Storybook II

By Elena Dorothy Bowman

Within the pages of this book are stories that my mother once told me; of certain incidences that she remembered. But mostly it is compiled of the memories that were a part of our lives.

Doors were never locked friends and neighbors were welcomed anytime they happened to pass by. And it was an era where whenever someone visited at dinner time, an extra plate was always set out for the visitor to join in the family meal.

There were happy times and there were sad times. It was a time of struggle, of prosperity, of joblessness, of wondering where the next paycheck would come from. Times when a “breadwinner” didn’t have the money to buy a quart of milk, put bread on the table, or a dime to ride the trolley to work. Even a time when the poor didn’t know they were poor. But always, a family that stood together no matter what problems they were facing.

We tend forget the things that happened to us along the way and shrug it off as if it wasn’t important. But every little aspect of our lives contributes to who and what we turn out to be whether we know it or not... some for the better others not so good.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Write Words Inc.
• Release date: May 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781613863091

Book preview

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Storybook II

Storybook Series, Vol.

By Elena Dorothy Bowman

© 2014 Elena Dorothy Bowman. All Rights Reserved

First Print Edition, May, 2015

© Book Cover by Photo Artist, Graphic & Cover Designer Car’yna Bowman

Published at Smashwords by Write Words, Inc.

ISBN 978-1-61386-309-1

Dedication

For my parents, Thomas and Gaetanina

Boulos, my brothers Robert, Alfred and Thomas

Boulos, as well as my sisters-in-law, Virginia

and Janet Boulos who are all in

Heaven watching over us.

For my wonderful family: James, Christine,

Karen, Mark, David, Erin and my

Brother Richard.

And for my publisher and editor Arline and

Shelley Chase

And

For all of our relatives and friends

that God has called home

throughout the years.

You are missed

And not forgotten

but live on in our memories.

Prologue

Within the pages of this book are stories that my mother once told me; of certain incidences that she remembered, and possibly the reason why her father took his small family and left Italy to bring them to safety in America. And of those she only heard and read about in books. But mostly it is compiled of the memories that were a part of our lives.

It also contains some of the stories of growing up in times that were much easier for children, as well as for their parents who didn’t have to worry when their children were out playing most of the day. There was nothing that caused them anxiety or fear that they may be stolen or disappear without anyone seeing, hearing or knowing what had happened. Neighbors always watched out for everyone’s children, theirs and the neighbors, and it wasn’t unheard of for them to reprimand anyone’s child if they misbehaved.

Doors were never locked, friends and neighbors were welcomed anytime they happened to pass by. And it was an era where whenever someone visited at dinner time, an extra plate was always set out for the visitor to join in the family meal.

Most of the time we forget the things that happened to us along the way and shrug it off as if it wasn’t important. But every little aspect of our lives contributes to who and what we turn out to be whether we know it or not… Some for the better, others not so good.

There were happy times and there were sad times. It was an era of struggle, of prosperity, of joblessness, of wondering where the next paycheck would come from. Times when a breadwinner didn’t have the money to buy a quart of milk, put bread on the table, or a dime to ride the trolley to work. Days and months when soles of shoes were worn out, newspapers were inserted inside the shoe(s) to keep out the weather. Even a time when the poor didn’t know they were poor. But always, a family that stood together no matter what problems they were facing. Because as my father once said, he was the richest man in the world because he had four sons.

Where I fit into this, I didn’t know, but there were times when my father actually expressed the thought he had five sons and no daughter. Why? I could kick a football just as far and as long as my older brothers could and without even half trying. Yes, I was a tomboy, I had to be or I’d never be able to play with my brothers and their friends. And they would not be able to play without watching out for me. So, for my self-preservation and theirs as well, I learned how to be as good as they were and sometimes even better. I could kick a football, but couldn’t control a baseball. I hit more balls into the neighbor’s windows than they did, and they always took the blame for it.

