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Ignazio and Carmela Cino had four children: Rose, Vincenzo, Alfonso and Salvatore. Their daughter, Rose, had come to America after marrying Angelo Trento. While she was living in Newark, her brother Alfonso came for a visit. Around the same time, Italy had entered into World War I. Alfonso volunteered in the Italian Army and unfortunately was killed in action.

Ignazio and Carmela came to America from Sicily with their two sons Vincenzo and Salvatore circa 1921, hoping to find a better life. About two years later Rosina Buscarino arrived to marry Vincenzo.

Salvatore Cino, also known as "Turridu`," was a great influence on all of us. He always made Christmas come alive, with hand made decorations, setting up the "Presipio" which he made out of tin. He also made his own Christmas tree lights. He would take me to New York to the Italian radio station and introduce me to his friends. He was very involved as an actor in the Italian theatre in Newark.

During the Depression, when unemployment was very high, he worked in the Art’s in the W.P.A., which had been created by the government. Salvatore was very talented. He was a sculpturer and once made a plaster replica of the Italian Pavilion from the 1939 World’s Fair.

Our mother, Rosina, was a courageous pioneer. At the tender age of 18 she left Italy to marry Vincenzo. She lived with his family for awhile. This was very difficult for her. I realize now that I should have inquired more about Mama’s early days in Sicily. I know her father died when she was quite young. She had to leave school in her fifth year to help in the house. After her mother died, she and her two brothers, Gaspare, and Giacinto lived with her older sister, and her husband. Shortly thereafter, she came to America to get married. Gaspare joined the Navy and Giacinto remained at home and eventually joined the Army and later settled in Rome, after the War.

Our father, Vincenzo was a disciplinarian who always wanted everything done right. At times, he seemed unreasonable. This was especially true with his six daughters. He was overprotective of them. But take it from me, he was proud of all of his children.

Our father instilled a strict work ethic in his children. We all had to do our share. The boys worked with Papa. The girls worked with Mama.

In Newark, Papa was known as "cowboy," because of his experience with horses. He had spent six years in the service of his country, Italy, during World War I. He worked in the Transportation Corp, bringing supplies to the front lines with mule teams.

As strict as Papa was on one hand, on the other hand Mama was very patient and understanding. She believed her children could do no wrong. She always made our holidays special. Christmas Eve was a hard working holiday for us. However, when we got home, there was every kind of fish imaginable for dinner. Baccala, shrimp, smelts, eels, and my favorite: pasta with sardines. It was an unforgettable experience.

On Christmas morning, Mama would lay white sheets over the bedspreads, upon which she would place her homemade ravioli. We would sit at the dinner table for hours with my grandparents and Uncle Sam. Sometimes relatives came from New York. After dinner, we had espresso and pastries from Ferrara’s in New York, which Nat and I had purchased in the morning.

After World War II, there was "Club 17" on Boyden Street. Charlie Ilaria was also a member. At our first annual dance, held at the Wideway Ballroom in Newark, it has gotten very late and I had decided to go home. Carm was at the dance with Mike Picone. She asked me not to lock the front door, so Papa would not have to get up to answer the door. Of course, I forgot. When Carm came home, the door was locked. Having no alternative, Carm had to ring the doorbell. Papa answered it. Enough said!

As Nat and I grew up together, I remember him being a fun loving young boy who was mischievous and always laughing. He always had a good time. Like most children, he wasn’t fond of school, but he endured it.

When we were not in school, we spent our free time helping our father as he went to the farmer’s market. We carried produce from one end of the market to our wagon, and later, to a truck. This is how we became acquainted with the fish and produce business.

During the wine season, from late September through October, we helped Papa deliver winepresses and grinders, which he rented out for one or two days. We would set them up in the cellars. Hard work, but fun. Most importantly, we were together.

At 17, I obtained my driver’s license. Nat was 15. Papa owned a 1933 Buick. Nat learned how to drive at a very young age. While I was in the Army, my father had put his car in the garages on D’Auria Street. We lived on Boyden Street. Nat had keys made to the garage, without permission. He took the keys and decided to go joy riding with his friends. Once, he took the car and lost his brakes on Eagle Rock Avenue. He was able to stop the car by hitting the curb. Even Nat was frightened by this episode.

Nat went into the Army and was stationed in Okinawa. He thought the girls were homely when he first arrived. By month’s end he said they all began to look like Hedy Lemar.

After we were discharged from the Army, we returned home and slept in the same room on State Street. We decided to purchase a car for our joint use. We paid for it on installment. It was a Pontiac, and we agreed to use it on alternate days. Incidentally, Nat talked me into getting new leopard slipcovers for the car.

I truly loved being with Nat. He was a loving person. All of my memories of him are good. This made coming to terms with his death very difficult. His doctors told us he would have suffered much pain and anguish had he lived with ALS, a dreaded disease. I am comforted knowing he avoided a horrible and painful death.

My memories of all of my sisters and my brother Peter are good ones as well. They have each raised their families in such a way, that I know Mama and Papa were very proud of.

Our parents and grandparents came to America from Sicily with a purpose to raise their children so they could enjoy a better life. They struggled and endured through the Depression. Our parents lived to see their children married and settled. This was a source of great satisfaction to them. Our children can be proud of their heritage.