🏝️ Portofino Dreams
We pulled into a condo complex called Portofino. Walking through the arches, the first thing I saw was a pool shimmering in the Florida sun. For a Bronx kid, it felt like paradise. A three-bedroom condo with new carpet and appliances — more space than we had ever known.
The neighbors weren’t thrilled with us, but that didn’t stop the chaos:
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🏊 Swimming like we owned the pool
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🚲 Spray-painting secondhand bikes in the parking lot
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🙃 Running wild through the halls
We treated Portofino like it was just another block.
📚 School Struggles
While Dad stayed behind in New York, Mom did everything: setting up house, enrolling us in school, and holding down the fort. Cathy and Billy got into Catholic school, but there wasn’t room for me.
At the public school, the principal warned Mom that my sneakers might get stolen right off my feet. That was all she needed to hear. She found me a place at a Lutheran school, where I thrived — until tuition became too much.
💔 When It All Fell Apart
By the time Dad finally came to Florida, the plan was already unraveling.
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The judge who rented their second condo never paid rent, and they lost it.
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Dad poured what was left into a real estate office that turned out to be a scam.
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Within two years, the condos, the money, and the stability were gone.
🎶 Heading Home
So once again, we loaded up the Corolla, John Denver singing us north.
🏠 Back to New York
Aunt Pat (a fierce, devoted, loving, supportive force as well) took us in (she was recently divorced from Uncle Jim) at her beautiful stone house in Crestwood — which was already home to her, my cousins her friend Miep from Holland. her 3 bdrm, 1 1/2 bathroom become home to 3 adults and 7 kids that spring of 76'. Mom insisted we go to school in the Bronx (that is where her and dad planned to find an apt) so instead of starting in 1 school and ending in another she enrolled us back at Holy Family and drove the 30–45 minutes every day that semester. She never complained, never was too tired. She ironed our uniforms, loaded us in the car and drove, everyday.
Finally, when Dad returned from Florida, we settled into an apartment on Blackrock Ave. That gritty Bronx block, with Holy Family standing tall on the corner, became the home of my happiest childhood memories.