Saturday, February 04, 2017


The situation was unbearable. It was time for me to take a stance and assert myself.

Mom and Dad were teasing me, and as a 6-year old, I had my principles. Getting me to eat stew with green peas was not making me happy. There were those big pieces of potatoes and a red sauce that I didn't like the potatoes. It was a Monday night and after the Sunday dinner, the pasta and meat, the salads and later that evening the sandwiches that Dad would make, the stew were a letdown.

Dad was not answering my pleas for help, he was doing what any feckless husband would do, what I still do to this day, throwing me under the bus by keeping his mouth shut.

Mom, on the other hand, had pretty definite ideas about my dietary laws, they didn't matter. (The nerve of Mom!)

"Hmmmm, delicious!" She ate some stew and I didn't believe her.
"Right Anthony?" Anthony was the official name of Dad when Mom wanted cooperation.
Dad: "Hmmmm" I could always rely on him making it worse.

Rising from my chair at the end of the kitchen table, I went into the big closet off the dining room and pulled out the suitcase, taking it into my room and started packing. After I was done packing as many toys that would fit, I set out to leave home. Make it on my own, never ever having to eat stew in a red sauce with those green peas and big potatoes.

Down the two flights of stairs, I set out toward Rockaway avenue, hungry with no place to go. But I would show them, I wasn't taking any stew tonight. About halfway up the block I turned around and looked back, there, sticking out of the third floor of my old home where Mom and Dad watching. Suddenly I realized something, where was I going? Could I go to Grandma's? No, she would turn me in. My Aunt Marie? No, I couldn't cross over to Atlantic Avenue, besides I would have to go back past the apartment with them looking at me.

Hunger was settling into my stomach, I decided I would run away the next day.

That night I had Stew with green peas and big fat potato slices-cold.


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