also had dignity and a dry sense of humor. I think all of his children inherited his sense of humor. (Grandma Santa was a funny person, too, but she usually didn't know she was being funny. Star naked, etc.)
About his birthday, March 19, Papa Joe told would comment, "St. Joseph, Joe Simeone, and the Swallows." He also told us he came to America on "The Volcano."
When I would stay overnight at their house, I would sleep with Grandma Santa. Grandpa Joe
would get up around 5 a.m. to start his workday. He said he had to get to the shop early, so
the people could bring in their shoes on the way to work. When he was ready to go downstairs,
he would peek in Grandma's door. I would pop up and want to talk to him, but he would put
his fingers to his lips and say, "Shh, the Pope's sleeping." I would giggle and go back to sleep.
As a kid, I thought he meant the real Pope, but now I think he was talking about Grandma!
Grandpa Joe would come home from the shop around 5 p.m. Sometimes he would take a
shot of the whiskey he kept under the sink. But just one, and then only once in a while.
For dinner he would always have a plain dish of pasta, know then, in all it's forms, as
spaghetti. If he liked what Grandma was serving to whomever happened to be there, he
would have a small portion.
In the summer, Papa Joe would sit on the steps of their large porch that ran across the
entire front of the house. During the long summer evenings, after being on his feet all day, he would water his small patch of lawn. When the water mingled with the air and fell on the parched grass, it gave off a magnificent aroma that I can still smell on certain evenings and
it always brings to mind my Grandfather. As a shoemaker, sometimes during the depression,
he would bring home only five cents, but the riches he passed onto his family were
priceless.
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