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| Lillian Silver's story that was published in Woman's World magazine! |
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1942
My father, Casper George Abbene, was born on May 12, 1896 in Brooklyn, New York City, New York. He had rickets so he didn't walk until he was six years old. He was placed on a steamer trunk in front of the piano. And would play all day long.
When he was old enough, he took a job in the movie theater where he played the piano in the orchestra pit to fit the movie picture. Well, the talkies were invented. To say the least, my dad lost his job. By that time the Depression was on him, his wife and children. He lost it all.
But he got a job playing in a local bar and grill at night. One night, a talent scout from Hollywood came into the bar. He asked my father if he would accept a job in a western movie, playing the piano in a bar room scene.
He went home and asked my mother if she wanted to go to California. She said, "No". In the meantime I'm saying, "Yes". I was ten years old.
In 1962, my brother was asked to transfer to San Francisco with his young bride to his firm's new office there. His bride said, "No". Again I was screaming on the inside.
In the meantime one of my unspoken desires was to move to California. Then in 1982, my husband asked me if I would want to go to California. I said, "When?". We have been living in the East Bay for twenty-three years.
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| Spaghetti Every Sunday *
"Chicken Every Sunday" was a great American tradition in New York City during the fifties. But in my family, our tradition was spaghetti and meatballs with tomato sauce--not only every Sunday but every Thursday as well. This was the tradition of southern Italians and Sicilians. It still hasn't changed after the past fifty years. Back then, my mother and I would go to early mass. Then we'd start cooking a seven-course meal for one p.m. minestrone, pasta with meatballs, salad with lettuce vinegar and oil, extra crispy Italian bread served with wine, soda and beer to wash everything down. For a last course demitasse with a biscotti and seasonal fruit was served.
Another tradition began when I married a Jewish man. I continued to have fish on Friday, not because I had to but because I wanted to. Getting off the train after a hard day's work and not wanting to cook, I stopped in at the appetizer store. The counterman welcomed me as his good Catholic customer who still ate fish on Friday. I bought white fish, potato salad, coleslaw, lox, bagels, cream cheese, cream soda, and strudel.
Over a cup of coffee we talked about our day.
* Published in the Catholic Women's Network periodical in December 2003, January 2004 and February 2004.
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| My Favorite Christmas Song,
“The Little Drummer Boy” *
A fairly new Christmas song, "The Little Drummer Boy", portrays the true and holy spirit of Christmas and the innocent love of a young boy for the baby, Jesus. I can hear a group of youngsters still singing this song as they went from house to house in my old neighborhood on Christmas Eve inviting people to Midnight Mass.
The boy honors and brings all he has to offer to the new born King, as we should do also. As Mary sees and hears the drummer boy, she smiles at him for the gifts he brings. She knows they are all poor, but the light of their love warms and shines all over the manger. Mary looks down in approval. In the simplicity of the boy's love for the Baby Jesus, we can find the heart of our faith.
* Published in the Catholic Voice of Okland, California on December 15, 2003.
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