When I think back on those days, it’s a wonder my brothers didn’t leave me somewhere so they could play without having to watch out for me. They must have really been upset that they were saddled with their kid sister wherever they went until she grew up and became a lady, well almost.

Funny thing though, that’s when they really took their role of looking after me more seriously, especially when I started dating. At first, it was just around the neighborhood to a movie or the soda shop. They would drop by look in and go on their way, checking back every so often. But as my dates became more serious, my date really had to watch his step or else. One false move on his behalf and he was out for the count. Brothers…you’ve got to love them. I wouldn’t have traded any one of my four brothers for anyone. I was really lucky to have them watching out for me. Although at the time I thought they were just trying to rain on my parade.

Chapter 1

Mom’s Baby Sister

In 1845 Maria Pino married Joseph Piraino. They lived in the town of Messina in the Island of Sicily. My grandfather was a fisherman and owned his own fishing boat. He also owned his own home, which was called a Palazzo, even though it wasn’t a palace but it was one, which in today’s terms, would be considered a moderate home. Their home was constructed of stone which made it stand out more than those that were not constructed of the same material. There were two floors to the palazzo, which was in a rural area, and on acres of land where his fig and fruit trees grew abundantly. While the fruit from the trees was available, my grandmother’s garden produced and supplied them with the necessary fresh vegetables they had for their meals during the growing season. Then, too, there was the fruit and vegetables she canned for the winter months so that they would always have a good supply of them for their meals. The surrounding area was a great place to raise children. My grandfather made a good living fishing. Even if it meant he would have go out to sea every day to bring in his catch, leaving his wife alone for many days at a time. But when he did finally return to shore, his catch was more than enough to feed his family, and to sell his fresh fish at the market for others to enjoy. All in all it was a good life for him and his family.

Not long after their marriage their first child was born. It was a girl, and they were happy that she was healthy, and as my mother said, my grandmother counted her toes and fingers to satisfy herself that they were all there. Some mothers still do that today. I’m not saying that my grandfather didn’t want a son, because he did to carry on after him. But he was just as pleased as my grandmother that his daughter was healthy and strong.

Then the thing that all parents fear happened. Even though they were in a rural area, didn’t protect them from the pandemic that spread across the country. Apparently, she was caught up in a pandemic that struck indiscriminately, rich and poor alike with devastating results.

My Mother told me what she knew about her baby sister. Living in a rural area, the only transportation available to the doctor’s office was by train. From what my mother explained, it was one of those trains that ran from city to city where people were mostly crammed in as much as possible. My grandmother didn’t know what was wrong with her baby. She wrapped her infant daughter up in a blanket and headed for the railroad station to take her to the doctor. She bought passage on the train and traveled with a sick infant to the doctor’s office. She did her best to keep as far away from people as possible so as not to disturb her baby or catch any other sickness that might be floating around. When she arrived at the doctor’s office, the news was devastating. Her baby didn’t make the trip and there was nothing the doctor could do for her.

* * *

Due to the pandemic spreading across the country, the doctor suggested my grandmother leave her baby with him and he would see that it was taken care of. My grandmother didn’t want to do that. She didn’t want to leave her baby with the doctor, she knew what he meant by taking care of her. She also didn’t want anyone on the train to know that she was taking her baby back home, or to know that there was anything wrong with her baby, although people were curious as to why she kept as far away from them as possible. She cut off any conversation saying that she didn’t want to wake the baby because she didn’t have any milk for the baby with her. Apparently, it satisfied the curious and they left her alone. She was terrified that if the train authorities knew, or had an inkling that she was carrying a dead baby wrapped in the blanket she was holding so closely, they would have taken the baby away from her and thrown her in one of the fires that was prevalent along the route home.

