill. There he met our mother. After he graduated and they got married, they went to Havre, Montana to work as a radio engineer. They both had radio programs. When she got pregnant, they wanted to live near one of their families. They decided that the Fulchinos were taking the mixed marriage better and moved to Everett.

Sal opened a TV store on Broadway across from the Parlin Junior High. Later he became Chief Engineer at WHIL, now WXKS. He convinced the owner to get an FM license.

Later he became a salesman for General Electronics Labortaries (GEL), which sold equipment to radio stations. He went up the ladder and it became Rust Corporation.

He had a reel-to-reel tape recorder and did some "radio" shows with me.

He hates pork chops but likes ham. I'm the opposite: I gag on ham but like pork chops.

--Steve

and then Greg adds this.....

by Greg Fulchino

Dad was stationed in Kansas during the war. His best Army buddy wanted to go out with this particular girl, but she would not unless she could bring her friend [Wilma] along. The buddy bribed Dad to go along to make it a foursome.

He was sent overseas to the PTO and was stationed on Okinawa where he ran the radio communications outpost. While there he wrote to Mother Dear.

At the end of the war, he did go back to Kansas on the GI Bill and continued to romance Mom. They eventually got married and moved to Havre [have-rah] where he was Chief Engineer at a radio station and sometime DJ [Soothsayer Sal]; Mom also hosted a ladies morning show.

Two interesting stories:
1. While in Kansas after the War, he went to take his 3rd Class Radio Operator's License exam; he finished early and the test-giver advised him to take the 2nd Class ROL test, told him he had nothing to lose. Sal did and still finished before the others so the test-giver advised him to go for the 1st Class ROL and Sal did. He passed all three in one morning. I know he's quite proud of this, though he won't show it.

2. When Sal was a DJ'ing in Havre, he was know as Soothsayer Sal and his theme song was Wimoweh [Weem-Ah-Way], probably by The Weavers, This song was later recorded by The Tokens in 1961 as The Lion Sleeps Tonight. In the mid-1970's when I had a fake radio station that broadcast out of the 3rd floor of our old house onto Hancock Street, my theme song was The Lion Sleeps Tonight. Dad had never told me about his theme song and was quite surprised when he heard what I was using as mine.
I like ham and pork chops.

GWRF
******

Al Fulchino: " after reading this, it ocurred to me that Uncle Sal's accidental entry into the radio business eventually bore more fruit as Uncle Sal's younger brother Al, also got into radio as an engineer for WMLO, WMEX, WHIL and WEEI in great part to Uncle Sal choice......Who knew?"

Thanks Daddy!
by Margie (Fulchini) Rich

Here are some thoughts in my words. From Margie Fulchini Rich (eldest daughter of Sal and Anna):

"Daddy" as I called him and still do at 46, is and always was a great Dad who put family first. Not much of a guy to be out with the "guys'. Happy at home!

I remember him rising early in the morning to buy meat for his store - "Everett Square Personal Market" where my mother and brother worked and helped out.

Memorable Summer vacations at Frank Davis Resort in Connecticut or many trips to New Hampshire, maybe just to have a nice turkey dinner at Hart's Turky Farm Restaurant" or a couple of days at Margate Hotel.

And at Christmas time, I know some years were probably tough with 4 kids and a wonderful and fortunate stay at home mom, we always had plenty of gifts to open from "Santa" - THEY made sure of that !

Also, how important it was to be appropriately dressed and attend mass at St. Anthony's Church in Everett on Sundays, or visit with family on holidays - Uncle Andrew's and Uncle Attilio's just to name a couple.

Now I and my family live 1500 miles away and I find myself missing him and of course worrying about him more than ever - especially with my mothers passing. I guess roles get reversed later on in life.

Thanks Daddy! for all you have done for me to become a good and caring person for my family!!

by Salvatore Fulchini
( Sal #2)
Parents: Attilio Fulchini and Carmelinda Fulchini

Attilio is a man that I admired then and still do. My father ,always respected the older generation, and he taught respect of the other person the way you want be respected. He was respected by every body (more to the point the word is admired ). He never disrespected my decisions and he would give me his advice and then it was up to me to make the right decision .

