| As my Uncle Albert grew older, he started cutting lawns and doing any and every odd job that was available. Over time, he learned a great deal about gardening By adulthood, he was a respected landscape artist. Aunti Annie, (Netta) workedlong hours in a factory that made swimsuits, helped with the housework and raising of my mother. Like her father, Bortolomeo, she battled the bottle; butdomestic by nature she married and raised five children. Both, ever so responsible brother and sister fussed over my mother, their little tow-headed sibling. They were fiercely protective of her. She gave them a run for it, for, she was quite voluptuous by twelve, and attracted boys by the droves. She drove my poor uncle nuts. By her teens, she realized the implications of her more natural attributes, and used them to her advantage. More than a few Hollywood film agents, approached her for screen tests, but my grandmother would not have it. Not her daughter! She felt all actors were "putas" and the one Grandma detested most was Marilyn Monroe. So how else would she get away? Mom wanted out of her circumstances. She wanted riches and figured, as most women did, then, that the best way to achieve this goal, would be through a marriage. Someday her prince would come, of this she was sure. As she grew old enough to step out on to the town, she took that time to study the evening women of style and sophistication; copying their mannerisms, and their dress. Before long, she managed to create a style of her own; a style which was not only seductive, but classic. She was always dressing up for some nightclub or another and absolutely loved dancing to the big bands . . . and they loved watching her. Yes, the single life was riveting, with lots of eligible men who showered her with gifts. It was no wonder that her thoughts of marriage simmered on the back burner. But, at age twenty-four, when she met my father, something about him, made her want to settle down. She was quite happy with the choice she made with her dashing affluent and ambitious actor. As my father changed, mom felt gypped. Only now, there was the added worry of two children to support, for I had come along. Without a clue of what to do, Dad kept drifting from job to job and scheme to scheme. In turn, Mom grew more and more bitter, infuriated with my father for his weakness and false promises. The more she undermined him, the more animated were his dreams . Never-the-less, two years after I was born, my younger sister, Alona June came into the world. Things picked up when I was about three. My father landed a lucrative job selling televisions for Dupont. His new job demanded that the family move immediately to Chicago. It was all very hustle-bustle. Our excited family arrived by train and settled into a swank brick high-rise on Lake Shore Drive, a stone's throw from Lake Michigan. My mother was in ecstasy. Finally their ship had come in. Although I was painfully shy and clung to my mother, when she'd let me, I seemed to get lost more than the average child. Adventure struck at the most inopportune times, like when my family was at the train station about to embark for Chicago. My mother began screaming, "My daughter! Where's my daughter?" In spite of the hysteria, a handsome security officer found me just in time, following a pair of sparkling black stilettos. My only explanation was, "I like shoes." Those sparkly black high heels were the first vivid memory from my youth. Every other recollection came after. Our new Chicago apartment building was plush, with carpeting in the entry, elevators and a foreboding, dark, stairwell. Down the street was the play park, on the shore of the lake. While the cold winds of autumn whipped through my parka, I played fearlessly on the swings. Fallen leaves, swirled past me in an array of deep oranges, purples and browns and into the rough waters they landed . . . taking to the waves like fearless little surfers. For a while my childhood proved idyllic. My first kindergarten was at a Catholic school. The huge entry floor room was encased in walls of glass and furnished with a fine grand piano, long, low, tables and little yellow, wooden chairs. Every morning our teacher set the tables with colored paper, crayons, cardboard and scissors, along with pots of aromatic paste. We children worked diligently on our art until the clock struck eleven. That was our singing hour. Happily, we'd sit around the piano, chirping it up for the lookie loos. It was our time to shine. Outside, the sun reached through the enormous firs that swayed over our church made of brick. The breeze on the branches caused a shifting of light upon the stained glass, bringing the religiosity to life. We were still too young for proper During the summer months, we'd run wild and free, around our apartment building and on the lake shore. In the warm rains of the afternoons we’d chase the frogs. At twilight to the background din of chirping crickets and croaking frogs, the fireflies would dance. Crickets absolutely terrified me. I knew they were lurking in the bushes, just waiting to pounce. "Do you hear em?" I'd whisper in fear. "Ssshh! Do you hear em? Do you hear those Booker Crookers?" |
 | BOBBY JAMESON/RPJ  |
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| | Paula  Paula Servetti |
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| | Paula Paula Servetti |
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| | Jennie  |
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| | Paula Paula Servetti |
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| | wolfwitch  Wolf Witch |
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what a classic line!!!| | Paula Paula Servetti |
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| | Karmalade. Smear it all over your face.  Shaunti Negron Levick |
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| | Paula Paula Servetti |
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