The thought of her baby being thrown in the fire was more than she could handle. She had to keep her emotions under control if she was to make it home to give her baby a good Christian burial. After the curious left her alone, she huddled in a corner of the train as far away as was practically possible. She kept to herself and did not speak to anyone other than to God. She prayed all the way home that the people would no longer pay attention to her, ask her any more questions, while she kept her baby tightly wrapped in her blanket and close against her. She prayed, not only for her baby, but for herself, knowing what the consequences would be if anyone caught her crying, or she showed any outward emotion that would give them away.

My grandfather met my grandmother and his baby daughter at the train station and whisked them away as fast as he could to a secluded area where, with the help of the Parish Priest, buried their daughter in a small grave somewhere on his property, away from prying eyes, and under a tree to shade her grave. My grandfather held my grandmother close to him as the tears fell while they slowly made their way home to a now empty house.

It was long after the pandemic had been brought to a close before Maria and Joseph Piraino had another child. That child was my mother, Gaetanina Piraino, a beautiful, healthy daughter who was soon the apple of her father’s eye. Two or three years later, their son Joseph was born to the proud parents. But their hearts still ached for the one they lost during the pandemic.

Chapter 2

The Mayor’s Son

Before coming to the United States, my mother, her brother and her parents lived in what was known as a palazzo. The street was tree-lined although the road itself was just a rural dirt road; it wasn’t a city street or anything close to it. They had a beautiful huge back yard, grew their own food and had more than several fig trees that really did bear fruit.

At that point in time it was considered a moderate life style. They were not wealthy, but due to her father’s fishing business, lived moderately well. For the most part it was a quiet neighborhood. Even though there were a number of children that lived in the area, they did nothing to mar the tranquility of the neighborhood, except for one individual.

In that neighborhood lived the Mayor of the town, with his family. Among which was a bully of a son who browbeat and actually pushed around, hit most of the other children, and lorded it over all those that lived in the neighborhood.

My mother was what one would call a tomboy, although I don’t know what the term was that they used in Messina in those days. She loved to climb trees and would do so on a dare, run as fast as she could and loved going out on the fishing boat with her father. He often made the remark that he had two sons, instead of one. But Joseph was too young to be allowed on any boat, fishing or otherwise without someone being there to watch over him constantly.

My grandmother tried desperately to make a lady out of my mother, but being eight years old, my mother was more interested in climbing trees than being a lady.

My grandmother made my mother a beautiful dress, of voile with big roses. It was gorgeous with a big flare to it, in the hope that my mother would act more ladylike. My mother loved the dress. Best dress or not, she still climbed trees whenever any one dared her to. She loved playing ball, and ran like the wind, with the flare of her dress billowing behind her.

People in the town would shake their heads as they watched her fly past them on her way to the store, school or wherever she was sent.

* * *

One day while playing with the other neighborhood children, one of the boys dared her to climb the tall tree alongside a neighbor’s house. He said if he couldn’t do it, neither could she. The boy who dared her added he wouldn’t even try climbing the tree. Mother just laughed at him and said just because he couldn’t or wouldn’t climb the tree didn’t mean she couldn’t. So up she went, dress and all to the top of the tree. All of a sudden the woman who lived in the house came out with her big dog barking at all of them. They all ran away leaving my mother alone up on the tree. Mother thought she could make it down from the tree before the dog reached her. But the branch broke and she fell. The bottom of her dress caught on the branch and she was hanging upside down facing the barking dog.

She said she cried out to the lady for help, and when the lady reached her called her a little devil and wanted to know what she was doing up there. Mother told the lady that the boys dared her to climb the tree so she took their dare. What she was worried about now was the big hole the branch had torn in her dress when she fell. She was worried my grandmother was going to kill her because she worked so hard on that dress.

The lady sent the dog away and helped my mother down from the tree. Not only had she torn her dress, but she had a deep gash in her leg that was bleeding profusely. The lady took Mother into her home, cleaned and dressed her leg, and repaired the hole in her dress before she sent her home. The lady told my mother not to worry because she was certain my grandmother would not notice the tear or that it had been mended.

