by Fran Mascioli

Created on: December 11, 2011   Last Updated: December 12, 2011

It was dinnertime in the North Philly neighborhood, and about twenty children were outside kicking balls, playing tag, and sitting on their front steps playing cards. A series of row homes lines the streets, connecting not just buildings, but the families of those that lived inside the houses.

There was the aroma of tomatoes cooking in the air and plenty of sweat rolling down little faces.

"Cindy, Anthony . . . come inside and wash up for dinner," yelled a young woman.

"Set the table," the mother called from the top step.

"Oh, Mom, can't I play tag with the other kids?" inquired Cindy.

"Did the paperboy come yet?" asked her mother, ignoring the youngster's plea.

"Not yet," replied the dark haired eight-year-old.

"What's for dinner?" Anthony asked.

"Lasagna," said her mom as she tossed the salad.

The child’s grandparents owned a grocery store two doors up the street. Her oldest sister was busy with customers and preparing to close the business for the evening. A neighbor walked past on the way to buy milk.

"How are you, Cindy?" asked the older woman.

"Fine, Mrs. Pacitti ... "

... Cindy awoke from her dream with a start. As she got older, she sometimes fell asleep on the couch after work. She tried so hard not to catnap before dinner. Her dreams were always of Tioga Street and her childhood.

She remembered with such clarity her childhood. More and more she thought of her parents. It seemed like just yesterday: she would sit down to the dinner table and listen to her father talk about "how close" he’d come to hitting the number (played with the local bookie) that day. Her mother worked at the store most of the day. One by one, her brothers and sisters would loudly talk over the other to be heard. It was so noisy in the home at night. Cindy was the baby of the family.

They were the traditional Italian family. She'd borrow a veil from her friend, Nancy, and go off early on Sunday morning to attend the local services. She especially loved sitting with her friends and their families. She wished she could go to the Catholic school. She was in the public school system.

She came from a musical family. The neighbors would sit on her front steps some evenings and listen to her father play the guitar and sing. Her grandfather lived on the street, and would sit and play the piano early on Saturday mornings. She loved to go to his house and listen on the stool beside the old upright Baldwin Spinet. Afterward, he would tell her a story.

Cindy had a best friend,

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