Lillian's story by Lillian Tanguay Schwarzer (from Nancy Brown) 9/13/01
I was born in l9l3 on Burt Street in the second apt of the block on the left side of the street coming up from the main highway which is Columbia St. When I was two years old, we moved to Siggsville to a newly built home of seven rooms on Hathaway St. It was a two story home with four rooms downstairs and three bedrooms upstairs, with a large plot of land with an extra large piece of land for a garden. We had a large barn, shed and chicken coop with a fenced in yard, lots of large raspberry bushes and blackberries, currants, pear trees, apple tree and plum and cherry tree. We had two cows and a small heiffer, two hundred chickens and about thirty rabbits, and a cat.
My Mother had twelve children but four of them were born dead, which left us eight children: five boys and three girls. The eldest was Joseph, Ernie, Dora, Lillian, Homer, Bernard, Roma, Norbert.
We had a special garden where we grew our corn and potatoes for our winter crop, also a large onion patch. My mother did all her own canning which amounted to at least 500 quart jars besides jelly and preserves. She made all her own bread and grew all her own beans. She baked every Saturday. She even canned her own chickens. We also had two large pigs and 2 small ones. They butchered their own pigs with some help from some neighbors and we had a special freezer cupboard where our bacon was stored in winter, besides my mother had some smoked for hams and cooked pigs hocks and pickled and canned them, made pickled eggs by the large crock jars, made h er own butter and separated her cream and made yogurt every day. I remember planting onions for my father even though I was very young but I always liked to work in the garden with him and I used to help him weed after his chores evenings. I also remember doing dishes for my mother in our black cast iron sink. I was young enough where I wasnt going too school yet and small enough to stand on a chair to do dishes, and also I loved to wash handkerchieves and socks on the scrub board, and watch the younger children for my mother so she could sew and do her canning and house chores. We had a rocking cradle and I guess it was Bernard I used to rock until he fell asleep.
Homer was the one who always gave me trouble. He was so mischievous. He was into everything, always getting into mischief like taking clocks or things apart. Ma sure had her hands full with all her brood, besides every Saturday she baked all her own bread and rolls and had her usual weekly Saturday baked beans, besides making sweets like no one else could make.
A Glocka Story by Joan Evangelisti 7/1/01
As I age (become wiser and more sentimental/nostalgic), I find that my memory becomes more acute in some ways and definitely more selective in others (memory lapses definitely increase). Childhood has become somewhat of a gigantic blur, but several moments have survived in rather intense detail.
Family dinner at our house was a pep rally for the Democratic Party and a soapbox for strong pro-labor positions. My father only had an 8th grade education, but he was always knowledgeable about current events, read the newspaper religiously, and voted intelligently. Food, it seemed, was merely an excuse to indoctrinate my brothers and me.- Or, maybe it was just my mother's cooking.
One evening, the main course was Kielbasa, a kind of Polish sausage - thick, juicy, sizzling. My father was on the verge of making an important point about the Bay of Pigs fiasco when he pierced the Kielbasa. With perfect timing, my younger brother, Don, began yelping like a wounded puppy. I, sitting across the table from my father, had just taken a huge bite of my own Kielbasa, and, choosing to live rather than die laughing, spewed what once were delectable morsels, across the table into my father's face. I can still so clearly see his glassess covered with, well, dinner.
I don't remember my father's position on Bay of Pigs but, to this day, I never see, hear, or savor any kind of sausage without hearing Donnie squeal and without seeing my serious father's face splattered.
Checkers with Grandpa by Frank Evangelisti ~ 1/1/99
Thank you for the stories about my grandfather. I enjoyed them very much. Let me add one. Every Sunday after church, Dad, David, and I would visit Grandma and Grandpa. Grandma feed us and gave us each a quarter. We played Grandpa at checkers. Dad always let us win, but Grandpa never once let us win. After his tough training, I was able to play and beat kids at checkers who were much older than me.
Cemetery wall by Nancy Evangelisti ~ 1/1/00
Hi Uncle Carlo......I checked out your home page & enjoyed some of the stories. Grandpa used to walk me up & down that cemetery wall too. I thought I was up soooo high... that I held his hand tightly.
EJ Rememberences by Ted Kucera 7/17/2000
Your father's experiences at EJ were very similar to what my Father used to tell us. I used to help him count his coupons, and I did his taxes for him. We bought our first house in 1944 for just over $4000. My Dad did edge setting on shoe soles. After he retired after 44 years there, his last two fingers tightened up on him and stayed in the postion they had been in when he was working. Our family used EJ Medical too. I think all of us were born at Ideal Hospital.
IBM story reported by Ted Kucera 7/17/2000
I ran into Ted Valenta down here [Florida]. He told us some interesting history about Endicott. He used to sell newspapers on the corner of McKinley and North St. when he was a boy. He said that Tom Watson would have his driver stop and buy newspapers from him. He would give him a dollar tip for a nickel newspaper. That was big money.
9:57 PM 10/24/2006