Sister Act

Throughout the years, I've tried many times to get off dialysis.  The first time was in 1985.  It was the day after Thanksgiving when many holiday travelers lose their lives.  Sadly, the kidney didn't work.  About 2 years later I was called for a second transplant.  Again the kidney did not work.  Later in 1989, I went on a form of home dialysis, but this was not a good choice for me.  I returned to hemodialysis 9 months later.  By this time, St. Elizabeth's transplant program was up and running.  So I got another kidney.  Unfortunately, it didn't work out.

My sister wanted to give me her kidney, but I was afraid.  I didn't want anything to go wrong.  She was very brave.  She convinced me to do it.  We were a perfect match.  Better then twins.  In 1998 we went under the knife at Pittsburgh's Presby.  

Tina, my sissy carried out the most selfless act of love.  Our chances were slim, but she was determined we try.  In the end, the kidney did not work, but it remains my "Golden Goose".  

I still carry her kidney on my left side, not too far from my heart, where sisters meet and share their lives.

Chapter 3 Mom

I enjoyed my childhood very much.  There was always a good time to be had.  My Mother was very domestic.  She cooked and cleaned and washed clothes a lot.  It was great having a mom that was home all the time.  Growing up in the 60's was still good even though times were crazy.  My Mother was a good cook, and we always had lots of food.  Living above the store made that easy.  Mom loved to try out new products and recipes.  We loved fried french fries, so Mom got a Veg-O-Matic.  It didn't work like it did in the commercial.  I think that potato is still stuck in that iron grid thingy.  

My Mom took real good care of us kids, and we were bad too.  We weren't scared of our mom because we knew she was easy.  We were petrified of my Dad, and she would say, "I'm gonna call your father!" or "Wait till your Father gets home!".  There were times when we got the belt.  (We won't go there).  My Mom always felt bad when we got the belt. (We won't go there.)

My Mom has had it tough.  We lost my Dad when she was in her early 30's.  She raised all four of us, and we turned out really very good.  

Kudos to Mom!!!  She always said we are 'her greatest accomplishments'.  I feel very fortunate to have had a good start.  I needed that solid ground for what was to come later.

Chapter 2

My Dad owned a grocery store and butcher shop.  It was fun growing up above a store.  We lived upstairs and the store was downstairs.  We always had fun things to eat.  Candy, pop, chips, ice cream.  We loved Pepsi.  Man, we couldn't get enough of the stuff.  Pepsi and Snyder's potato chips went good together.  

My Dad's sister, Aunt MaryRose, worked in the store too.  She was like an older sister, and always made things fun for us kids.  She did a lot of dumb things and got in trouble most days.  Getting in trouble with my Dad was no picnic.

One day she weighed my little sister (who wasn't so little) on the meat scale and broke it.  My Dad had a fit and made her pay for it out of her meager wages.  Another time she was painting buggies with silver paint, and it somehow ended up all over my brother, Donnie.  He looked like the tin man from The Wizard of OZ.

Another time MaryRose got really scared when a customer came in with a towel covering his hand.  She thought he had a gun, and when Daddy pulled the towel away it was a hook hand.  Poor guy was so embarrassed.  My Dad wanted to kill her.

Yet another time MaryRose got the shock of her life when she came face to face with a raccoon that was under the counter eating cigarettes.  My Aunt can scream louder than anyone in our family.  My Grandmother was a good screamer too.  We found that out when a giant sewer rat joined us for Thanksgiving dinner, but that's a whole other story.

My childhood was so fun.  My best friend was Carol Gardner.  She taught me everything.  How to play jacks, Chinese jump rope, hopscotch, canasta, badminton, croquet, mother-may-I, Simon says, rollerskates, pickup sticks, all kinds of stuff.  Carol was the best.

I remember wanting a hoola-hoop.  One of the best memories I have of my father was when he drove me all around looking for one.  He took me in his brand new big, green 98 Olds with push button windows.  What a car.  it took a long time, but we finally found a shoop-shoop hoola-hoop at Gaylord's.  It had beans in it, and make a cool noise.  It was hot pink, an no one else had one like it.  I was in my glory.  Thanks Daddy.

Us kids could play outside all day, but we had to be home before that streetlights came on.  If we didn't make it, my Mom was on that back porch screaming, "Michael, Donnie, Jodi, Tina!"

People never bothered us back then.  I'm sure there were lots of perverts around but they knew better than to come near us.  My father could easily castrate them in the back where the meat room was.

It's funny they never called them pedophiles.  My Aunt called them dirty old men, and she could spot them a mile away.  And just like my Dad, don't even think about coming near a loved one.  she will eat you up and spit you out.  She's kind a like Janice from the Sopranos.  Know what I mean?  

Anyhoo , I had a great childhood growing up at the store.  (Hi Aunt Mary Rose)

So much more to come......

My Story Ch. 1

On April 28, 1961 my mom pushed me out into the cold cruel world.  Right away my father didn't want me because I had carrot colored hair.  He really wanted another Son to help in the family grocery business.  After a few days I'm told he fell madly in love with me and decided to keep me.  Story of my life.... You gotta know me to love me!  Anyhoo, my Dad thought I hung the moon, red hair and all.

I have two older brothers (Hi Mike & Donnie!) that were always getting into trouble, and two years after me, my little sister (Hi Tina!) came along.  There were four of us rug rats, all two years apart.  My poor mother.  My mother is Irish-Catholic (Hi Mom!), my father was full-blooded Italian.  When worlds collide...

Anyhoo, I grew up like most kids in the sixties.  We made our own fun.  We played outside, beat each other up, and called each other names like "big fat pig".  It was great.  We loved each other very much, and still do.

My father was the kind of guy that would make you disappear if you harmed a hair on a loved one's head.  He was a hungry lion.  Nobody anywhere messed with him.  He had no fear.  He was the bravest toughest man I've ever known to this day.

One time some drifters rented a house on the next street.  They dog napped our St. Bernard, "Queenie", and tried to hold him ransom for $50 bucks.  That was a sorry day for them.

Another time some burglars tried to rob our store.  That was a sorry day for them.  

A lot of people that tried to mess with my dad had sorry days.

If his temper flared and he bit down on his finger, us kids knew to run for our lives.

What do you do when a hungry lion lives in the house?  You keep him well fed.  Weeeell FED.

to be continued........