"I wonder what memories of yours will persist as you go on in life. My hunch is that the most important will have to do with feelings of loving and being loved, friends, family, teachers, shopkeepers, whoever's been close to you." -- Fred Roger
I love Fred Roger's definition of memories. It is like our heart is compartmentalized into sections that house our memories. As I get older, they seem to have a much deeper meaning to me.
I was approached by a lovely woman asking if our house was the Peca Homestead. So, of course, I said yes and explained that my grandfather built the house in 1927. Then, she asked if I would be so kind as to speak to her 96-year-old mother. She was sitting in the car and had many memories of our home. She was a friend of my Aunt Florence and remembered everything from our pantry, the two-way stairs, and the infamous old laundry chute. I loved talking to her because I remember her family and the connection between the Pecas and the Cinquinos. It was such a lovely visit.
Recently, a high school reunion lunch at the Pok-A-Dot brought back memories from high school.
As a teacher for over 50 years, I have had the joy of seeing former students. They remind me of what it was like to be their teacher and have them as one of mine! If you are lucky to have that lifelong friend that has gone through the highs and lows of your life, consider yourself blessed.
As the compartments of my heart are filling up, the memories of my marriage and being a mother overfill them. The greatest of all is our daughters and now our grandchildren.
I cherished growing up in a big family. I treasured those memories. One, in particular, came to mind. I was one of six siblings. One night my mom lined all of us up as we waited for my father to get home from working late. As he opened and looked at us, a little startled, my mother proceeded to introduce us to our dad. I'll never forget the look on my dad's face.
Another memory would be when he would take us to Boulder Park or the Pok-A-Dot on a Sunday; I think it was his way of giving my mother a well-deserved break. We loved to spin on those stools and fight over who would pay the $10 for our hot dogs, French fries, and root beer in the frosted mugs.
Holidays were epic in our house, the laughter, the stories, and of course, the children's table seating 12. Our meals began with an antipasto, followed by Italian Wedding soup, Lasagna, meatballs, sausage, and then a full turkey dinner with all the trimmings. The food was delicious, but the shared stories were priceless and seem to get better with age.
Another person we all cherished was our Grandma Bellow.
She would visit us every Sunday after Mass and bring dessert. On holidays she would make the main course. My happiest memories were going home with her and staying overnight, and sleeping on her pull-out bed in her living room. Our drive from Batavia to Leroy in her 1962 Chevy was always enjoyable. We would say the Rosary together on our way. Her dashboard reminded me of a small altar with many saints watching the road for us. She taught me to cook, bake, pray, and clean.
For many years, I was the only girl with three brothers, and I loved it. I was quite the tomboy, and what I like the best was I could annoy my brothers, and they were never allowed to hit a girl. However, they did get back at me when one brother (Tony) would read my diary to a boyfriend or tape my phone conversations. Then, nine and ten years later, I was given the most extraordinary gifts of 2 sisters.
So many from my generation have lost their parents, family members, and friends. There are no words to express that loss, but somehow the sadness over time is replaced with our memories and love for them. Not a day goes by I don't wish I had one more conversation with them.
So, readers, in the overwhelming days we are living in, take time to remember and cherish your memories. My compartments are almost all filled, and I am anxiously waiting to see what memories will be added until my heart is whole!
Your family is your story; make it never-ending!
