Do Not Forget to Remember(Charles A. Mazzarella) My thoughts keep me company as I stare through the window into the dark winter night. Snow piles, made by bulldozers, encircle almost every parking lot light. My recently purchased 1984 Buick Electra begins to be covered by tiny flakes of new snow; “just the chance of flurries”, the weatherman, this time, correctly predicted.

We are on our second fifteen minute break from the 3 hour weekly class the 17 of us in this room are currently living through. It is the third week of the Spring semester at the community college I am trying to get a degree from. This class, The History of Rural Societies and Genealogy, is interesting. I like history and always have. I wouldn’t mind teaching at a place like this, one day.

I could be out smoking a cigarette but I am trying to recall something and preferred to stay where it was warm and think. Mrs. Williams, our teacher for this class, gave us the assignment of writing a report about our family history; as far back as we can go. She also wants us to discuss the occupations of our grandparents and older relatives, interviewing at least two to get different perspectives. That got me thinking about my grandparents’ upcoming wedding anniversary. They will soon be married 55 years; some would be amazed by this. They are still healthy and able to be involved in the hobbies that keep them active. It seems fewer couples these days will stay married after ten years, let alone fifty-five. Yet, somehow, no one in my family is divorced and every cousin, aunt, and uncle I can think of, has been married at least 2 years.

I have not gone down the aisle yet. However, the woman I am dating seems to be all that I have been looking for or could want in a wife. We need to talk more though. That is another story.


The car is barely visible because the classroom is far from the parking lot and visibility is poor due to it being so dark and the wintery flakes that insist on making the weatherman look good. I presently sit in the town my mother’s parents lived in for more than 40 years. They now reside about ten miles from their former home; at a higher altitude where the snow is probably falling at a faster pace, if it is snowing there at all. You know how odd weather can be.

Students are still outside the classroom, attending to their needs or enjoying the cool night as they puff on cigarettes. My thoughts lead me to some stories I had been told by my mom and grandparents and how they met. I know that I will have to visit them so I can get the details straight in my mind. I believe going there for supper or taking them out would be the best excuse to visit and learn of how they did meet.

Class resumed and, twenty minutes later, we were through, ending early so we could drive home in the accumulating snow. I returned to my apartment, made a few sandwiches, and flipped through the channels on my satellite TV; the end of another long day. I decided to stay home and have a beer, instead of heading out to the bar. It was a Tuesday anyway, when not really much happens. Besides, I did not feel like going out in this slippery weather.

The weekend arrived and I drove up to my grandparents’ home alone, as my parents were in New England visiting my sister. My girlfriend was going to go with me but was called into work earlier in the morning. She is always working so hard at the restaurant or helping her geriatric patients that have Multiple Sclerosis, Cerebral Palsy, or some such debilitating ailment. She truly wanted to visit my grandparents and relax, as she needs that. We hopefully will meet up tonight and we can talk about the visit, among other things.

On this brisk Sunday morning in February, I noticed on the ride up that it did snow more up there during the week as I pass by the new piles of fluffy crystals nearly a foot deep. The roads are passable, but we all decided to stay in as I ride up to the house with take out from two different restaurants and a large pizza with mushroom and onion that I purchased the night before. Grandma is a good cook, but as I wanted to splurge and give her time to just relax, we eat inferior cabbage rolls, mashed potatoes, and assorted Chinese; the pizza is for supper.

This is my weekend to learn about how Charles and Mary met and have stayed married these many years. We decided to be very informal and eat on the sun porch that faces their backyard and a wall of trees. The smell of coffee hits my cold nose as I open the door to see my grandfather, after whom I am named, watching the local PBS station that is airing re-runs of The Lone Ranger. I say hello but head straight for the kitchen to unload the bundles; the contents of which are quickly placed in oven-safe platters to reheat. My grandmother calls this family style, where everything is placed on the table and you take what you want. It is easier than making individual plates for everyone and I agree with her.

