Christmas Stocking Tales - Page 2

I recalled my father’s father telling me of the poverty he escaped from. One of eight brothers and sisters, my grandfather lived in a tenement on the Lower East Side of Manhattan as a boy in the 1890s. There was no fireplace; there was no heating system. It was known as a cold water flat and they had a small coal heater in the kitchen and a stove. Strangely enough, the bathtub was also in the kitchen, which was obviously the center of family life in more ways than one. When he needed to use the toilet, he had to go all the way down the hall and hope that no one from the other five apartments on his floor was in there using it.

My grandfather slept in the same bed with this three brothers until he was old enough to get out of the house. He had to make his way in the world early on because his father died when he was in third grade, so that ended his educational journey and started him on the road to working for the rest of his life. In the summer the rooms were unbearably hot, but he and his brothers could escape the heat by going upstairs and jumping into the water tower on the roof (apparently all these buildings had them as a way to fight fires in those days). The roof was also a place to play games, including one in which they released rats caught in the traps each night. My grandfather laughed as he recalled he and his brothers emptying at least ten traps each day into the street below from the rooftop. Pity the person walking by at the time.

Christmas was a bleak time in the tenement. They never had a tree in the apartment, but the brothers would each hang an old sock on one of the bedposts in hopes of getting something from Santa Claus. They believed in celebrating the religious aspect of the day, and my grandfather said the night before Christmas always involved the whole family going to visit his grandmother’s apartment in Brooklyn. Even though the famed Brooklyn Bridge was new in those days, the family preferred walking across the East River to get to Williamsburg, since each year the river froze over so solidly that it was a safe and fast path to Norna’s house. They would all go to Mass that morning and then have a modest dinner with Norna in the afternoon. Meat was rarely available, but fish and polenta were to be had and bowls of tapioca pudding for dessert.

Article Author: Victor Lana

Victor Lana has published numerous stories and articles in literary magazines and online, including his favorite haunt here at Blogcritics. His books A Death in Prague (2002),Move (2003), and The Savage Quiet September Sun: A Collection of 9/11 Stories are available at online bookstores. …

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