My father was a nurse when he was in army , so I remember in the old country he gave infusions to people that were sick every morning and that was like parade of people that came in and out my house. When my mother passed way in 1952 my father was in Venezuela to seek a better life for our family, so I was left alone, but my grandfather
Salvatore and uncle Vincenzo look after me till my father game back.

In 1955 we came to America, and we met Uncle Andrew and Aunt Marianna in NY, and I remember Uncle Andrew with his cigar ,and they took us to a Chinese restaurant and we ate peppers with pork .

Every holiday we had make the rounds to every family and wish them happy......
Every holiday I felt could not leave my father alone and me be some place else also I miss him now because I still would like ask him for advice pertaining to lots of question that I never asked him.
For my mother I have been missing her now for 56 years and don't know how to begin to describe the hole that is in my heart.

Salvatore Fulchini

I have so many fond memories of my childhood.

I am the "middle" child of Anna (Forgione) & Salvatore Fulchini - Lisa. I
was the typical middle child and I appreciate now how strict my father was,
it kept me in line. The "twins" were "perfect", Carol was "the baby", and so
my parents had there hands full with me! I will take the credit for
"Americanizing" my parents!

It's hard not to talk about my Mom during this conversation because they
were always together during their 41 years of marriage. My Dad was never out
with his friends, he was always doing something with or for my Mom. My
father was also such a "hands on" father, even with my children - he fed and
changed many diapers! He always taught us, by example, the importance of
hard work, commitment to family, respect for elders, dinner together as a
family, and the importance of our religion (for me, there is not a more
beautiful church than St. Anthony's in Everett). He worked hard his whole
life, usually two jobs, to support the six of us. It was always all about
us. We had plenty of food, nice clothes, toys and fun summer vacations in NH
and CT. He only bought his first "nice/new" car a few years ago!

What I miss most is spending time with the whole family, for holidays and
for no particular occasion or reason at all. It didn't have to be a holiday
to get everybody together. Even though we weren't remotely Irish, we even
celebrated St. Patrick's Day with a traditional Irish dinner! Because of my
Dad being a meat cutter and my Mom such a great cook, we always had the best
in food. I am thankful that I have memories of traditional recipes that I
share with my husband and children today.

Yearly birthdays were a huge celebration with all our family present,
including cousins all lined up on the sofa for a picture. New Year's Eve
was the best! We would go over to Uncle Attilio's and Auntie Ann's early in
the afternoon with our cousins, Sandra and Carmen, and help set up and blow
up balloons. We would then go home, take a nap, and be back at their house
to party with adults all night. We all had such a great time sitting at the
long tables in the basement, eating wonderful food and watching the grown
ups dance. We even got to sip champagne at midnight! I remember visiting
Uncle Andrew and Auntie Fanny which is always a happy memory and thinking
how "American" I thought they were. They were the first Italian's I new who
had a pet, a cat. Then there was Uncle Ralph and Aunt Marianna - that Sunday
visit was always "interesting". I always admired their kitchen table with
the draw of utensils underneath and the beautiful entryway bench/coat rack.
You always got a coin when you left there - a well deserved one for being on
best behavior! My grandparents, Vincenzo and Immacolata Fulchini, lived
downstairs from us. It was fun having Sunday dinner in the basement of
course, with my Uncle Gerard, Aunt Valerie and Marc included. However, you
were tortured, in a nice way, if you sat next to Nonna, you would have to
eat till you exploded. Nonno Vincenzo had a cherry tree with delicious
cherries that he was so proud of. It's hard to imagine that all this time
spent with the "Fulchini" side was also equally spent, if not more, with the
Forgione side! We were never alone!

I think my Dad almost had his first heart attack when I announced that I met
the man I wanted to marry...Jonathan "Goldstein". It was a brief, silent
moment but he recovered quickly. He took to Jon fast and also his family,
and always invited them to join us for holidays. My Dad always made them
feel comfortable and had some good "Jewish" jokes for them. Everyone got
along great which was really important to Jon and I as we started our life
together. 15 years later, when something needs to be fixed, I need a roast
for the holidays, or need advice, Jon will say, "call your Dad".

It was never a chore going to Sunday dinners at my parent's house as an
adult with my children. We all miss that very, very, much. I am so grateful
that my Mom watched me grow into the person I am today - a mother, daughter,
sister. I am so thankful she was able to enjoy her three grandchildren (if
only for 7 years) who meant the world to her! I appreciate so much the time
my children get to spend with their Papa Sal. They get a kick out of his
humor and jokes, they enjoy his ravioli's, and love playing golf with him.

