I was born on the 11th of November,1968 in the house of my uncle, Andrew Golson, a medical doctor in North End, Boston. I am the eldest of three children. My mother is an American while my father is a second generation Italian immigrant. We spoke English and Italian at home. My younger siblings are Andrew and Joan. We all grew up in this area.The North End Boston is a middle-class neighborhood which is dominated by Italian immigrant families who comprise the working class of America. My first dim recollection is that of my mom's pasta dish which she would serve at dinner. This dish reminds me of love, comfort and a feeling of belonging - a feeling of really being home.
I attended elementary school at the Michelangelo school in Boston. The school resembles our closely-knit neighborhood. We knew everybody who studied in that school. Most of my relatives also sent their children there. The school presented a very safe and stable environment for growing up.The North End is my personal point of reference. It is where I grew up and where I started enduring friendships. I grew up in a very close family. My parents would always give us a hug, a kiss, a word of kindness or encouragement. Then everyday, we would take a great home-cooked meal which made all the difference in the world.As a young child, I was exposed to Italian classical music performed by Pavarotti and recently Andrea Bocelli. My father would mimic arias by these world famous performers and we would end up in a hilarious situation at home.
During week-ends, my parents would take us to partake of great meals in family-run neighborhood restaurants like the Blue Front, Giro's, or Felicia's, or at Grandma's house. I always savor the best ingredients in these 'home-cooked' dishes." Like my younger siblings, I also learned how to cook well.
Noise became music to my ears. I grew up with a lot of noise - smoke, beeping horns, a lot of traffic and more noise. We would play near Cross and Hanover streets. We would spend the whole day playing until we can play no more since we were very tired already. My family lived beside two houses which hosted two agreeable and well-to-do Italian immigrant families.
My childhood and youth were spent in my parent's house which is a sturdy and well-built house. It has three bedrooms, a huge kitchen and two study rooms, one each for my father and mother. We would study in my father's study room. The house has a small garden filled with flowers in the summer time, which we children helped to tend.
I grew up like other healthy and normal kids, my only illness being an attack of chicken pox and German measles. My immunity to disease was evidently greater than that of either of my siblings. I remained perfectly healthy in spite of the uncertain preventive measures which were prevalent then. My mother would always care for us patiently whenever we got sick. Hence, my siblings felt comforted whenever they got sick.
My first training in reading and writing came from my mother, who was a very well-educated woman. My mother is a graduate of Boston University where she took up education. She works in a high school near our home. My father studied engineering at Boston University. However, he decided to take over my grandfather's business after graduation. Thus, he never got the chance to work somewhere else.
I am indebted to my parents for my intellectual life. They instilled in me the love for reading and study. They also helped me to think about things in a critical manner. They presented an open environment at home where we can exchange ideas and opinions about anything. They also shared with me the Catholic religion. I became close to our parish priest as I was growing up.
My mother had great pedagogical ability which seemed to run in our family. We excelled in grade school and high school. During week-ends, my mother would work as a tutor to some important and distinguished families in Boston and her academic abilities were widely