Mia Vita: Observations on Life, Religion, and Politics

By Anthony Gibbone

This autobiography begins with the author writing about his earliest memories growing up in Brooklyn during the 1930s and 40s. Mr. Gibbone took adult studies in bookkeeping and accounting to supplement his knowledge of IBM accounting machines. Early on, he entered the field that became the present-day personal computers. The book focuses on Anthony’s marriage to Anne. His proudest accomplishment is the family he started with her. After writing about his life, Mr. Gibbone shares his thoughts on religion and politics. This manuscript will appeal to readers who enjoy heartwarming memoirs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Penguin Books
• Release date: Apr 6, 2023
• ISBN: 1637774230

Book preview

Life and Observations

It was the era of the 1920's, the roaring twenties, the sale of alcoholic beverage was illegal, the speakeasy, the flapper, and when a Model T Ford sold for about 400 dollars (if you could afford one.) And then the stock market crash in October 19 2 9, the beginning of hard times known as the Great Depression. I want to write a trilogy of works, my life, religion, and politics. You’ll not find a polished literary gem here, but rather a direct to the point street talk.

It all started for me on February 8, 1929 at 105 Navy Street, Brooklyn, USA. Herbert Hoover was President of the United States. It would be 3 years before Franklin Roosevelt would become president. It would be 2 weeks before a band of Al Capone cronies cut down 7 men in the St. Valentine's Day massacre in a garage in Chicago.

It was 2 years after Charles Lindbergh's famous air flight from what is now Roosevelt Field to Paris, France. It would have been some 10 years after World War 1, and some 12 years before World War 2.

The house on Navy Street was the picture of the slum area of those times. There was the Ground floor street level Post Office that Aunt Lizzie operated. How this was licensed and how it came about, I am not at all sure about. There was a broken down roll-down desk in the corner. I remember the pot belly iron stove In the rear, next to a step-ladder like stair to the second floor.

When Aunt Liz was not around, I would take some pennies out of the drawer behind the counter. I have got to believe she knew I did so because the drawer was never locked. The post office was a hang out for my uncle, Anthony M Coppola, and his cohorts. Anthony had many contacts. You had to be a democrat of course, but he was always available to help family find a job, fix a traffic ticket or some special favor. There was the hallway that ran from the front of the house all the way back to the yard. The story goes that it was the pathway for grandpa's horse and carriage. Of course, that was before my time. And then I remember the water box with the pull string toilet in the cold hallway, the gas fixtures that were still in the wall, and, yes, the wonderful bathtub in the kitchen.

Uncle Tony, we love you, and we miss you.

Anthony M. Coppola, our standard bearer, we all look up to for his efforts in promoting the welfare of the Italian people in the district, he was a county detective on the staff of district attorney Dodd. He also worked as a federal internal revenue department officer. He was a member of Loyola Council Knights of Columbus. And Vice President of the Seneca Democratic Club of 4th A.D., a four-story clubhouse at 62 St, Edwards Street, which opened in Jan 1920 In celebration with speakers Assemblyman George Dennon, State Senator James Crawford, and Alderman Francis McGaffey.

Aside from sitting around the radio on Sunday night to listen to Eddie Cantor, there was not much In the way of entertainment, so that we spent lots of time in the streets. We played kick the can, stick ball, box ball etc. We would steal potatoes and roast them on an open fire. We would hitch the back of a truck for a ride, or hop on the rear of the Navy Street trolley, pull and disconnect the electrical contact wire so that the trolley would come to a stop. Then you ran for your life as the Conductor would come running.

Then there was the old red brick school house, P. S. 14. It was a very old building. The floor would squeak as you walked along. I guess it was around the year 1934, Aunt Lizzie had to drag me to School on my first day. I hated school from the very start.

It was the same school my mother went to. It was across from City Park which was the same park where my cousin Charlie accidentally hit a kid in the head with a swing. He ran away and never went back to school. I don't remember too much more other than the day Mrs. Anzelone had me stand in front of the class as she sent a boy to bring back a basin of water, and had me comb my hair. In those days, a teacher could hit you across the knuckles with a ruler without the slightest hesitation. I guess