When I think back at grade school and all those Nutella sandwiches and
crushed meatball sandwiches on Italian bread and how I just wanted a bologna
sandwich like all the American kids, I laugh because my children (13, 11,
10) still have never had a bologna sandwich!!! I am so thankful for my Dad
starting his life in America that has transcended into so many opportunities
for me. BUT, I am even more thankful that he is and always was proud of his
Italian heritage/traditions and he instilled that culture upon us. And I
continue that with my children today...

Love you so much Daddy,
Lisa

Two Stories
One about Poppy, the Second about My Father.
by Al Fulchino

Have any of you have seen the movie "A Good Year" with Russell Crowe? I believe you will understand the point of my story/remembrance if you have seen this movie......

Life comes at us so fast sometimes that it is easy to forget the many good things we have been a part of or been fortunate enough to have been around. If You are like me you get caught up in our life and one day turns into a week, then a month, a year and decades pass and before you know it we can forget the wonderful things we have had in our lives. When I think back on my youth I always see one thing....smiles. That may sound silly but it is true. Smiles. My grandparents, my aunts, my uncles, my many cousins, my brother and parents smiled almost ALL the time. It was always like watching a TV show..I could sit off to the side of any room in my grandparents home and one by one or group by group family members would visit....everyone would talk...laugh....share stories....educate the kids a little...play some cards...watch the Red Sox and Bruins..and did I say smile? ! I know life for them was not always perfect any more than it is for us nowadays....but could anything really have been better in our lives than when we were all together?

At Poppy and Grandma's house you knew you were in a safe happy place. They were not rich...but all we needed was there. Love being chief among them. We could count on them caring about us...and we could count on seeing and being around family members who seemed to be born with smiles that were made for each other.

The entire third floor at Poppy and Grandma's house was essentially painted white so it may as well have been heaven for a little boy)..it was a simple place, nothing ostentatious and .Poppy kept the place in shape (everything worked or he could fix it) and I think Grandmas was an endless dusting and cleaning and cooking machine. I smile just thinking back on these very small things. Who could forget the third floor on Hancock Street? The view from the porch was like being on top of the world for a little kid and this is where I got to learn many things about people and myself, (I even learned that I needed glasses from the that third floor porch that overlooked Uncle Sal's house and on into Boston)...this is where so many family talks were held.

Hancock Street is where we would run lemonade stands, where Dad would play endless cops and robbers games with us, along with wiffle ball over at Greg's house and the fastest paced street hockey games in the world were played over there as well. This also is where Andy, Greg and I would wreak havoc on unsuspecting people waiting below for the bus...we used to take advantage of the soil in Poppy's basil planters and *surprise* the poor soul waiting at the bus stop. We used to laugh so hard when we would drop dirt bombs down on the sidewalk below and make people look all around......The good news ( I can say this now) is that, we *hellions* as Aunt Mimmie would call us, is that we knew Poppy could draw a line on our fun with a simple look...maybe once in a while he would show us the belt...but he never used it..he never had to....we respected the message from the man and we respected him.

Hancock Street is where we ran our table hockey league...where we leared to make money by sweeping the stairs (25 cents), wash windows etc...its where we played ball in the street...its where we wreaked general havoc.....and always always in the background was Pop, Grandma and Aunt Mimmie ( I should mention Uncle Nicky but I will wait for Cousin Rosalie to tell you about our famous Uncle :) ) Anyway, as I was saying, in the background were our grandparents and great aunt....I say in the background because we were busy being kids....but in reality they were in the foreground I just never realized it AT THE TIME....they created, protected and maintained the atmosphere that made for a safe happy environment for us. It is memories and feelings about these things that led me years ago to start making wine on my own...as my brother Andy recalled recently, he would go down the cellar to retrieve something and there was that "smell" of Pop's wine in the cellar. And they were the ones that made it seem important and right to visit all the relatives around Everett and Malden, and who could forget the hill in Revere where we would stop first at Uncle Ralph's house and then on down the line!

