THE FOOTNOTES

Rita, Bob Toombs, Hannah and Dylan were here visiting. Here are a couple of pictures

I suppose you could call Christmas Eve slow. Actually, we were alone again this year. Christmas Day, Rita came in from Atlanta. Mary and Max, and a friend of Max from Ukraine joined us for dinner. The dinner was excellent, as usual,and we had a good time.

Dad - thanks for reminding me how things could be worse. Its been very cold in GA, but I guess I shouldn't complain.

Pat

....and they are free. We don't even have to store them from one year to the bext. Can't beat dat!

My favorite picture is a photograph of my Grandpa, Tony Naples. Tony Naples was an interesting character. He came over from Italy at the age of 27 and became a hod-carrier and then a mason, and finally a contractor. His work can still be seen on sidewalks near Central Connecticut State Universty. His name is imprinted in the sidewalks he built there.
He lived with our family and was dearly loved by all of us. He was entertaining,
funny and not much trouble. An interesting thing about him was the wine cellar he had. He worked hard pressing grapes into wine. The grapes were imported from California. Locally grown grapes weren't good enough. He had a cot in the cellar where he took naps. He had a table where he would rest and read nis Italian papers.
When my siblings and I fought, like kids will do, he would sit there and say, "Godda Helluva shame." Poor Grandpa. He put up with so much from us.
When he became ill, we all pitched in and cared for him.
Some of my favorite recollections are how he entertained ladies in a shed behind the garage. When he dressed up to go out to see his lady friends, he wore a sprig of mint in his lapel. He was in his 70's then.
Grandpa was a founder of St. Anne's Church on North Street in Ne Britain. He also
helped found an Italian Society.
When he passed at the age of 87, his obituary was on the front page of the New Britain Herald.
He taught us all humility, respect and hard work. Thank you, Tony Naples from me and my siblings ( Rosamaria, Jiminere, Chancenell and Mister Touch.)

The snow storm was a fast-moving hard hitter. It was out of the state by about ten o'clock, but left as much as a foot of snow. We estimate we had about 8 inches. Our plow guy showed up during the night, and here are some of the views this morning.

I'm sure you are familiar with the start of that poem---We are expecting a foot of snow or more today, and here's what it looked like early. We are fortunate that we don't have to go to work.
We think we still have our plow guy..we haven't had a call, so I guess he is still in business....if not, we will be snowbound. I have the shovels, the sand and the salt ready, anyway

Jackie was the son of my brother, Jack. Jackie died early and is buried in St.Mary's Cemetery in New Britain. His grave is right next to Stanley Street, near the corner of Allen. We knew him as he grew up since he spent time with us. He went into the Navy, served in Viet Nam, and was married. We never knew his wife.
Here is his obituary.

My brother, and your uncle, Jack, is shown here with his daughter Patricia, and Aunt Lil, my father's sister. Jack and his wife, Cleo (Pat) lived in Newington at the time, and Lil lived in New Rochelle, N.Y.

The names and faces of many of the relatives who preceded you are fading from recollection. For this reason, I plan to present some of them from time to time so that they might be remembered for at least a little longer. One such relative, my cousin, Anna Mae McAloon.
Anna Mae was the only child of John and Mae McAloon. John was my mother's brother. She died in her twenties of what was called consumption, I believe. I think it was later called tuberculosis.
She taught piano. In the church of St. John the Evangelist on Newington Avenue, in New Britain, a stained glass window was inscribed with her name in her memory. That church might or n might not be there now. It could have been replaced in the years since I last was there.

Pearl Harbor Day was yesterday----67 years ago, and I am still talking about it. Not very much in the news---succeeding generations have their own wars to talk about.
Pearl Harbor Day remains vivid in my mind. A Sunday afernoon. My father lying on the kitchen couch, the kitchen was the only warm room in the house. The New York Giants game on the radio--and then the interruption with the news of the attack--My father's horror at the news he had been fearing for his entire lifetime---up all night listenting to the radio for news---There was no TV then.---and all that followed that day.

It's getting close to that time of year again. Better take a leqf out of Rita's book, and be good to Santa.