It felt like I had been waiting for hours, I located the station clock on the wall but it had stopped at 8:35, the same time as my wrist watch, that was a strange coincidence. I was worried that my daughter would not be able to make it home. My eyes were growing weary and I felt very tired,going back to my seat and sitting down, I closed my eyes and dreamt of the past.It was a like a dream that I have never experienced before, the colors were vibrant and rich and the littlest details were brought to my attention. It did not feel as a dream but as something with real substance that I could touch and feel. I was a child again.

The Smith's ,who were the caretakers of the house where I was staying thought it would be a good idea if I got a job, I was about 12 years old at the time when I began delivering the Evening Bulletin newspaper. They explained how having a job would teach me responsibility and the money I made would go towards house expenses. I knew that the State paid them to take care of me, but I thought it better not to argue the point as they were always telling me how much they spent for my welfare, they even told me more than once that they would send me back to the orphanage if I cost them any more than what it was costing them now. They called it an unnecessary expense.

My route covered most of where I lived up to Twelfth street. Twelfth street was a "Eye-talian" area as Mr Smith called them , some of the people there could not speak English but they would buy the paper to practice and learn.I worked seven days a week, once a week the Smiths would collect from the customers and pick up my pay. What they didn't know was that some customers gave me a tip, especially around the holidays, I always thanked them whether the tip was a nickel or a few pennies, this was money that I stashed away , hiding it in a coffee tin under the back steps.There were some nice people on my route that would offer me something to drink on hot summer days or an offer to warm up in their house in the winter, I always turned them down politely.

There was one particular family , they were very nice to me and more than once I wanted to take them up on their offer for something to eat or drink , but I didn't. All the people in the neighborhood seemed to know and respect them. They would call out to Mr LaMonza, Come va Signore Papa ? or to Mrs LaMonza, Come va Signorina Mama ? I thought this was their first names so I would always address them as that , Signore Papa and Signorina Mama, now I mangled the language a bit but they always had a big smile when I addressed them in this way.

Usually I would deliver their newspaper at about 5 in the evening, during good weather they would often be back in their garden, it was only a small patch of ground but it was full to the brim with tomato plants, pepper plants, lettuce plants and grape vines, in the center of it all was a fig tree. With loving care they would prune and cultivate their garden. Neighbors would come visit and never leave empty handed.

Signorina Mama had a gift to heal animals, people could not afford veterinarians in those days and they would bring their sick pets or strays that they found on the street, injured , starving and hurt, and Mrs LaMonza would nurse them back to health. She could take an animal that was broken and hurt and make them whole again . I liked these people but I could never let my guard down. I vowed to myself that I would never open up to anyone again.

I knew their son Anthony was an amateur boxer, I delivered a newspaper to Mickey who was the owner and trainer of the gym where Anthony trained. Mickey, with his gruff voice and bulbous features would greet me with a low crouching boxing stance and show me how to jab and throw combinations , he would say to me "Kid you are a natural, you got the moves and the style of the great ones", I would have loved to join his gym and learn how to box but the Smiths said it would be a unnecessary expense.

It was a Christmas Eve , many years ago , I was about 14 then, I was making my deliveries, and a lot of people were very generous with tips that day, I had saved enough to buy a nice pair of shoes that I seen in a shop on Passyunk avenue. I only had one pair of shoes which were sturdy work boots, a lot of kids in school had been making comments about them , of course not directly to my face. I had mentioned new shoes to the Smiths but of course they said no, my boots were adequate.

There was another reason why I wanted new shoes, I made many deliveries to the merchants who owned shops on the avenue, In the stationery store, there worked a young girl who looked to be around my age, she was so pretty that my heart skipped a beat whenever I saw her, but I was too nervous to approach her. Every time I passed there I would try to catch a glimpse of her. Her long hair reached past her shoulders , her eyes were dark and sparkling with eyelashes that were like miniature hand fans, I had never seen anything more beautiful then her. To look at her was to forget everything else, the only thing that existed was her and I longed for a smile or an acknowledgement.

I would often pass the store several times trying to find a chance just to say hello, but she was always busy, tending to her work, filling shelves, waiting on customers.I was in torment , she would fill my thoughts for hours on end , from the time I awoke in the morning to the time I went to bed. Finally I came up with a plan,a perfect plan, a plan so great that I could not believe I thought of it. I always had a few extra newspapers left over, these were freebies that we could take home or give away to potential customers, I would go to her store Christmas eve and give the owner a free copy, I had planed to leave it with her and introduce my self, it was the perfect plan , I had practiced what I would say to her for hours on end, being careful not to let the Smiths hear me lest they think I was cracking up.

