A little story

I was maybe three years old, sitting on the steps that led to "the dungeon" when I met someone who played one of the most important roles in my life that anyone will ever play. You see, Grams and Papa lived in Chicago, on Newcastle. That was the house mom and her six sisters grew up in. It had very little living space and, to this day, I still have no idea how seven sisters where able to share one bathroom. I loved that house. My favorite memories took place at that house. The family room had a "big" tv (at least what we thought was big) and papa's leather chair was in front of the bar. Behind the bar were all types of alcohol bottles that I could not pronounce, but it was what was on top of the bar that interested me. There were always jars filled with my favorite things: pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, licorice, peanuts, and more. Next to Papa's leather chair was a little table with an ash tray on it--this is where he put the shells to his pumpkin and sunflower seeds. Papa was my hero. He could de-shell a seed in seconds in his mouth without even using his hands. He would let me sit on his lap while he watched the Cubs games and I pretended to be interested but, really, just liked being with him.

The next room was the dining room. It was not anything spectacular, just a big table where the adults got to eat. That was where I sat the first time I ever ate frogs legs. I am pretty sure that was the only time I ever ate frog legs. There was always a clean, beige tablecloth that the kids always knew how to spill Grams' zugu on. There was a doorway in between the dinning room and the kitchen. I remember watching myself in the mirrors on the doorway. The kitchen was another great place. I remember Grandma always in there, being the best Italian wife/mama she could be. Either cooking her zugu (pasta sauce), washing dishes, or playing cards. It was always a challenge to dip the bread into the zugu to sneak a taste while she wasn't looking. In the hallway next to the kitchen was a little square hole in the wall that was covered with a mini-door. This was the laundry shoot--a place to throw your clothes so they would go straight ino the basement. This laundry shoot led to "the dungeon."

In most houses we had a lot of fun playing in the basements, but not at Grams and Papa's. Even the stairs leading into the dungeon were dark and creepy. The basement was always dark. It had a damp feel to it and there were plenty off little nooks and crannys to hide in. When we were kids, you were brave if you went downstairs; daring if you sat on the stairs.

So there I was, sitting on the stairs, working up the bravery to go downstairs. Grams was in the basement doing laundry, which was the place you would find her if she was not in the kitchen. In walked this strange boy who sat down on the stairs next to me.

"My name's Justin," he says. "Who are you?"
"My name is Monaca," I say.
"What are you doing here?" he asks.
"This is my grandma's house."
"This is my grandma's house!"
"Moooom, Daaaaad!" we yell in unison. "Why do we have the same grandma?"
"Well," our parents say, "you are cousins."
And the two new best friends go running off, and they have remained best friends since.

Now no one really knows if that story is actually true, but it is the story that both Justin and I tell, and our stories always match up. I am not sure if it really happened or if we talked about it so many times that it just became a memory for us. Sometimes if you say something enough times you start to believe it yourself.

Justin and I are the best of friends, along with our other cousins. We used to do everything together. From going into the "forest" and having mud-fights to going to the park and playing time warp to riding our bikes to the blockbuster to buy candy to fishing in the pond behind the Jenero's house to going to each others basketball, volleyball, or soccer games to building forts and watching movies under them to playing power rangers in the front yard to running through the sprinklers in the back yard to taking hundreds of pictures of our dogs (Spunky, Pepper, and Champ) to playing various games we made up (the note game!) to playing the LaMonaca family card game (Shanghai) to just being good friends. The older we get the crazier the things we do. From running survivor and the mole to going to Florida together to taking a cousins trip to New Jersey (no parents) to inviting ourselves along on each other's vacations to going skiing in Wisconsin to visiting each other's colleges to poker tournaments to playing our own version of "Who Want to be a Millionaire" to just being good friends.

I would not be who I am today if it were not for my family.