Poppy always sat at the head of the table, typically I sat opposite him at the other end( I don't know why but I know I liked it and something just felt right about it), Grandma was to his left and we had better be ready to eat when he was :), and my dad, Andy and Greg would often sit down to so many meals that I cannot even try to count them....we would talk and talk..laugh and laugh...this is where we would learn to dunk our bread! It is amazing how many times you can dunk the very same piece of italian bread into soda and have it still hold together :) And its where Poppy would get his wine and Grandma would yell ( not really yell) at him to cut it with some Orangeade. Do you remember Louise's Ravioli's? That was a staple for us as was the Italian Bread from Mandolese's or Piantedosi's....3 for a buck, pick it up often on a Sunday morning along with at least two Boston Sunday Papers (remember there was the Globe, The Herald, The Record American and even the Boston Post if I recall correctly), also maybe a stop at Dunkin's or Mike's, or Donut Villa on Ferry Strret and then on up to Hancock St...life was so great! Poppy and Grandma had the Pelco Company people from Everett deliver three types of soda to the house and ONLY three. It was Orangeade, Root Beer and Ginger Ale for Grandma. We would dunk so much bread into the soda that we often had no room for the good food...but then that is what kids do :) And even more importantly things like this give parents and grandparents purpose right? :)

As I get older the strangest little things force me to recall the simple good things otherwise forgotten and because this is the part of the purpose of the family website I share this....this spring in the greenhouse we planted some Greek Basil...about 10 trays I think...so it would have been about 80 plants...no one really grows this stuff and I think we did just because we are never impressed with the typical sweet basil found in garden centers and supermarkets....well one day in late April I was carrying some tray of flowers down the aisle...and what do I smell? Before I even turned around to see what was causing this smell, I though to myself.....'that's Poppy's basil! I have never smelled it anywhere else in the world...so I turned around to see with my own eyes what exactly I was smelling and sure enough it was the basil we had planted...looking back I never thought much about what he planted...that is just what he did..he planted...he fixed things...he made wine....ran some beer during prohibition, so I hear :) (whoops did I say that?)...when I was a young man of 5, 6 or 7 I recall he made jugs of homemade bleach to earn some money...one dollar for regular strength and two bucks for the extra strength...I was amazed that he could mix these batches up himself very simply in his basement in these heavy glass gallon jugs ( I thought they were so heavy back then) and then he would take me on his little route ( the '64 Plymouth Belvedere's trunk loaded along with some in the back seat)...and he actually got money for this!...I thought that was so cool and I wanted to be like him....he even liked to watch Westerns like I did and writing this makes me recall something else..Pop and Grandma always were generous with us at the holidays but something I had forgotten about is worth sharing...one day out of the blue Poppy gave me three Western books as a gift...they were old, and well read Zane Grey novels, but they were his and I recall not knowing what to say because he could be a man of few words sometimes with outward affection....but I recall the moment and seeing him when he handed them to me....he was sharing something he loved that was inside him with little old me..it was his way of trying to tell me about something he was interested in.........the only thing I will ever hold against him is making us kids watch just a bit too much of the Lawrence Welk Show when it came on :) :)

I share all of this because as I time passes I now have just begun to realize how much I loved being up on Hancock Street with Poppy and Grandma and all the relatives who came through like it was a train station. The stories I have about Poppy is what I remembered and what I witnessed. There are more that I am sure I can add as time goes on. He reigned over a safe loving place. He showed his love for his wife by doing some of the simplest things...like washing the dishes after a Sunday dinner when he didn't have to nor did she ask. I recall how that struck me when I first realized that he was doing this ALL THE TIME...each Sunday.

Poppy, I love you and miss you and what you stood for in my life and I appreciate the many good memories that you may not even have known that you were giving me.

Now a Story about my Dad ......

