Ahhh...Boys

I love this picture above - taken in 1952 at Sandy Cove. I think it totally epitomizes what it must've been like for my grandma to raise 4 little ones, including 2 very ornery little boys. Carl's running off when she's just trying to get a cute picture of the 4 of them. Can't get them to all stand still and look at the camera. Haven't we all been there, moms? Anyway, Dad told me a very short, but funny little story about how they had a sun lamp growing up and that he and Carl would just stare at it until they couldn't see. Why you ask? Because they were told not to. Sounds like many of the stories I've heard from him. Doing things just because they weren't supposed to. Even more shocking is the fact that aren't both completely BLIND!

Payback...

I was talking to my dad about what his sisters told me about the Ramar incident. He never realized that his sister Debbie had gotten the strap as well after that whole chopping at the doorframe thing. But, that reminded him of how he once got the strap because of something she and Carl had done. One day dad, Carl, and Debbie were playing in the bedroom downstairs and were told to stay in the house until their dad got home. Well, Carl and Debbie decided they didn't want to do that, so they snuck out the bedroom window and ran away. Dad said to them they weren't supposed to leave, but they didn't listen. He decided he'd be the good one and stay like he was told. For once in his life, he was being obediant. ;-) He later fell asleep and forgot about the whole thing until his dad got home and they came looking for his brother and sister. They asked where they were and he told them they went out the window. "WHAT?! Why didn't you stop them?" they asked and dad got in huge trouble and got the strap for not making them do what they all were told to do. Much later, when Carl and Debbie finally got home, his mom was so relieved, that she welcomed them home with open arms. Yes, he said, they had to go to the beds early or something, but so did he, for being part of the whole thing. Plus, he was the one who had gotten the strap as well! So, I guess the Ramar thing just gave him a bit of payback. ;-)

Lost Treasures

When my dad was little, he and his brother had these really great trucks that they played with. When a store downtown, across from Wallace's was being built, they saw that there were huge mounds of dirt that they had dug up one day. So, dad and Carl went there with their trucks and cars and played most of the day on those big mounds. After a while, they realized they had to get home for dinner and left without their trucks. After dinner, they remembered that they had forgotten them! When they voiced their fears to their mom and dad, they were told they'd have to wait until morning to go get them. So, they went to bed that night, anxious to get back and retrieve their precious toys. As soon as they were able, they ran down to the spot where they had played the previous day and found the mounds of dirt had been carted away!! Carted away along with it, were of course their cars and trucks. So, years from now, maybe one day, the place where those piles were dumped, someone will find those tin trucks and cars from the 50s and count it as a lost treasure. A treasure mistakingly left by 2 little forgetful boys.

He Meant Business!

As I mentioned before my dad's mom was italian. Her mom and dad and 2 older sisters came over to the US shortly before she and her other sister and brother were born. They grew up in the southern part of Philadelphia. His Uncle Joe Sbaraglia (his mom's brother) was the only boy in a family full of girls. His mom loved him deeply and it's obvious he loved her as well. Well, once such occasion of that love and protectiveness was made known when dad was in his young teens, around 14 or 15. His Uncle Joe, a Philadelphia fireman, had had a heartattack and wasn't working for a short while, so he had come to the house to do some painting for my grandma. He was up on a ladder, painting away, while my dad and his brother Carl watched. Grandma came in and told the boys to do something. Dad doesn't remember what they said back, but apparently it was a smart remark of some kind, because after his mom left the room, Uncle Joe very calmly climbed down the ladder, got right in their faces and said, "If you ever talk to my sister like that again, I'll take you outside and beat your ass." hahaha Sufficed to say, my dad and my Uncle Carl never again disrespected their mom in their Uncle Joe's presence again! You don't mess with an italian guy from south philly!!

**Thanks to my Aunt Judi for providing this picture of Uncle Joe when he was painting that day. Can't believe you had actually had this picture!! :-)

