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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Husband and Wife (08/08/14)
It’s 7am and there is a nice breeze, but the heat of the day’s sun is slowly making its way up and over the neighborhood skyline. I live five houses from my destination and I can’t wait to get to the third house. Walking quickly I’m counting them down, five, four, three and all of sudden the morning air is filled with the best smell ever. The smell of freshly baked bread.

I was 8 years old and it was the first day of summer vacation. All the other kids on the street were home watching cartoons and eating Capt. Crunch. I was headed to the corner of Knapp Street and Lexington Avenue, where I will be watching the best Italian bread in the world being made in the family bakery. Hot out of the oven, split down the center and smothered with a stick of butter and lightly sprinkled with freshly ground basil.

Outside the back door my Uncle Joe while lighting his cigar yells out “Johnny boy! Listen; before you leave go upstairs and see Aunt Lucy, she’s baking cookies. Make sure you go and say hi and give her a kiss. Take as much as you want, Lord knows I don’t need any. Just this morning I had to let out my suspenders.” I don’t know what it was, but she made the best cookies. It must have been all that love that she put into them. Looking back on them now they were truly cakes from heaven. My very own Manna.

Inside I can see the trays of dough getting ready to rise now that their journey from the kneading machine is over. I can see the table occupied by butter, basil, tomatoes, and a pot of the strongest coffee ever. Some of them getting ready to harmonize with the next batch of bread. All of these sights and smells are attacking me all at once and they are all wonderful. But the most wonderful sight of all was standing right in the middle of all of this.

There waiting for me was the warmest greeting anyone could get. My Uncle Sal and Aunt Grace would always welcome me with open arms. I can still him yelling, “Johnny come here” giving me the biggest hug. Grabbing me with his callused hands and hugging against his pasta made belly, smelling like garlic and sweat. Aunt Grace says, “Salvatore let him go it’s my turn.”

Smiling she says, “Giovanni” and starts hugging and kissing me, pinching my cheeks. Grace was as soft and as pure as the flour they used in the bread. Sal takes out his handkerchief, licks it and then wipes the lipstick off my face. “Giovanni come and get something to eat.” There was something about the way she said my name. Maybe it was because she said it in Italian. I don’t know, but what ever it was it was almost as beautiful as she was.

Lunch time has us all piling next door into Grace’s kitchen. My other uncles would be back from the morning bread deliveries. We would all gather around this long wooden table. One of my uncles would always say Grace and sometimes I got to say it with them.

Grace would always add that we were blessed to be able to break bread together. Sometimes when customers couldn’t pay right away or couldn’t pay at all, the bread would still be delivered. Straight from the Lord’s Prayer, Give us this day our daily bread, no matter what.
I never forgot that and have kept these ways close to me and have tried to continue to deliver whether it’s with some type of food or with word.

Then we ate. Bowls full of pasta, bowls full of sausage and meatballs. Salad, garlic bread, and of course red wine, dandelion wine and my favorite, Anisette. Times were different back then. Families were always together. Always spending time with one another and growing together. Having meals meant something back then. Meal times were a cherished part of the day. It didn’t matter how old you were, you ate and drank together. You shared life together, I miss those days.

The other cool part was that everyone was on a first name basis. It was special to be around the adults back then and to learn from them. Grace and Sal were the perfect husband and wife. The best aunt and uncle, and the best friends anyone could ever have.
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This article has been read 342 times
Member Comments
Member
Date
Larry Whittington
08/15/14
A good family story.

I found one missing word:"I can still (hear) him yelling".

I liked the family history/traditions in the story. Good job.
C D Swanson 
08/17/14
I loved this story and appreciated the "Italian" heritage and family setting. Great job with this. The couple sounded like they were a fun loving couple who embraced life and enjoyed every moment.

God bless~
Jason Barnett
08/17/14
This was a great story. I think we all can point back to some couple from our childhood that represented the roles of husband and wife the way God intended it.

I loved the emphasis your family had on meal time together. This something my wife started doing more of recently, and i has helped us grow with one another.

God bless your family and you for carrying on the gift of giving they passed on you! Great job!
Amelia Brown 
08/21/14
This story is as warm as the freshly made breads from the bakery. All my senses were present throughout reading.

I would just advice that you double-check for grammatical errors. Also, the paragraph below needs a little bit of re-wording to be more clear in meaning...

"I can see the table occupied by butter, basil, tomatoes, and a pot of the strongest coffee ever. Some of them (Who or what exactly is some of them?)getting ready to harmonize with the next batch of bread. All of these sights and smells are attacking me all at once and they are all wonderful. But the most wonderful sight of all was standing right in the middle of all of this (This last sentence is kind of redundant; the MC is seeing everything at once, and everything is wonderful. Rewording it could make the sentence more effective.)"

Overall, a very welcoming piece. I can just imagine it brings back a lot of happy memories for you. Keep writing.