Many of you may recall that near the Malden Hospital was a wonderful hill for winter sledding that is still in use today and nearby was a large pond with a fountain in the middle (it may still be there) where people could ice skate. Well, one winter when I was somewhere around 11 or 12 my dad took us ice skating...if my memory serves me well it was late March or very early April and things had started to thaw. We probably were pushing it a bit even being out there...but there was still a patch of good ice to skate on at one side of the pond where there was some shade...much of the rest was treacherous to say the least. Andy must have been 7 or 8 and Greg 8 or 9. We were playing some hockey and having a generally good time when another boy from Malden came by on his skates and wanted to play...so we all played together until mid afternoon when we decided it was time to call it a day...the boy who joined us started towards his stuff on the opposite side of the pond...we cautioned him that it was better to walk *around* the pond on the asphalt walkway, but he was stubborn and he wanted the quick way.....and sure enough when he was about 75 feet away from us we heard crack and the sound of water...he had gone through and was grasping and flailing for some ice to grab onto. The fire dept had left a ladder on top of the ice nearby in case of such accidents...and to this day I can recall my dad's face as evaluated the situation. He knew full well that rescuing or even trying to rescue this boy could put himself in jeopardy and he was naturally worried about Greg, Andy and myself being alone. But the overwhelming responsibility he saw in that moment was that someone needed help and he felt the call to do something.....he made his way over to the ladder and that itself was a precarious thing because the ladder was also resting on very thin ice...I recall him laying flat on the ice to spread his body weight and then calling me over to stay within reach of his feet...telling me also to lay flat also to hold his feet......ME? I was scared to death .....but I did as I was told...the young boy was screaming louder and louder for help and crying and flailing....my father reached that ladder and then was able to get it over to the boy and pull him to safety and save his life....and as we came to the shoreline, the police came by with an ambulance...apparently someone had seen the commotion and called the police. The boy was being cared for by the EMT's ( I don't think we called them that back in the *old* days they were just the ambulance guys they didnt ned gloves to protect them because we had far fewer of the nonsense we now have and I like it that way :) ). And the police kept saying that the boys mom had been reached and she wanted to thank my dad.....dad politely declined any credit....and we went on our way....It was as if nothing had happened...but it did. Our Dad actually saved a boys life. And he never mentioned it ever again. A lot of people would...and they would have a right to do so...but he never ever did. That makes him a hero to me. And Dad, I love you also and the good things you did and the intentions you had regarding Andy and I. (more in the future).

Tamia and Charlie, then Vick and Eva and their kids...all down hill from one another on Kilburn Street...then over to Margie and Al's on Hancock Street.

There are so many good memories of spending time with Chrissy, Anne Marie, Paul, Tommy and Ralph...It was always fun and the boys had such great senses of humor...quick witted and funny like my brothers were...We played school in their basement where they had a chalkboard ready at all times, their dad, Al, being a teacher and later Revere High School's Principal...It was the right thing for them to have a “real” chalkboard which we thought was pretty cool! Relatives were always so glad to see us...We, too, were greeted with big smiles, warm smiles, more smiles and hugs...and also a few pinches on the cheek from Aunt Tamia as she enthused about how much we'd grown! The Fulchino's were warm, loving and joyful...I remember, so well, crossing the Mystic River Bridge on Sundays as we journeyed over to Revere. The hum of the grids on the pavement singing in my ears, indicating we were close to grandpas'... My dad, being an Obstetrician had a hard schedule of being on call it seemed continually (women are always having babies no matter what season or hour it is!!)...so he was not always available on weekends, but Mom would faithfully take us whether he was able to go or not. Grandpa, too was consistently cheerful, warm and excited to see us... enthusiastic and optimistic were the traits I remember about Grandpa Fulchino...he was so proud of his garden and eagerly took us on a tour each time showing us the progress of his fruit trees and flowers. He made a small patch of land in the city look like an oasis...and it was probably all organic, now that I think of it! Nonny canned spaghetti sauce and home made chicken soup, and other things that she kept in the kitchenette in their basement. I remember loving to eat her Pastieta. It was the best! And her pepper and egg sandwiches were out of this world. When you stayed over her house she made you eat a five course breakfast. Not just toast and eggs OR cereal but toast, eggs, bacon, AND cereal, And fruit, And a glass of orange juice, And a tall glass of milk...She made sure we got enough! Later on the same day, we would ride to an Italian restaurant in Grandpa's turquoise and white '50 something chevy that didn't have a scratch on it and was sparkling clean at all times! He was always buffing it up in his driveway. If Nonny and Grandpa got into a little disagreement the language suddenly became Italian...so we had no clue what was being said... my sister and I would chuckle about that later! Disagreements, however, were few and far between and it was always a pleasant experience being there.

