I am writing this from memory and please excuse me if its all over the place. It was almost fifty plus years ago. You may ask if any of this matters. It does to me. Why? Because after the age of seven I hung onto memories so I wouldn't forget some very important people. And not to mention it made me "Mrs. Fix-It" at a very young age. It's when things just made you go within, to a place no child should go. It meant your feelings didn't matter and you had to go with the flow and say things to make things ok and then feel guilty. Divorce happens every single day. I myself was divorced. I am by no means perfect but my kids came first. They still do!
I was born April 13th 1962 and named Mary Beth D'Acquisto. I am not sure where my parents lived when I was born but I do know that when my brother was born we lived across the street from my dads parents in the upstairs duplex owned by my dads father. I vaguely remember it. It was a small place. I was at Nana's house a lot! I loved it there. My mom told me once that I spoke more Italian than English. My grandparents immigrated to America from Sicily. I may have been four or five when we moved to Villa St. I believe my mom's father owned that house. Dad worked at American Motors in Kenosha and I remember him painting houses on the side. He also tended bar at Steve O'Renos that was on the corner across from our house. We would go there and get orange soda or root beer. We got to go Kankakee bowling in the back room of the bar. You had to set your own pins and there are only nine pins in this type of bowling. Steve, the owner was so nice to us. I loved when we got to see him later in life. Such a funny guy. I can remember when it was a hot summer night my mom would pack up supper in a cardboard box and we would head to North Beach when my dad got home from work. It was always cooler by the water. And my dad loved the lake. We would swim. Then eat supper. And of course we had to wait to go back into the water for fear of getting cramps. After a bit, back in we would go. I love it down there to this day. My mom would make supper at home and we would eat together. In the evening we would watch TV. Popcorn or chips and dip, with a sip of dads Pepsi, was the norm while watching That Girl or Bewitched. Or Mannix or the Mod Squad. And we usually laid on the floor to watch TV. Dad didn't have to yell at us very often but I do remember getting spanked with the belt. I must have really made him mad because he was pretty laid back. And that was the only time I got spanked by him with a belt. I remember feeling so bad. I disappointed my dad. He still loved me. That was parenting back then and he hurt my pride more than my butt. I also remember locking his keys in the car, because I was playing in the car and shouldn't have been. My dad came out and I told him the keys were locked in the car. He proceeded to make up this big scenario of what was going to happen now that I locked the keys in the car, all while opening the hood of the car and reaching in, grabbing a magnetic key box that held the spare key. He took the key, opened the door and started laughing with his signature laugh. All in humor. His way of teaching a lesson. And it worked. I never locked the keys in the car again. Or played in the car.
My dad took me for rides on his motorcycle. I sat on the gas tank, barefoot. No helmet. Riding through town and through Petrified Springs, a park in Racine. On Sundays we went to Catholic Church. Little white gloves, a veil, all decked out for Jesus. After church sometimes we went to Steve O'Renos for a soda. But the best part of Sundays was going to Nana's for spaghetti. Aunts and Uncles and cousins galore. We had a blast. We all sat in Nana's little kitchen with a white metal platter of spaghetti on the table. I have this platter displayed in my kitchen today. We ran around outside. The men would play Bocce Ball. I only remember the men playing. Today the ladies in the family can throw a mean Bocce Ball. Grandpa was a great cook. His grill was a hole in the ground with a metal grate over it. And he would grill a delicious steak. We would dip Italian bread in the juice from the meat. I can still smell that kitchen. My dads kitchen smelled the same. And wine. Grandpa made Italian wine. He would let us take a sip here and there. Acceptable back then. And after dinner, if they didn't play Bocce Ball, there was a cribbage game going on. Grandpa would smoke his little black cigars, drinking his wine, and occasionally falling asleep at the table. Too much wine maybe lol.
At times there would be family parties. I remember weddings starting mid morning and my mom having two dresses. One for the church and one for the evening. So much fun running around with all the other kids. Stealing a sip of my dads mixed drink. I also remember parties in the basement of relatives homes. Food spread out on tables and everyone sitting around as if they were in a fancy banquet hall. Life was simpler back then. They did what they could afford. And quite frankly having a party in ones basement is super cool. Why not? Maybe we should go back to those days. My Aunt Gracie, also my godmother, had a super tiny house. It was decorated so cute and very meticulous. She had parties in her basement. She even had a stove in the basement. She would set the table so perfectly. And the food was always delicious. I had a few Christmas and Thanksgiving meals in her basement.
I have hung on to as many memories as I could. They will divorce and I will be seven years old. Too young to understand the dynamics of some of life's troubles only adults should deal with. But not too young to miss my dad. My grandparents. My cousins. Life as I loved. But too young to feel the stress & anxiety and learning to walk on egg shells. Life as a family of six was over. And I was only seven. I wish they could have made it work because I often wonder just what my life would have been. Never leaving Racine and our family roots. But more importantly I wouldn't have had a life that included fear, shame, doubt, the trauma of abuse, and with no one to turn to.
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