Immigrent daughter 2

Continuation of immigrant daughter blog…..there are so many things to write about. Here is a picture of front of the cigsar store,  My one sister is taking the picture and I don’t know where my oldest brother was at the time.

 I want to say that my father was the boss.  There was no talking back, and when he spoke it was the last word period. Growing up you knew where you stood in the family.  When my two oldest sisters went to work they would bring their paychecks home and turn it over to dad and he would give them an allowance from it.

My second sister was a booker keeper in one of the factories.  Back then bookkeepers had lots of responsibility of payroll, keeping taxes paid and attendance hours of workers.  She knew each and every worker that worked in the factory. She was good and so honest that the owners wanted to have her baby sit their children.  When she was asked to sit for two families on the same night, she would recommend her younger sister.  Now this is my third sister who worked in the restaurant and was still in school so this is how she got to baby sit. 

This third sister was smart in school, all A’s. It was hard for me being the youngest following a sister who was so smart even with the years between us because teachers never forgot other family members especially being the only Greek family in town.  We walked to school all twelve grades at the same place, three separate buildings. I heard so many times, “Why can’t you do like your sisters?”  Like I said being the youngest of six was not the best at times.                                                                                                                                

I mentioned to you my father taught himself to read and write English.  He went on to be elected to the Board of Education whenI was in high school. More about that phase of my life later.

                                                                             

In the last post I had a picture of the first restaurant and a picture of me inside the restaurant behind the counter as a little girl.  I was able to run out the back door to play outside in the large yard behind the restaurant. The family played ball, and dad would come out and bat the ball over the barn and we would have to go find it.  One day, instead of the ball going straight over the barn, it went to the right and broke a window in the doctors house.  Dad ran in and left us kids out there to face the music. The doctor was kind but his wife was not.  She never gave the balls back but after she cooled, down the doctor would throw the balls back in the yard.  I think he knew who really broke the window.

Here is a picture of mom and kids out back in the yard.

My sisters are just a year apart then after two years my brother and another two and a half years my next brother and another two years I came in the picture. I really can’t imagine what she went through. I thought I worked hard but I can’t hold a candle to what she did.

See you later, until next time  I am immigrant daughter.