I have one relative left in the Bronx and I finally was able to visit her the day after Christmas. Christmas to me was never just about Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. It was always the week between Christmas and New Years as well. I haven't seen my Godmother, although I have spoken to her, since COVID. Her house, located not far from Pelham Bay, is filled with many memories. As a young boy, this three story Bronx abode housed my Grandfather, two Uncles, three Aunts and my Godmother. My Godmother is the only one left in the home.
My first thought in this house always starts with my Aunt Fanny, who chose that name over her real name of Philomena. She made the best meatballs I ever tasted and is still on a search to find some that come close. She also taught my mother how to cook Italian, who was a very good student of the culinary field. My Aunt Rosy was the fun one. She would take me down to Pelham Bay Park, but it was the eggcreams that we would drink at the soda shop that were the best.
Every Sunday, I would either take the Number 6 Train to their house or they would do the same to visit us. A big thing was the penny Poker games that we would play. The Yankees were always on the television during baseball season, as we enjoyed Phil Rizzuto's color commentary. Cakes were always on hand from the local Italian Bakery. The holidays that we would spend together were for lack of a better word, a feast!
As I sat around the table checking out the coldcut selection this year, I couldn't help but envision each and every one of them there. Aunt Fanny welcomed everyone into her home without prejudice. My mom was English and German raised within the Jewish faith and this Catholic loved her like a daughter. It was good to feel like it was the old days for that one day!
