As a typical inner city youth whose home was the Northward of Newark, NJ during the early seventies through early eighties eating Italian cuisine was a favorite pastime of mine with family and friends.  I can recall several Italian restaurants on Bloomfield Avenue and a few others in or near Belleville, NJ like Nanina's in the Park.  I would order a pizza pie from Frank's Pizzaria or Casa Di Pizza and my grandmother who worked for then Martland Hospital on Bergen Street aka UMDNJ - University of Medicine and Dentistry of New Jersey would drive with me to pick it up.  On many other occasions my Dad and I would take a walk or ride up Bloomfield Avenue and go to Dickie Dee's and order Italian hotdogs or Italian Sausages accordingly.  It's funny because today and even back then residents would consider Jimmy Buffs as the end all in this very delicious food for the "Ave" as we nicknamed Bloomfield Avenue.  My father enjoyed steaks and fries or potatos but he and I couldn't resist the urge or tendancy to eat our favorite fast food.  Not McDonald's, Burger King, Ginos, Kentucky Fried Chicken or even Blimpie.  No.  For us it was one of several Italian restaurants in the Northward of Newark, New Jersey.

Following Mario Puzo' s epic saga of an Italian American family and their aspirations are my father's interpretation of how things transcend ethnicity like protection and love for family.  These themes were brilliantly captured in the novel and also in the movie.  The scene with the commission followed the brutal execution of Santino or Sonny played by James Caan.  In this Sit down or meeting the Dons and under bosses work out differences without escalation.  Marlon Brandi aka Vito Corleone seeks no vengeance for the loss of his boy Sonny but warns his colleagues that someone would answer for anything including an accident if Michael his youngest son met his demise.  The lesson there was that the eye for eye and tooth for tooth caveat has limitations in LCN - La Cosa Nostra or "Our Thing".  Let vengeance if any son reside with the Lord my father would say to me.  Stand up and be a man but don't seek every fight in a vengeful manner.  All life even that of someone who constantly devalues yours is precious.  Therefore, never hide behind a shield once you accept Jesus is your Lord.  The Lord despises cowardice by association with authority.  You must maintain a respectable demeanor in and out of a uniform.  If the only time another person respects you is because of a badge and firearm or title other than human being and Christian, you've already given into Satan he would say.

My father had long been honorably discharged from service as an 82nd Airborne division and MP in the Army during the post Korean conflict.  He said although he like working in manufacturing he wanted to be an Attorney.  Somehow between law enforcement and service he found that the appropriate balance was as a Defense Attorney or Criminal Defense.  He never pursued this career path but assured me that poor or working class in the United States were the base upon which so much is decided upon irrespective of its helpful or adverse effects.  It wasn't that all wealthy people were sociopathic but dissassociated or unconnected to the populace.  The law was or is the way to bridge the gap or make more narrow the chasm between the haves and have more.

When both parents are called by the same name it gets confusing as a kid.  My father was called Bob or Bobby versus the more formal Robert by family and friends.  My mother's name is Bobbie.  Everyone called her Bobbie Jean or Bobbie but occasionally people called her Bob.  Needless to say when I answered the telephone and someone asked:  "May I speak to Bob"?  I exclaimed or asked:  "Which one"?  Laughter followed on the other side by the caller.  I guess they thought about it afterwards.  To resolve the issue of confusion my mother would hear the phone ring and say:  "Bob, pick up the phone"!  Gee, half sleep one day I asked my father was mom taking to herself when hearing her say this?

Growing up in the inner city of Newark, New Jersey meant that on occasion walking or catching the 13 Broad Street or 25 plus transfer from Broad and Market Street were a daily residue in the Summers of 1973-1975.  My father didn't drive.  He let friends, family and my mother drive.  Other than that, he walked or caught the bus or train.  My Dad was an easy laid back fella with an amiable smile and chuckled when laughing.  He enjoyed taking me across town or East Orange, New Jersey to the barbershop.  We talked while walking and he joked with me.  Always assuring me It's important to be serious about life but learn too not take life too seriously because according to him:  "the entire world is crazy"!