Growing Up With My Family in East Harlem

My parents separated when I was three years old. Unfortunately I don’t have too many memories of my dad or his side of the family when I was younger. Luckily my mother’s family was large enough so I had plenty of relatives around. My saving grace at the time were my two sisters Ann and Rose. As most of you might be aware from my blog, Rose passed last July. I still can’t believe she’s gone.

My grandmother Anna had 14 children, some of which were born around the same time as my sisters. I think my grandmother and mother were pregnant at the same time twice. My sisters and my aunts and uncles were very close in age and hung out together. One of my uncles was even younger than both of my sisters.

In my last blog I mentioned that they were both like a mother to me. They took care of me when my mom brought me home from the hospital. Years ago you stood in the hospital for a week or more. Not like today, they throw you out after two days. They fed me (after I was off breast milk), changed me, bathed me, and whatever else needed to be done. I have very fond memories of my loving sisters (see photo below).

MY MOTHER’S FAMILY

Below is a photo of my Aunts, Margie and Carmela, and their husbands, and two of my Uncles Jerry and Mikey. I think this photo was taken in 1949. I don’t know about your family, but most of our uncles were ball breakers. Uncle Louie was the biggest ball breaker of them all, especially with the kids. My sons would dread going to my aunt’s house because he would be there busting their balls. One time he had the kids in the car and he farted really loud and it stunk. Instead of opening the windows he rolled them up and locked them so they couldn’t get any relief or fresh air. They will never forget that.

I grew up mostly with my mother’s family because my parents were divorced and my mom wouldn’t allow my father to see us or our visiting him. My father tried to see me on the sly, but I always felt guilty because my mom would tell us our father walked out on us and she didn’t want us to see him. I found out years later that wasn’t the case. I wish I would have found out sooner instead of when it was too late.

Dad’s Side of the Family

It was when I grew older that I realized my father was a very soft-spoken man and he just threw in the towel. He was tired of fighting with my mom. She was hard to get along with and set in her ways. After that, I understood him a little more and regretted not getting to know him better. My sisters however did visit with my father because they were 14 and 16 when he left. I hardly knew him, but my sisters knew him well having grown up with him in the household. Sadly that wasn’t the case for me.

I did get to know my father’s side a little bit when I became a teenager. After my sister Ann got married, he would pick me up from her apartment in the Bronx and I would spend a little time with him and his family. I remember Uncle Jerry (different Uncle Jerry) mostly and his wife Tina who lived close to my dad and his new family. Uncle Jerry would play the ukulele and sing. I remember one other uncle who they called Joe Balls; Uncle Joe.

They were a very happy and fun loving family always singing, dancing, and drinking. They knew how to have a good time. It’s funny how things work out in the long run and go full circle. I’m friends with some of my cousins from my father’s side on Facebook now many years later. It’s so nice to be able to keep in touch with them and know what is going on in their lives.

The Family That Fights Together Stays Together

Even though my mother’s family had lots of arguments, when push came to shove they would stick together when it was important. When I was about 8 years old, one of the players on a soccer team playing across the street (in the field at Jefferson Park on First Avenue, between 113th and 114th Street) made a rude comment to my grandfather Vito. I don’t remember what the comment was or why he said it, but my Uncle Tommy who was around 18 at the time confronted the soccer player (my grandfather was in his 60’s) and before you know it the entire team was arguing with my uncle.

It took about two seconds for “Tocco and Friends” to come to the rescue. It was a Sunday afternoon so everybody was dressed in their Sunday best. Uncle Mike gave me his suit jacket to hold, then another and before you know it I was holding several suit jackets over my arm while First Avenue became a battlefield. Uncles, cousins, friends, you name it, stopped traffic on First Avenue. Punches were being thrown everywhere! People were standing beside their cars watching the “free for all” and enjoying the show.

When the fight was over, there were a few black eyes and torn shirts to say the least. When it did happen people would say “The Toccos are fighting again” like it was a common occurrence or like we were the Hatfields or McCoys . It wasn’t! The Toccos just protected and defended one another. And no one ever died or got seriously hurt or had a gun. It was just the way it was back then.

Growing Up In East Harlem

Growing up in East Harlem was so different than it is growing up these days. There are no personal bonds or connections now. I wish the children of today could experience that sense of community, the feeling of togetherness that is so non-existent today. It’s a pity that they never will. My children grew up in the 70’s and 80’s in the Bronx and Pelham so they felt a little bit of what we had back then but my grandchildren sadly never will. My sons still tell me often that they wish they could have experienced what growing up in Harlem was like. I wish they could have too.