At last the day arrived, her store would be my last stop, I approached the door and took hold of the handle and opened it, a tiny bell went off announcing my arrival, it was only a matter of 10 feet to my object of affection, she slowly looked up and my palms began to sweat, I kept repeating be calm, steady, steady.Finally I reached the counter, I opened my mouth to give my prepared speech which I had rehearsed dozens of times in my best deep masculine voice but what came out was a high note that could not be measured on any musical scale followed by a persistent cough attack, there is something about coughing several times in a row, your eyes start to tear, I was momentarily paralyzed in a fit of persistent coughing, I just slid the newspaper on the counter and walked out completely defeated and full of embarrassment.The only thing salvageable was that I learned her name from her name tag, it was Sara.

I felt like a complete failure as I walked down the avenue, completely lost in my thoughts, I passed by the gym , they were closing up shop, I wished Mickey and the guys a Merry Christmas and I made my way home. Now this neighborhood was not considered dangerous , it had its share of gangsters but usually they would not bother a kid but there were some places you should avoid because of the gangs. My mind was still numb and I was not thinking , I made the mistake of taking a shortcut through an alley way.

I didn't notice right away there was a guy standing at the very end of the alley, as I got closer the hairs on the back of my head began to stand up , I remember thinking maybe I should turn around and retrace my steps back out of the alley , as I turned, I notice there was another guy following me . In my neighborhood you learned not to show fear, the crooks and the gangs could smell fear like a shark smells blood in the water. I trudged on keeping my eye on the exit. Without warning a snowball hits me hard on the back, then another goes whizzing by my face. I turn and look at my attacker, by this time the guy that had been in front of me is now beside me, a fist is thrown hitting me on the side of my face, dazing me. They threw me against the wall and demand my money and he reaches into the pockets of my jacket. As if by instinct I throw a uppercut that hits him under the chin, to my amazement he goes flying back and lands on his rear end, but there is no time for a celebration as the other guy throws a punch which lands right on my nose, the pain was excruciating but I had to keep fighting, if I hit the ground it was all over.

I remembered the instructions from Mickey , crouch low and throw jabs, keep moving , bobbing and weaving . I was keeping them at bay, by doing what Mick's said to do , his words in my mind, "keep jabbing". I actually thought I could win this one and escape with my dignity and my money intact , but hope quickly faded when out of the corner of my eye I saw this large lumbering figure approaching the fight, it was Fat Freddie, a fireplug of a guy, five feet eight, two hundred and eighty pounds of fat and freckles, every freshman in my school feared him including some of the teachers.

With one paw like hand he grabbed me by the jacket and with his other hand he slapped me so hard that my nose began to bleed , he pulled my jacket with a violent tug ripping the zipper away from the material, with his great weight he pinned me against the wall, my head hitting the brick with a brutal thud, I was defeated ready to give up, my slumping body only held up my the girth of my opponent. He then backed away as he made his getaway, my body falling head first into the snow. I was laying there in a semi conscious state when Anthony from the gym picked me up, he asked me what happened ? but I was too groggy to tell him. I remember him saying that I was a bleeder. He threw me over his shoulder and brought me to his home.

Mrs LaMonza took one look at me and said something in Italian , I must have been a sight as my nose was bleeding,and my face was covered in cuts and bruises, with my eyes slowly swelling. She took the tattered jacket from my body, all I remember thinking was that this was an unnecessary expense and that I was resigned to being sent back to the orphanage, as she gently wiped my face I began to cry, it started as a sob but the sobs turned to weeping. As hard as I tried to stop, I could not hold it back, it had been a very long time since I had cried. I looked up at her and she held me in her arms with my face cradled against hers.

Suddenly the door opened wide and shut with a bang, there stood Sara !. She did not notice me right away as she said , "Mom, I'm home !", and then she realized that there was a stranger in the house, the look on her face must have mimicked mine as I was in shock as well. I remember her saying, "What is he doing here ?" , I was thinking the same thing about her. She can't be related to these people , could she ?I had made a very bad first impression and now this. She kept looking at me in shock as she walked up stairs.

Mrs LaMonza brought me into the kitchen where she sat me in a chair by the stove, there were pots cooking and boiling and in the oven there was the smell of fresh baked bread, she told Anthony to bring a shirt, pants and a jacket that he had out grown,it was in a closet at the top of the steps. Hearing that, I thought that there would be a chance that I might not have to be sent back to the orphanage, she then told Anthony to also bring a pair of shoes that were on the top shelf of his closet.

She then turned to me and said , You will eat dinner with us tonight and then we will take you home. Nobody leaves my kitchen with out eating, I politely said that I couldn't , I did not want her to go to any trouble for me, she said nonsense ! Look at my table we always have an extra seat and a place for an unexpected guest. It did not take much convincing for me to agree as I really did not want to go home, to be able to eat here with these people and with Sara and to get a pair of shoes was an unexpected Christmas gift.