Another of the houses that defined my life. These are the stories behind the House on Middle Street and how a large part of my mother’s family shaped my own history.
Each story tells more than the obvious. There is always a “background” that is so much more than what others see.
Just because my childhood home is now a parking lot doesn’t mean I don't remember my “growing-up years.”
Neither does the parking lot erase the history of my family nor their parent’s struggles as immigrants.
We all want to fondly recall the halcyon days of our youth, but I will only be able to visit “the place I grew up” through the pages of this book.