🚗 The Road Trip
Leaving the Block for Florida
My grandmother’s passing left my mom a small inheritance, and with it, she and my father bought our first house on Haviland Ave. Dad slowly fixed it up, but we didn’t care — it was ours. For the first time, we had stability.
Life on the block was everything:
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⚽ Playing ball in the street
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🛒 Running to the corner grocery
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🏰 Building forts on the dump hill at the corner
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🍇 Watching neighbors’ gardens overflow with grapes and vegetables
🌿 Aunt Joan & Irish Traditions
My Aunt Joan lived across the street with her son, Dominick. She had once been expected to become a nun — in Irish Catholic families, that was considered an honor. My uncle even rose to become a Catholic Cardinal, proof of how deeply those expectations ran.
But Joan chose a different path. After her mother died, she took her inheritance, went to college, and embraced independence in the spirit of the 1970s women’s movement. She later became a single mom after an affair with a married NYC high school principal. To me, she embodied the tug-of-war between family tradition and women’s independence.
👨👩👦 Neighbors Who Shaped My World
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The Lamadores next door, raising four wild boys. Pat was one of the kindest souls, and Walter was gentler than most fathers I knew.
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Two older gentlemen who gave us candy. They said they were brothers, but even as a child I sensed something different — now I think they were likely a couple living quietly in a time when being open wasn’t safe.
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The Gerringers across the street, a family marked by tragedy when one of their sons later took his own life.
At one end of the block was the A&P. At the other stood the Odd Fellows Home — yes, that was really its name, and yes, that’s where the “odd fellows” lived.
⚠️ Dad’s Plan
New York was struggling with crime, strikes, and union layoffs. Dad decided to sell the house and move us to Florida. With the money, they bought two condos in Deerfield Beach — one to live in, one to rent out.
💪 Mom’s Strength
This is where my mom showed her courage. With four kids — Cathy (5th grade), me (3rd), Billy (kindergarten), and little Michael (age 3) — she packed up a Toyota Corolla and drove us all the way to Florida. Her entire family was in New York, but she left everything familiar behind to give us a chance at something better.
On the way, she played John Denver’s Annie’s Song on an 8-track. We knew every word by the time we arrived. That song became our family anthem.