My grandparents are old fashioned, as most anyone else’s are, but even more so. They stick to their Polish traditions. Grandma, on this sunny Sunday morning, has the radio tuned into the local station that plays polkas and other similar ethnic music. My Nonnie, my father’s mom, does the same and listens to the local station that plays Italian songs; I know this because we live next door to each other.

As I get my grandfather and I a beer from the fridge, I see on the kitchen table the usual fare: a bowl of cottage cheese and onions, sautéed onions and mushrooms in butter, two loaves of pumpernickel and rye with the seeds, a bowl of red beets, some horseradish, and the ever present lemonade mix in a small canning jar. When I was younger, my grandmother used to can a lot more. This was one of her hobbies she continued in the new home; something left over from the Depression perhaps. In fact, any woman that was a wife was still canning up until about 1980. I hear it is making a comeback as a way to save money or due to novelty. The women of some families have never stopped canning.

The pleasant smell of “piggies” or “pigeons”, the stuffed cabbage rolls filled with hamburger, onions and rice that sit in a thick and oily tomato sauce, now competes with the aroma of the decaf coffee. It actually smells like a diner, or something; good comfort food on this relaxing day in Winter. We all sit down in the sun room to watch some TV as we await our reheating meals. The noon news is about to start and this is watched before Sunday dinner. They like to watch TV first then eat, as it gives you something to talk about during dinner.

This was not always the case for my grandparents; talking during the meal, that is. As you will soon learn, they were lucky if they even got something to eat; not that they lived in the dire straits of poverty however. Since they became parents, they knew they wanted a better life for their children.

Mary and Charlie raised their four children in a home filled with love. The children never lacked for anything but never had a lot of some thing either. Through sickness, various music and dance lessons, and the chores of daily life, all while running a corner grocery store, all that was needed was given. Dresses and costumes were made and bills were paid as you had to walk up and down hills, in all types of weather to the various stores or customers. Christmas presents were purchased and souls flourished as church was attended every Sunday or sometimes more often. Though the many hours and years of sacrifice and toil that occurred are almost now forgotten, my grandparents knew in their hearts and minds they wanted to be better parents as compared to their own. They knew they wanted a better Life for their family. This included eating together as a family, talking at the table in a relaxed and respectful way and later on in life, spoiling their grandchildren.

As we watch the news, I think of the many times I had been in that room watching cartoons with my sister as we ate toasted cheese sandwiches and drank our then favorite soda. Our visits to my grandparents’ house were a sort of free for all. We kids played and were taken out to eat or to the local amusement park and we were not concerned about crumbs in the living room. Some grandparents need to mellow out and could have learned a few things from mine.

We enjoyed a nice meal and all became quite full. We knew that my grandmother’s moist and delicious bundt cake awaited us after we digested this heavy meal. As it was getting a little too warm on the sun porch, we retreated to the den to start the true discussion. I tell my grandparents about the class I am taking and the assignment and they are intrigued. They each tell me about what they were doing, more than 55 years ago now, before they were married. Grampa starts first.

“Well, Chuck, as you know, I was born in 1907 and lived a harsh life, as my parents and step-parents were from the Old Country. I started working in the coal refinery as a breaker boy at the age of 8, during the summers. As I got older I worked there full time, up until your grandmother here basically told me it was time to leave; some 5 years after we were married. That’s right, isn’t May?” She replied, ‘yes’ and he continued. “I then went to work at a shoe factory while your grandmother worked part time at a dress factory. Factories like these were common before WW II, even into the 70’s, as your father, the history teacher, I‘m sure has told you.” He stops. “Wait! I am getting lost already. I’ll talk about how we opened the grocery store later. You want to know about how we met and this is how I remember it.

People did not live as long as they do today, back when we both were young; medicine has come a long way. As a result people died “due to complications” that today could be avoided. Well, it was at the funeral of one of my neighbors that I met your grandmother. I was 17 and you were 16, weren’t you dear?” Grandma nods her head as she sips her coffee.
“We were among the only young people there, attending out of respect for the person and our parents, as it was expected. Young children stayed home and were looked after by an older brother or sister. They were not even considered.