It wasn’t until my grandmother washed the dress that she noticed the dress had been repaired and asked my mother what happened. Rather than answer the question, Mother suggested that it would be better if my grandmother asked the lady next door. Since the lady had witnessed the incident she could tell my grandmother how the dress came to be that way.

* * *

It would be a very long time before Mother was back climbing trees again. It was then when she had a run-in with the town bully. The Mayor’s son was a big heavy kid, and Mother was a skinny girl. Because he was so big, he was able to get away with lording it over the other children in the neighborhood.

For some reason the bully picked on Mother’s younger brother and when Mother told him to stop, he said defiantly, Make me!

At first Mother didn’t do anything, but the Mayor’s son began pushing all the children in the neighborhood around. It didn’t matter to him whether they were girls or boys; he just relished lording it over everyone. Since he was the Mayor’s son, everyone was afraid of defying him so they all took it from him without saying a word. It didn’t matter whether he had them crying or not, he just seemed to enjoy his hold over them. My mother said she thought to herself, that if this bully touched her, she would fight back. He was not going to get away with hitting her or her brother ever again and she meant every word of it.

The Mayor’s son decided to go after my mother and her brother. Mother said he pushed my young uncle around knocking him down and laughing as he did so. That was his first big mistake. My uncle was the first to hit the ground, and then the bully turned his attention to her. Running toward her he shoved her with both hands in an attempt to knock her down, and in some respects he managed to do that to the point where her dress was being muddied in her attempt to prevent herself from falling over.

Mother regained her composure and struck the Mayor’s son. First a slight slap across his face, but when she heard her brother crying, and saw that her dress had been muddied, she lashed out and beat the Mayor’s son to the point of sending him home crying like a baby.

All the kids in the neighborhood were cheering her on, she was their heroine. She did what they wanted to do but were afraid their parents would blame them instead of the bully. Their parents were that afraid of angering the Mayor. They knew he could cause them a multitude of problems if he had a mind to.

* * *

The following day, my grandparents received a message from the Mayor to appear before him and to bring their daughter with them. My grandfather looked at her and demanded to know what she did to cause this order from the Mayor? She described what happened and explained to my grandfather, that she couldn’t let him get away with it any longer.

He shouldn’t have picked on me and got my dress all muddied. Besides, he hurt Anthony. What was I supposed to do let him get away with it?

All my grandfather could think of at the time was that somehow or other, his daughter had made trouble for him and he didn’t know what he was going to do. The Mayor was the Law in their Community and he could cause my grandfather and his family more misery than his daughter could possibly know.

He was beside himself, If it was any other boy, there wouldn’t be any repercussions, but the Mayor’s son! he exploded.

Mother defiantly told my grandfather that she didn’t care who he was, he wasn’t going to push her or her brother around anymore no matter what.

My grandfather looked at his daughter, shook his head and said, What am I going to do with you? When he saw the look on her face he reached out to her and said that he would stand by her, Mayor’s son or not. He smiled down at her and told her not to worry that somehow they would get through this.

They appeared before the Mayor. His son was standing beside his father snickering as he watched Mother and my grandfather, and whispered to her that now she was going to get it, with a smug look on his face.

The Mayor and my grandfather spoke softly. My grandfather explained what had happened as he knew it. He also told the Mayor that his son was a bully. He threatened, and pushed all the other children in the town around, and demanded they hand over whatever money they had on them. Your son also told them that he was the Mayor’s son and he can do anything he wants and you, the Mayor, won’t do anything to stop him.

The Mayor looked at Mother and asked her to explain what happened. She did and said to the Mayor, I don’t care if he is your son. He’s not going to get away with pushing me or my brother around.

The Mayor turned to his son and asked, Is this the skinny little girl, this little slip of a girl who beat you up?

His son answered that she was and that she was the one who gave him a bloody nose.

The Mayor turned to my grandfather and offered his apologies for having him come before him and promised it wouldn’t happen again.

He turned to Mother and asked, Did you really beat him up? She stood