This was a short story I wrote for a short story challenge on 360. I was thinking about it, so I thought I'd repost it.
This Week’s Challenge: This weeks challenge is to write a short story that begins with the following lines: “Where to begin…I shall begin in those years that left their calling card in the things we had, which were battered and familiar; in what we believed, which was reassuring and unchanging; and in what we said, how we felt, and how we treated one another”…from Freddy & Fredericka by Mark Helprin
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Where to begin…I shall begin in those years that left their calling card in the things we had, which were battered and familiar; in what we believed, which was reassuring and unchanging; and in what we said, how we felt, and how we treated one another.
We never had much growing up, but then we never needed much. At least, that's what we believed, and so it was true enough for us. Papa's work at the steel mill was subject to down times, when they were retooling for some new product. Thus, our income had a tendency to wax and wane. It never seemed like hardship, though, because when Papa was off work, he always made sure to spend time with us, sharing stories of The Old Country, telling us all about relatives that we had never met, about his hometown, Giffoni Valle Piana, and about his boyhood friends. He had been in America a long time now. While he often talked about going back for a visit, the time and the funds just never seemed to be there. Still, he tried to keep it all alive for us, the country of his birth and our heritage. What stories he would tell and what songs he would sing to us!!!
Mama always kept everything running smoothly - in the good times and in the lean times, too. She was so creative and wonderful a cook that we were never really aware when she was trying desperately to stretch the food budget until the next payday. In fact, some of our favorite dishes were those she invented to do just that. Of course, there was always pasta e fagioli (pasta with beans), that was a staple and how we loved it. There was also pizza, naturally, made with her loving hands, sometimes with only a little cheese and some basil on it. Then, she borrowed a recipe from a Polish friend for halushki... that's a sort of potato dumpling with a little onion in it which she then tossed with cottage cheese or ricotta and butter and seasoned with salt and pepper. They were so delicious!!!
Whatever she cooked for us, she always added a generous measure of love. I swear we could taste it, and I remember it still. Even if cinnamon toast and cocoa were all we had for dinner, she could make an occasion of it. She would bring it into the parlor and we would have it in front of the fireplace. Then, we would tell stories before we went to bed, with everyone taking a turn and adding to the story we were making up. And, always, hugs and kisses all around before we went up the stairs to sleep.
Both Mama and Papa put family first! From my first breath, I remember them saying "Friends may come and go, but your family is always your family." Family meant that you would never be alone, never in need of a place to stay and a good meal, never wanting for someone to talk to about a problem. They were always there and always ready to listen to whatever we wanted to tell them, little childish secrets or later more grown up concerns. We always knew we could count on them and each other!!
I remember each of them saying to us in different ways, "Treat everyone as you would like to be treated." Or "Never ever steal from another." "Always be kind to everyone." "You must always look out for the ones littler than you." All the little sayings that expressed what they felt was important in life. None of them ever had to do with making a lot of money or being famous. They were always about being a good person, an honorable person. I can hear them even today in my head, and they always bring a smile to my lips.
And, oh, how Papa loved Mama!! He would come in from work, obviously tired, but when he saw Mama, a smile would light his face and he would come to give her a hug and a kiss, running his hand down the side of her face with such tenderness. Sometimes he even would grab her and whirl her around the kitchen in a polka or two-step, saying to us, "See, your Mama is still the most beautiful girl in the world and such a marvelous dancer, too!" And she would threaten to hit him with her wooden spoon and say "Be off with you, I've dinner to attend to." But we could see the sweet smile tugging up the corners of her lips and knew that she loved him just as deeply. And that was how we grew up, cocooned in love and security.
One morning before school, my brother Gino and I were playing on the school yard when we heard someone yelling and crying "No, no, stop it, stop it!!!" We turned around to see what was going on and saw an older kid, the bully of the school, taking a smaller first grade kid's lunch money. The little kid kept on yelling and the bully kept on getting meaner and hitting him. Gino and I ran over there. Gino told the bully to stop, but he wouldn't. Angry and frustrated, Gino pulled the bully's arm, and the bully hit him then and yelled at him, "Go away, you poor white trash Dago, what can you do, who do you think you are? You got nothin' and you'll never have nothin'. Just get out of here!" Well, Gino wasn't going to stand for that, so he hauled off and hit the bully while I pulled the little kid out of the way. "Yeah," said Gino, "not so brave or tough when you're up against someone your own size, are you, huh?"
Of course, wouldn't you know it, that was the moment a teacher picked to finally show up. "What's going on here?" he demanded. All of us started talking at once. "Wait, wait, one at a time. You, go first." He was pointing to Gino. So, Gino explained what had happened and that he hit the bully to make him stop hurting the little kid. Looking to me now for confirmation, the teacher asked, "Is that true?" "Yes," I said, nodding vehemently. "That's exactly what happened!" "Well," he said to the bully, "And what's your excuse this time? I know you'll have one, you always do." "Well, well....ummm...." stammered the bully. "Never mind," said the teacher, "Save it for the Principal. I'm sure he'll be interested to hear all about this."
So, off we were marched to the Principal's office. He listened to each of us, then said he would have to call our parents to come down. I think he expected Papa to scold Gino for fighting, but of course he didn't. Papa stood right there and told the Principal that he should give Gino a Good Citizenship Award instead of detention, because Gino had only done what was RIGHT under the circumstances. Papa said, "I always tell my children to treat everyone as they would like to be treated, never to steal, and to always ALWAYS look out for the ones littler than you. Don't you think, Mr. Principal, that the world would be a much better place if everyone followed those rules?"
The Principal laughed grudgingly and clapped Papa on the shoulder. "Yes, sir, you're right. The world would be a better place. Perhaps that other child would not be such a bully if you had had the raising of him!!!"
And, so I end as I began, in those years that left their calling card in the things we had, which were battered and familiar; in what we believed, which was reassuring and unchanging; and in what we said, how we felt, and how we treated one another. Maybe we never had many material possessions, but what we did have was immeasurably more valuable!! Our lives were far richer than many other peoples, and I wouldn't change a single thing! I treasure these memories in a special place within my heart!!
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Copyright © 2006 by Judith Ann Neary. All rights reserved. This post is the intellectual property of the author and her heirs. It is not to be copied or reproduced in any form without the author's written consent. Please contact me for further information.
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