They say, "first things first." Well, seeing as though this is my mother's story, I guess I should start by telling you a little about her.
My grandparents, Salvatore and Anna Romano, were both born to Italian-American parents in New York City and grew up in the same neighborhood in the Bronx. A few years after they were married, my grandfather got a job which required them to move to Staten Island. My grandmother once explained to me that Staten Island was not simply "where they lived," but that it "became their home." I guess that's why they never moved back to the city.
Anyway, It was only a few years after they were married that my grandmother got pregnant with my mother, Isabella Maria Romano.
My grandparents owned a quaint Victorian style home on St. Paul's Avenue, which is now part of the island's historic district. That is where my mother grew up. When you walk down those streets today, you can almost hear the sounds of years past, like ghosts whispering to you and giving you a glimpse of what Staten Island was like before they built the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge that connects the island to New York City.
From what I've been told, my mother had a fairly normal childhood, I suppose. She loved playing in the water in summer, in the snow in the winter and loved to sing and dance in the kitchen while my grandmother was cooking. My grandfather says my mom was always the star, no matter how big or small the audience was.
He's right. My mother was mesmerizing.
I suppose that's what attracted my father to her. Well, that, and her olive complexion and long dark hair.
However, the story of how my mother met my father is one I'll have to save for another day...
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1 comment:
I'm really enjoying these posts. Can't wait for more. :)
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