Mary and I talked on the porch of our neighbor’s house, as the wake was always held at home. We found out we had a lot in common and that we liked each other. We may have met briefly at a dance before that; your grandmother probably remembers better than I. I did not have a car or truck but found where she lived, after she told me, and would walk to her house to see her. I lived across the river, about three miles away, but walking anywhere was not as uncommon then, as it may be today, because there were fewer cars.

We dated about two years and then decided to get married. On our dates, we would go to the silent movies, go for a walk, or just sit at home or on the porch and talk. We took the rare car drive to Lake Silkworth when we could borrow a car.

To simply answer how we have been married for so long: we had four children to raise. We cared for each other, and I still love your grandmother. We would just talk and rarely argue. Though, I probably yelled more when I would have a few too many drinks at the Falcon’s club. I was ornery sometimes. I was also not so “pig-headed” that I would not listen to and consider the suggestions your grandmother made; she was and still is usually right. Once our grocery store was established, Life was better all around.”

Grampa went to the sun porch for a smoke and Gramma started her side of this story. My grandmother Mary is 7 months younger than my grandfather Charles. They did live about 3 miles away from each other. This can be impressive in two ways: that my grandfather walked miles to see her or that they lived so close to each other and are still married today. I think my girlfriend and I have them beat however. We have known each other, on and off, for over 20 years and our parents presently live about 1 mile away from each other; I have trudged that long distance a few times. Compared to how others have met, ours’ too may make a good story, if we get married.

Gramma took another sip of her coffee and then began. “Your grandfather remembers a lot and has told you how adults were back then. Children did not matter, to most. Compared to today, children were considered a nuisance until they were old enough to go to work. As a result, we had to find fun when we could and be outside playing to stay away from our parents and elders. It must have been worse 100 years before we were born. We did have schools to go to though. However, your grandfather and I were only allowed to finish the sixth grade and then we had to go to work to support our younger siblings; this was expected.

Families were bigger back then and more children unfortunately died. There were more mouths to feed, so you went to work to help your parents. School was not a priority and as a girl, my opinion mattered even less. I started helping my mother with the sewing that she would take in from neighbors and other neighborhoods. Then, WWI came and a shoe/boot factory opened up. I started there in 1923 and I worked there and at the dress factory; staying on at the dress factory part time after I was married. Your grandfather and I met in 1925 but I remember things a little differently.


There used to be community dances, as there had been for 150 years at that point, I would guess. They would usually be held on a Friday or Saturday night or perhaps, a Sunday afternoon. There would be a dance at least once a month and more often when the weather was colder and there was not planting to be done. The ones in town were held at fire halls or the halls of a church. It is there that I met your grandfather.

Remember, that was a different time, without radio; TV would appear 30 years later. Not everyone had radio and the shows in the Twenties were not as sophisticated as the shows after 1937. People also played a lot of music at home, bringing their skills from the Old World.

As you can tell from our wedding picture, your grandfather was a dapper man when he was younger. I looked pretty nice also. Though he remembers meeting at the wake, I do not. But it is possible. During that mourning time, at a wake, you meet and talk to a lot of people. Perhaps we talked a while on that porch. You don’t remember all the people you talk to on a day like that because your mind is usually elsewhere. I just don’t remember that. But, who knows what your grandfather remembers. Maybe he has a better memory than me. I think I would recall meeting him though.

Our marriage was a nice one. The mass was held in Latin but the priest was Polish. The reception was held at the Holy Trinity church hall. Judy was married there, I think. You may also remember going to the bazaars when you and your sister were young. After Carl was born, Life changed again. Well, you know the birth order, with your mother arriving last the summer before we got into WW II.

Your grandfather worked in the mines on and off until 1943; there was almost a cave-in where he usually ate a sandwich. He was lucky and so was I; so were you. You wouldn’t have had Pop to play all those card games with. God watched over our family with extra concern, care, and love that day.