My dad was an ethical man with character and true values...I think that was the best legacy he left to me personally. His honesty and integrity as a physician and father left a strong imprint on me... probably on all of us. He, as all the Fulchino's, was a family man that just enjoyed being home with his family. He liked to listen to his record album collection in the den/study of our home in Milton...We grew up with Eddie Arnold, Patsy Cline and so many rich country artists...My sister and I loved to play piano and took classical lessons...but listening to the music in Dad's den deposited in us both a great love and appreciation for all kinds of music. Now, my own son is developing that same love and skill in the world of music. I remember Aunt Anna, Dad's sister, who worked as a Public Relations specialist for RCA and Columbia Records...used to send us 45 record samples to play on our 45 player....Perry Como singing “Catch a Falling Star” and “Hot Diggity Dog Ziggity” Those early years and latter years were always rich with music. In elementary school years at our home in Milton, Dad ventured out and bought an old fashioned roll player piano...It was so much fun pushing the pedals and singing as a family...songs like “Roll Out The Barrels,” “ My Blue Heaven,” “Tiptoe Through The Tulips (before Tiny Tim!) and more... So many songs I never would have known about had it not been for Dad's big and varied interest and collection. The den was a cozy place to hang out. One wall covered with books, and the room itself often filled with rich wonderful music. Dad loved relaxing in there in the evening listening to his favorites. We all enjoyed it. He also enjoyed joking and would like to pull a practical joke on you now and again. One time he stood at the top of our driveway as we were walking down the road to catch a trolley to school at St. Marks in Dorchester where we still attended after moving to the suburbs. He called loudly to us, urgently, as if something was wrong or we had forgotten something important...So we came running back to see what was wrong almost in a panic ourselves. When when we arrived, panting and out of breath, he would ask “ How far would you be now if I hadn't called you?” We wanted to clobber him!

The other wonderful memory I have is our summer cottage in Pembroke, Mass. It was a little log cabin cottage with a sign on the front that said “Montclair” (The original owners, being from Montclair, New Jersey).

The cottage was nestled in the pine trees in a section called “Oldham Pines” and our times there were magical and enchanting. We had a big stone fireplace and we loved to sit in front of the fire and watch the flames dancing and marvel at all the colors. Often times, Aunts and Uncles from Mom's side came and played card games like Tripoli, throwing pennies into the kitty and we kids would play in and around it all...always feeling safe and warm (and accepted since we got some of those pennies shuffled over to us)...It was a secure feeling having so many loving happy people around. Dad was not always able to come because it seemed he was always working (he sacrificed a lot for his family...because he was diligent in his profession). Mom sacrificed a lot too since she had to do hard things with six kids when he was not always there to help. We boiled water to take baths there the first few years.... The walls between the bedrooms did not reach the ceiling so it was perfect for throwing socks over to the boys side and vice versa...We had a of fun with that! There were always cousins sharing it with us...Al and Margie's family shared it too and there were many wonderful barbecues, playing badminton and fun times jumping off the raft out in the deep part of Oldham Pond where the bigger cousins were (Ralphie, Paul and Anne Marie etc.) ...Having lots of cousins around was the highlight of my childhood. We even went to our cousins hockey games as if they were our brothers...great memories again! I thank God for the wonderful rich heritage I had growing up. Lots of extended family...like a clan or a tribe! Family was an understood way of life...it was normal to have lots of aunts, uncles, cousins and siblings around and lots of joy and smiles. I have rich memories because of this wonderful family heritage and am pleased to be able to pass this legacy onto my own children.

The second dad that I'd like to share about is the wonderful husband God gave me. He knows just what we need, and my husband Gerry has been not only a great husband but a wonderful father to our kids (and to me, I might add!!). He has a strong work ethic also and will go to work even if he is sick. He is supportive, warm and engaging with our children. My daughter being mildly autistic has grown so much and benefited greatly by his warm, kid friendly humor and wit..he takes the time to engage her, one on one, meaningfully... keeping her “tuned in” so to speak. He brings out the best in her. Both my children have a strong sense of who they are, I believe because of the love they have received from their father. You can't put it into words so much but you know that it's there! He is a naturalist and as we go on nature walks as a family, he can name every tree, bird, and flower that we see. It is so good for Rachel especially, since she loves to categorize things. He has taught my son how to hunt deer and catch salmon (which he is excellent at) and has helped my him make that passage into manhood. I joke about him being a kind of Grizzly Adams type of guy who could help us survive if we were stuck somewhere...He knows how to live off the land

and is also a great gardener which has again taught my kids a lot and reminds me of Grandpa. “Where seldom is heard a discouraging word” fits this dad and his humor and wit have kept us all laughing even through difficult times. We have been tight knit because of the love we share. I am blessed. Family is such a wonderful thing...the way God meant it to be. I am so glad I grew up with such a rich heritage...families that stayed in tact and stayed true to one another over the years. It is the basic unit of society so as an adult I appreciate even more the foundation I have received and understand the implications of what role the family plays in society in general...the bigger picture!

