Dear John, OMG, if you could see your beautiful son and daughter-in-law and experience your grandchildren for even a second, I know it would have healed you as it does me every time I see them. I know that you're looking down from your cloud as I imagine and smiling. I am so proud and happy for Johnny. What a beautiful contribution you made to this world, brother, You and Susan created a beautiful boy who created two beautiful children with Amanda. What a gift.

Merry Christmas, Brother!

Covid really stopped me from traveling for a long time. Even this year, we are staying home for Christmas. I was able to finally meet my great nephew and your grandson, John, who is also named John. Little John is the spitting image of you when you were a baby. He is such a sweet boy, brother, you would be proud of Johnny and Amanda and their beautiful family. Mackenzie your granddaughter would amaze you. I can already see the powerful woman she will grow up to be. No one is going to get anything past this young lady. Merry Christmas, John. Here's a glimpse of your living presents.

I have had a recurring dream about sitting on Uncle Bob's and Aunt Nettie's stoop for years now. Remember when Uncle Bob took you up in his plane and let you fly it for a second under his supervision of course. Mrs. Mongolis's house had caught fire (the house next door in the photo) and she moved out to the delight of us children. Mrs. Mongolis was an old cranky woman with two nasty little dogs that had long white hair and looked exactly like her and barked at us as much as she yelled at us.  Remember? "Get outta fram here get outta fram here you dirty rotten bastages." We would run and hide in the open lot next door to her house behind the bushes and giggle as she shook her cane at us. The street rumor was that she had murdered her very kind husband and kept his body in her basement. We suspected this rumor to be true because Mrs. Mongolis had covered the basement windows from the inside out and lined the outside windows with chicken wire. Sometimes Mrs. Mongolis would try to be nice to us like the time she baked us cookies and left all of her dog's hair in them. We were never allowed to eat the cookies she gave us of course but Mrs. Mongolis was our nemesis when we lived on west 35th street. After her house caught on fire and she moved we had no one to torment. We also learned that the firemen did not discover any bodies in her basement. Poor Mrs. Mongolis who wore those scary Frankenstein-looking shoes was innocent of the crimes we accused her of except she was guilty of making hairy cookies and calling us dirty little bastages.

These photos mark the beginning of the end of our days living in Coney Island. Uncle Bob's house caught fire next and he and Aunt Nettie moved to Long Island with Maureen. Gail got married and moved as did Bobby. Shortly after Uncle Kenny and Aunt Mary moved to Bay Ridge along with Grandma Farrell and Warren and Michael. We went from seeing our relatives every day to only seeing them on holidays. We were the last family left on a block of abandoned and burnt-out houses thanks to the city's failed plan for urban renewal. It took a few months until Dad saved enough money to be able to put a down payment on a house in Marine Park. Dad and mom worked through their vacations and Dad added a night job to be able to do so. We moved to East Flatbush but Coney Island will always be home.