Something I wanted to share concerning my book, this commentary explains my book so much better than I can. 

Jean,

I am half way through your book. It is what your father wanted to pass on to you. It is not a novel and should not be judged as such. Does it reveal aspects of your father’s character? Yes. Does it convey a way of life that you probably wouldn’t see today? Yes. Is there historical information in the book? Yes. I definitely get a feel of how different life was then to what it is now. For instance, people seemed more generous than now. I am absolutely amazed at the daring of your father and his traveling companions. One might be led to believe that youth is immortal. Should you have had it published to share with others what your father gave you? Why not? It was important to you. Will you sell books to strangers? Probably few. People mostly read fiction. They look for story development, detailed action, heroes and villains. They aren’t going to get that in your book. Your father wasn’t writing a book for publication nor were you. He had one purpose and he fulfilled it. Published memoirs are written by famous people (or their ghost writers). Episodes in their lives (usually known by the public) are dramatized. (What was Hillary thinking when she found out about Monica Lewinsky?) I am enjoying the book and look forward to reading the last segment. Not only is it informational of the times but it has its touching moments. (The girl in the window in that small town in Arizona – what a life to live) Your father was an empathetic person. The book reminds me somewhat of Studs Terrell’s “Hard Times,” a book about the Depression. He interviews many people of all walks of life and printed much of what they told him. What your father wrote would be good source material for a novelist that wanted to weave a story at that time. I suspect, though, that there isn’t a market for your book. It wasn’t written to satisfy the general public’s wants. But I’m glad that you published it. You honor your father. And people you know who will read your book will recognize what an exceptional thing he did, opening himself to his daughter about who he was (mistakes and all), and they will appreciate reading what he wrote.

 Harold 

Thank you Harold,

I appreciate your reply and I am so happy that you received from my book much of what I seen in my father's story. I too know it will not be a seller and I really didn't do it for that, I did it because I believe his story will warm the heart of anyone who reads it. Thank you for your message, I was feeling down yesterday thinking I have never been successful at anything, silly me but we have those days now and again however to have touched you with his story tells me it is and was a very fine story to share.

Farther into Part I

 

     

     While I am writing, I keep thinking about how we spent Christmas. I just cannot find the words to tell you how much I loved that holiday. Sometimes, when I think of the way I felt then I get tears in my eyes; not because of gifts, we never got anything much. I remember one Christmas I received a ten-cent book and a tin rake and shovel, they were about six inches long; I would lie on my bed face down with my head hanging over the side and make believe I was a farmer, and rake on the wooden floor. I read the book and was happy to receive it.

Before I go any further, I will say a few words about the way we observed our Christmas. Weeks before the holiday mom would make paper flowers, lots of them. Dad would make frames out of wire to fit the frames of the pictures of Saints that hung on our walls, when the flowers were complete, they were put around the frames dad made and put on the pictures. Dad would then hang a wire holder from the ceiling, in the holder he would put a glass filled with cooking oil, on top of the oil a wick was put to float, he would then light the wick and it would stay lit for days. The house would then be cleaned from top to bottom, I mean everything was cleaned, all the curtains the floors scrubbed we all helped. Mom would do all the cooking the day before Christmas, Christmas Eve; she would make many pastries and a seven-course dinner all of which were made of grains. Dad would go outside, get some hay and place it under the tablecloth in the center of the table, to formed a little mound, just in back of the mound he would place two candles and a cross. At dinner time the candles were lit and mom would serve the food one course at a time. She would then sit down and we would eat a little of that dish, and again she would get up take that dish away and bring another dish, we would eat a little of it and this went on until all seven dishes were served; it was always such a nice meal. After dinner, nothing had to be done or could be done, as the day was Christmas Eve the holiday of holidays and we could not touch a broom or do any work what so ever. I remember it was such a warm feeling; Christmas was the best time in my young life because at home it seemed that there was peace in every ones heart. The day represented Christ; I think that was why everyone was mellow and kind. The next day, Christmas Day we would get up and there the Christmas tree would be, all dressed up with apples, oranges a few candies, dad had put hay under the tree as he always did. There was of course lots of food from Christmas Eve’s dinner. We all would go to morning service at church, and the church would be all-prettied up with flowers everywhere. The choir would sing Christmas songs and it just made one feel wonderful. Oh, I remember those days so well. We kids would lie under the tree with our heads on the hay, it would smell so nice under there, and so cozy we would fall asleep. In the evening dad would read to us from two old Polish books, they were both about six inches square and four inches thick. You see mom was unable to read so dad was elected. The stories were fun stories, mom would get a big thrill and enjoy them so very much, it was a wonderful way to spend Christmas day; I will never forget those Christmas days. 

My Father's Young Life: A Memoir

I thought it would be good to share exerts from my book. 

My Father's Young Life: A Memoir. 

The story takes you on a trip through the Americana of the past, born in 1909 this young boy leaves his family home in Fall River Massachusetts at age 16 and goes to the Big Apple, New York City, to find work and a place to live. Walk the streets of New York with him, see Mott Street, Times Square, Battery Park, and the Bowery, meet the people he met, and join him in his travels across the U. S., by thumb, car, foot and boxcars. Visit many states and even Mexico of the 20’s, experience in thought the deep depression, W.P. A., prohibition and so much more. Sit back and re-live if only in a wonderful story this man’s life, what he saw, what he thought and what he had to share. His story begins with his early childhood on through his marriage and the birth of his children, the joys, the sorrows, the experience of another time, life in a different America. Great read!

In the problems of today's world it may be right to now visit and appreciate the hard times and the courage of and earlier time. 

Go To Amazon - My Father's Young Life