Pretty in Pink

This is a picture of my dad in 8th grade. As you can see, he's sporting some pretty fine grey and white glasses there. Amazingly that was a step up from his previous set. When he was in 6th grade, his dad took him to get glasses. Back then the style was to get dark-rimmed glasses, black glasses, but what did my grandpa get him? Pink, turtleshell glasses. Yes, his 12 yr old son had to wear pink glasses. Now, apparently this was not uncommon for him. Gramps bought my dad several PINK things. When dad wanted a radio for his birthday, gramps went to the local store where his friend Mr. Feldman worked and asked him if he had any radios that were cheap, because they were pretty poor growing up. Well, he just so happened to have a nice pink radio in the store that no one wanted, so guess what dad got for his birthday that year? A pink radio. He even got a pink record player. Pretty hot stuff!! But, to have to wear pink glasses to school, in front of his friends, was something he wasn't thrilled about. The reasoning behind the pink glasses was because his dad was afraid that the black rimmed glasses would interfer with his line of vision and distract him. So, if he was wearing a more flesh-colored pair, it would be a clear shot for him. Only my grandpa would think of something like that. :-) Thankfully at the end of his 7th grade year, he happened to find himself in line between Gerald Rucci and Don Pohlig when they got in an argument and someone threw a punch that hit dad right in the face, breaking his glasses. Now, he wasn't thrilled that he got punched in the face. It hurt and was completely embarrassing, but at least he was now rid of his pink glasses. So, gramps, ever the thinker, got him the grey and white pair, so once again, the frames wouldn't interfere with his line of vision. I'm guessing this is why he didn't date until he was 37. ;-) Just kidding dad. You were a hottie! Really. Not many guys can say outloud that they were once 4'6", pink-wearing, bronchial drop-drinking, 13 yr olds. Oh, and of course, friends with Clauken...... Can't forget Clauken.

More on Ramar

I got more information tonight about the story I mentioned briefly below about how dad and his younger brother Carl were taking knives to the doorframe. Here's what dad told me tonight...

On Sunday nights, there was church and sometimes they would get to stay home while either his sister Judi or Debbie watched them. The infamous night of "Ramar of the Jungle" was just one of those nights. Dad said he was around 10 at the time, which meant Carl was a year or so younger. He said looking back, he thinks they were a little tipsy when it happened, because they had been drinking some bottles of bronchial drops that Gramps had, as well as some alfalka (he said it's some kind of energy drink that was almost pure alcohol). When I asked why in the heck they would be drinking bronchial drops, he said it's because it tasted good. Weirdos. Anyway, they got it in their head to pretend to be Ramar of the Jungle. Some television show they watched back then. Judi was at church, so Debbie was watching them and he said they could get away with a lot with her. So, they took out butcher knives and started hacking away at the doorframe of the kitchen. Debbie sat in fear on the counter in the kitchen, thinking her brothers had lost their minds. He said he's shocked they didn't somehow cut themselves or each other they way they were swining them around! Then his older sister Judi came home and saw what they had done. Carl started chasing her with the knife, so she ran to the church to get grandma. When they saw she had left to tell on them, they hurried and put the knives away and gathered up all the chunks of door that were on the floor and tried to pretend nothing had happened. Grandma came home and saw what they had done, but didn't do much at that point, because some of the church members were coming over. He says he doesn't really remember much about what happened after that. He just knows that somehow his dad found out and that they were severely punished. Guess he blocked that out. That or BLACKED out, one of the two. So, that's the full story as he remembers it. About how they chopped through the doorframe jungle one drunken night when he was 10. Oh, and of course, it was all Carl's idea. Right? ;-)

My Dad's Family

Dad has been really busy this week, so I haven't had a chance to chat with him about any new stories. I have stories in my brain that I've heard a million times that I could post about, but I'd rather wait until he tells me again, so I can give the details he remembers that I probably have forgotten. So, I thought I'd just share a bit about his family. That way, if you don't know much about where he came from, this could fill in the pieces a bit. :-) Dad was the 3rd child, the first boy, out of a family of 6. His mom was born of italian immigrant parents and was a petite, sweet woman. His dad was a pastor at the same little church behind their house for over 50 yrs. Apparently they thought they weren't going to be able to have children, but after 6 or so years of marriage, they had Judi. Then I believe 3 years later came Debbie, then right after that was dad, and right after that was Carl. I'm sure they were surprised to end up with such a brood! :-) They lived in that house until my Grandpa, dad's dad, became unable to live alone around the age of 88 and that's when he moved to NC to live with Debbie. That house was a little house. I remember staying there as a kid and not realizing how small it really was, but when I went back as an adult, well, it was tight. Especially for a family of 6! I remember dad taking me through the house many times and telling me stories of things that happened there. He showed me where he and his brother Carl took knives and pretended they were cutting through the jungle, hacking away at the doorframe leading into the kitchen - only to be caught and getting spankings later. ;-) He showed me his old desk that was upstairs in the back room, filled with things from his high school days. He even took us to his elementary school, which was right across the street, and let us see where his classrooms were and told us who his teachers were. He showed us the spot where he had been put in the corner when he'd get in trouble. He told us how he'd spit on the wall to see which spit mark would roll down the farthest on the wall. Nice, huh? All stories that I'll probably ask him to expound on as we get farther into this blog. But, I thought I'd share a bit of where he came from, who his family was, so as you read these stories, they'll make a bit more sense. The picture above I'm guessing my grandpa took. Debbie's on the far left, then Judi, dad, and Carl sitting on Grandma's lap. I'm guessing he's about 3 or 4 in that picture. Is it just me or can you see that ornery little glint in his eye, even then? ;-)