One of my favorite songs to play on the piano when I was young was Mendelssohn’s
Song Without Words volume called ‘Sweet Remembrance’…it is “virtually a song with simple arpeggio accompaniment, a smooth legato and a well-projected melody that is required throughout.” It is described as a piece that focuses mainly on melody with a very important supporting base. Although I hadn’t mastered it technically, I played with heartfelt emotion because the piece was so beautiful …

With that in mind I am brought back to childhood memories of my Dad…varied in
rhythm and tones much like that piece of music…I am inclined to see my father as that
‘very important supporting base’ to our family and the varied melodies and rhythms of our lives.

For me personally the first and most poignant memory I have is going to the Vet with Dad, just me and Dad and our dog Fluffy. The dog was very sick and that was my first introduction to the sterile antiseptic setting of an exam room and the concept of medicine. All my senses took in the environment, the shiny stainless steel exam table, the smell of anesthetic, the white lab coats, and the glass cabinets with supplies, as I pondered this difficult drama with our helpless little pet. But what I really became aware of at that early age of 4 or 5 was the compassion in my heart that I felt for our puppy. I was deeply concerned for the health of our dog and wanted desperately to help him. It was after we left, without our dog, that dad told me he had to be put to sleep. I wasn’t able to process that part of the drama then but my heart was moved with compassion for that frail and helpless little puppy…I would never forget that moment.

Later in those early years, Diane (my twin sister) and I went to the corner grocery store to get a few groceries for Mom just before dinner. Diane carried the bag and dropped a bottle of soda on the sidewalk on the way home. She cried and screamed at the cut and the gushing blood from her hand. I was unable to help and felt terrified for her. When we got home minutes later Dad took her and sutured her deep laceration right there in our kitchen… we all sat in wonder at the kitchen table trying to eat our dinner as Dad took care of the trauma…I was very distracted, watching the progress of this minor surgery taking place right in front of us, concerned for the crying of my twin sister. Again my compassion and desire to help, to relieve suffering, was being birthed during this early phase of my childhood.

There were other memories too, but those two seem to have generated in me the gift of compassion that I believe God gave me through my father and motivated me to enter into nursing as a career choice later on. Dad’s capability as a physician and his ability to handle a traumatic event like that must have impressed me on the deeper levels of my being. I am grateful for that impression and his influence on my character over the years,
and especially for his support as a dedicated family man and good provider.

I also have sweet remembrances of Grandpa, with his energetic enthusiasm. He was a prolific gardener; his yard was overflowing with flowers that cascaded over the cement wall of his driveway. I remember being enchanted with the variety of colors and of flowers. Grandpa couldn’t contain his enthusiasm as he would show my Mom and us kids the different flowers, pointing out the unique qualities of each one.

I also have a sweet remembrance of Grandpa at 80+ years of age coming to our home in Milton, Ma all the way from Revere on Saturdays, in his classic ‘57 white and turquoise Chevy to help my Dad landscape our yard. He, Dad and my brothers would be out there all day weeding, whacking, trimming and planting. He passed on his skills to my Dad and my brothers and loved every minute of it! Mom would serve them lunch, roasted peppers with ham and salami sandwiches and orange soda. Grandpa’s hands were notably arthritic and also very tanned from his working outdoors. He was a hard worker even in his 80’s. He was good hearted and exceptionally cheerful at all times. What a gem!

I could go on but these are a few of the ‘sweet remembrances’ I have that restore me and encourage me as I help those in need along the journey of my life. For me, life is a song with variations in tones and rhythms that cultivate the seeds of love in our hearts that continually bring us closer to God…and I thank God for the gift of my father and for Grandpa…Dad for inner strength and compassion I received through him and Grandpa for an appreciation of the glorious gardens in life and especially for his uncontainable enthusiasm and cheerfulness, something I will never forget.

What sweet remembrance!