Childhood was good, honest, neighborly; a mixture of nationalities and races. No robberies, no rapes, no drugs. Baseball was the big sport, “caddystick,” a game played with the handle of a broomstick, (was very exciting), handball and other fun games that today would be called silly. The times are so different today, looking back we say “the good old days.” Hard working parents, not much heat in the homes but family togetherness was the most important aspect of our lives. Neighbors were great, help was always there when needed

Our family consisted of 5 boys and 2 girls. Three of my brothers were born in Italy, one brother and one sister were born in So. Carolina, and I and my younger sister were Brooklynites. All my brothers were great ballplayers, but they had to work hard to make a living. Relaxation was the weekend baseball game, played in a hard box park between teams from different neighborhoods. (The Punturieri Boys were the stars of the team; they took over pitching, first base, short stop, and center field.) Games they played were hard fought and never ended in a brawl. Those were “The Good Old Days.” Enemies on the field and friends after the game. What a neighborhood; South Brooklyn, Red Hook section

Red wine, ground up the grapes put them in barrels, let them ferment. Then when the wine was ready to drink, everyone in our vicinity would have wine on the table for many many months.

Fruit and vegetables sold in pushcarts along Union Street in Brooklyn. The chicken market, something one never forgets. Chicken was the big meal on Sundays, so on Saturday buying and picking out the right chicken was pops job. I would carry it home after pop examined it and had it plucked.

The radio, ah! The window would be open so that the neighbors could hear stories and some news.

Our neighborhood had the Little Italy Neighborhood house on Union Street in Brooklyn, NY. Many of my young years were spent there. That was a place to meet friends and played basketball, handball, ping-pong, etc. These neighborhood houses kept us young boys and girls off the street at night. Funny how I don’t remember anyone, boy or girl, smoking in those days. Policemen were good. They would break up any loitering on street corners. We knew most of them by name. Many of us thought that some day we would be policemen. Law and order we never questioned.

When I was a teenager my father and brothers bought a pool room (VanBrunt and Sackett St.) I shined shoes and on the outside of the store where we kept a “shoeshine chair,” ten cents a shine. I was the shoeshine boy. Boy, some of the tips were terrific. The billiards room kept us all busy. Card games on Friday and Saturday night was the order of day. I remember seeing the “Masked Marvel” he came in one day and gave us an exhibition. My brother Frank, the smallest of all the brothers, and gave the “Marvel” a good game. All of my brothers played billiards very well and taught me all I know about the game. In later years, it helped me during my stint in the army in World War II A billiard parlor in those days was different than today. The clientele was a mixture of hardworking men and the rough kind. Occasionally the pool parlor would be visited by a well know detective in our neighborhood. All the men would be put facing a wall and the detective and his crew would search the men from head to foot. This was the usual rigamarole to see that nothing illegal or unusual was going on. Everything was going fine for years but the bad times came. Our Saturday night we got bad news that our father was run over by a hit and run driver. He passed away the following day. I guess this was very difficult for me to take. The wake lasted for five days. In those days, the body was usually laid out in the parlor of the home of the deceased. Visitors came and paid their respects accordingly. The trips to the church and the to the St. John’s cemetery with so many of my father’s friends was a painful time in my life that remained with me for a long time. But life went on.