it's funny how the earliest memories can be just little fragments but still have very strong emotional response.

I can remember my Dad taking my sister and I out catching fire flies.

I can remember going into the cellar with my cousin and eating a several pound tin of dried apricots.
I also have very fond memories of eating the mustard pickles stored in the cellar that my grandmother had made. My mouth still involuntarily puckers thinking about it.
Early on my folks rented a small patch of land, maybe 30x50 feet, for a garden. Probably where I learned to love vegetables.

 

I remember building a large seated snowman with my mother. It must have been in the early '50's I also remember riding on a Vespa scooter with my dad driving. I would stand on the floor boards between his arms. If that happened today he would be arrested!!

 

My earliest memory I was very young maybe 3 or 4 years old and we were on vacation and I wasn’t feeling well and I can still remember sleeping in the backseat of the car when we got to the cabins we were staying at. Also remember my parents buying me a VW Beetle plastic toy car on the same trip.

 

Oh many memories, growing up with our grandparents living beside us and their entire backyard was one big garden, it was huge. They also had a great pear tree that was loaded with pears every summer. We had extended family living all around us , lots of good laughs and stories we still chuckle about to this day. I have so many funny stories of my father, he was very unique and a barrel of laughs, my friends all loved joking around with him. I miss him very much.

Our yearly road trip to Florida and I would sleep in the back seat like I was sleeping on a bed, no seat belts, no worries in the world about safety, but it worked. My Dad drove a huge Chrysler New Yorker. On one trip back from Florida my Dad tried to smuggle a fruit tree across the Canadian border, that was at a time when the importation of fruit trees was strictly banned. About 5 miles form the border he stopped on the side of the freeway and stuffed the fruit tree under the hood of the car, and then he proceeded to the border. Someone who witnessed him on the side of the highway must have reported him as the border security guards were clearly onto him by the time he got to the border. When we got to the booth at the Detroit/Windsor bridge crossing they asked him the typical questions if he had anything to declare, any firearms, booze, dairy products, fruits or plants ? My father answered no. Then they asked if my father had anything under the hood, and my father said no. Then they asked him to open the hood and low and behold a six foot potted fruit tree was yanked from the engine bay, lmao. The tree was confiscated and he had to pay a fine, man was my father pissed, he swore all the way home. It was damn funny.

My Dad would deliver loads of rutabagas to Chicago every winter from Ontario, he would sell to the Jewel grocery store chain. Delivery was to the main terminal in "south" Chicago. We would hit Chicago around 2-3 am, and my crazy ass father would stop at a local liquor store just before he got to the food terminal. He would go into the store to buy cases of Baby Duck Champagne. Being from Canada liquor was always so much cheaper in the US and he couldn't resist loading up while in Chicago. I would look at him in the liquor store through a frosted passenger side window in the truck. He tended to carry no less than $5k cash on him at any time, as he never owned a credit card. Needless to say I was scared shitless. They always put those food terminal wharehouses in the worst parts of town. I would watch my short Italian father in a liquor store in "south" Chicago at 2 am, buying cases of champagne with a wad of cash in full view, he was the only white guy in the liquor store , and probably within a 10-20 mile radius. I was convinced he would be mugged, but it never phased him. I remember being so relieved when he got back into the truck. He did this on every trip.

Old family stories said that I was found passed out behind our home bar with an empty alcohol bottle beside me when I was very young 2-3 years old. Alcohol was feely available in our home at all times and easily accessible. I guess I got into it one day without my parents noticing until I was passed out, lol. It is a bit ironic as I never drank much in my younger years even though alcohol was all around me, even to this day I still don't drink much at all. Many of my high school friends who were restricted from alcohol in their homes turned out to be drunks when they got on the loose.

 

First date. First kiss. Whole new world opened-up!

 

I played on a little league baseball team in the fifties. My Dad and Mom came to all my games. My Dad was a carpenter and worked hard. He played semi-pro ball in the 40s before he joined the Navy to fight in WWII. Whenever I asked him to hit balls to me at our nearby ball field after dinner he never said no. He was very helpful and patient. He bought me my first new glove. I played with it all through my little league days. Those trips to the ball field with him really helped me become a better player. I miss him so much. Thanks Dad and RIP.