After all that, I had the idea that we should start in a dry goods business; this lead to the grocery store. My brother JB helped to get us started. But we worked hard to establish customers and make money to stay in business and made sure we had something to eat everyday. Eventually, we made a profit and became established. People needed a store like that but times were hard on everyone, like they were during the Great Depression. We also had to skimp and ration things like milk, butter, and sugar, even after WW II was over, into 1947. Through difficult times and good, your grandfather ran that store and it turned into a prosperous business and remained that way for 28 years.

We had a delivery truck that your uncles drove. They would make deliveries all over the city and help their uncle who catered weddings and a few other functions. Your mom even drove the truck sometimes. Though the days were long, working at the store, we lived better because of that store and I knew your grandfather would be safe. We were able to meet a lot of nice people from all walks of Life: doctors, veterans, other retired and active miners, and many babcis (grandmothers) who had to have some extra food around on a Sunday, in case company dropped over; which it usually did. Lots of kids would buy groceries or candy and sodas, as we offered all of those treats later on. There were a lot of grocery stores throughout the valley back then; there had to be as there were no chains like Acme or Lion’s Pride.”

I mentioned to my grandparents how I have a cousin, on my father’s side that has lived 60 years down the alley from me. She opened a neighborhood store over 40 years ago and it is still open. She and her family sell home made, hand-made sauces and pastas and sell a few of the basics. They used to sell more stuff when I was younger but have since specialized. I love their food. These ‘little’ stores are a necessity because they are a convenience and help retain a bit of the past.

My grandmother continues. “We were busy but always had time for each other. When both of us were working, Carl, then Fr. Ted, would be in charge of the kids. All was well because your grandfather was right next door, at the store. Your mom and uncles would play or listen to the radio. Then, in 1956, we bought our first TV and were able to see Elvis on the Ed Sullivan show. We had moved into the modern age. We had a refrigerator. No more icebox or waiting for the iceman to deliver the daily blocks. We still had the hand-cranked washing machine though. Life was a little faster than when I was a girl, but not as fast paced as it is today.

This must be a cycle and people usually have to be reminded to take time to relax and enjoy their family. As we get older, we recall the good times and how Life was simpler. We do not immediately remember the struggles. In fact, we never fully remember the intensity of some of those bad days. Before it slips my mind, let me tell you this: do not forget to remember! Taking pictures or having a video camera is great. But we have to remember the story behind the story to tell to future family members. Otherwise, pictures in particular lose their true meaning.”

As I sat and listened to my grandparents tell about Life in the past and some of the ordinary days that they themselves lived, I remembered other memories also. I remembered some of the stories my mother would tell my sister and I while we would drive up to my grandparents’ home or as we cleared the dinner dishes on a Sunday afternoon. From all that I have heard and learned, I have formulated an idea of what Life was like for my grandparents.

Mary and Charles lived a harsh childhood; quite devoid of the surplus of toys and electronics children have today. They were not considered to be important. My grandfather’s step-father was in the Polish Army. He expected things to be a certain way and it was, for him, as it was in the Old World. He ate before his wife and children and the children were lucky to have something to eat, unless their mother looked out for them. They must have done a lot of playing outside to stay away from him. For some reason also, my grandfather was locked in a closet and all of my grandparents were probably beaten occasionally. They lived very miserable lives, at times. That was the time: ‘Spare the Rod and Spoil the Child’. That’s what went, not that it was correct; just how it was.

Each one, meeting the other, to start a new Life, this was another gift from God for them. They lived, found the equivalency of a soul mate, and raised a healthy family; four children that have helped prosper the family and serve God. The bond to their parents is still very strong. Some families would have considered them poor, especially by the standards of today. That is not the case. They accomplished their goals and their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren prosper because of their love and example. We get ready to celebrate their wedding anniversary and should recall all they have been through. Life was not always easy, but Charles and Mary lived it, and made sure they provided for their children, what they lacked and wanted – a happy home.

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