Memories are moments of time that resurface when we least expect them too. Some of my fondest memories are of my grandparents, who when I was growing up lived at 523 Fargo Ave. in Buffalo, New York. They moved here from Dunkirk, NY (year unknown). Back then Fargo was part of the 'west side' of the city and housed many Italian families. It was a two-family dwelling and my grandparents lived upstairs from their landlady Mrs. Muffaletto.

My grandfather was born in Montalbano Elicona in the province of Messina, Sicily on 28 December 1887 (or 01 January 1887 from Petition For Citizenship Records) to Antonio Millemaci and the former Santa DelPopolo. He had three brothers: Giuseppe, Giovanni, Nicola, and a sister Provvidenza. To date the only other information I have about my grandfather's family is that all three brothers were killed during WWI. We were told that Giovanni, the youngest (about 17 or so) was killed and buried behind what is now a convent in Gorizia. There is a story my father once told me about my great-uncle Nicola. He went to look for my great-uncle Giuseppe during the war. He never found him. He returned to Montalbano and literally died of a broken heart. They were that close. But their names, along with other relatives, are inscribed on a monument honoring all the men of the village who fought during the war located near the Chiesa di Maria SS. Provvidenza.

According to records, my Grandfather emigrated to the United States on or about March 20, 1913 thru Ellis Island on the SS. Gugliemo and settled in Dunkirk, NY. Information about his life there is sketchy but we know he was a member of Il Circolo Colombo or Columbus Club of Dunkirk. He married my grandmother (the former Rosa Arlotta) in September of 1916, and they had four sons: Anthony (20 June 1917-16 August 1989), Philip (25 June 1917-25 August 1996), Joseph (21 February 1920-13 August 1997), and Nicholas (25 February 1925-17 September 1996 -my father.) They lived in Dunkirk for a few years and then moved to Buffalo to Fargo Ave. where they lived until my grandfather's passing on August 18, 1956.

My grandfather Rosario was a laborer by trade. Back then I guess that meant he worked odd jobs. I remember hearing that he carried 25 lbs. of flour on his back over the Peace Bridge (the bridge between Canada and the USA.) He made his own Italian sausage and made wonderful dandelion wine..:-)) Speaking of those sausages...!!

From what I've been told, I was quite the chatterer...nah....:-)))) In the basement of the house was an old coal furnace. And my grandfather used to take me to the basement to let me help cook the sausages. My Aunt Rozlyn's father (Mr. Montante) and some of Papa's other friends would also go down to the basement and talk (or try too) while the sausages were cooking. Uhm...I guess I kept them going because I never jabbering :-)) I seem to remember being around adults at a very early age...and recall those times more than my siblings. I guess why I cherish those moments so much. I can relate to them things about the grandfather they never knew.

The dining room and parlor were the rooms that my grandfather were in the most. The dining room glistened with the dark mahogany wood that went halfway up the walls. On one wall was a large mahogany credenza which was always draped with an intricately made lace runner and the matching table was always covered in a freshly starched white linen tablecloth. This was "the meeting place" for the men in the family. My grandfather, my father, and my uncles would all congregate around the table while my mother and aunts would help my grandmother in the kitchen (More about that in my grandmother's story..:-))

As with most families, the adults sat at the larger table and the children were at a smaller one, and I believe my cousins and I were seated in the living room for our weekly Sunday dinners. After we finished, we would help clear off the tables, and "Papa" would get out his accordian and play for us in the parlor. I remember there was an unusual square-type box in this room. At the time I had no idea what it was, but I later found out it was a television...:-)) I was told much later that there was one show that we could watch...and that was Howdy Doody...!! My father was a long-time friend of Buffalo Bob Smith so that program was allowed..:-))

There were the usual family get-togethers and ohhhhhhh those family picnics !! Once a year we would have the greatest family reunions. We would be up before sunrise to get the "best" spot...have some breakfast and play games. Of course there was always a place to pitch horseshoes, play bocce, or sit at a table and play cards. In the middle to late afternoon...the large speckled pans of baked pasta, sausages on the grill, greens, dessert and wine would make their appearances on the picnic tables and everyone enjoyed quite a feast !! The older aunts and uncles were always fun to be around even though sometimes they were difficult to understand.

I remember my grandfather as a sweet, gentle but firm man. He was loving but stern. His "broken" English may have sounded funny to some people but never to me. I was told I used to converse in Sicilian with my grandmother but my grandfather wanted English spoken...so much for my learning of the language...even though I used to hear it when they thought I wasn't listening...:-))

Unfortunately, my memories were all too brief. My grandfather passed away a few weeks before I turned 6. But I have some of the best memories...his smile, the twinkle in his eye, his love for his grandchildren and his family to hold onto. It is also unfortunate that my two sisters and brother didn't have the chance to know Papa like I did. But now at least they know him...through me.