It takes a village to raise a child

   In the village that both my parents grew up in everyone knew everyone else from one end of the town to the other one.  If someone was ill or unable to function there was always someone there to help.  Since Roswell was a coal mining town when the air alarm went off everyone knew there was a mining accident and was there to help from preparing food to organizing the wake.  My father's father owned one of the three cars in the whole town.  When people saw him motoring up the road they knew he was paying a visit to the less fortunate at the other end of  town. He often brought food or shoes for the children.  He made sure not to make it appear to be charity it was more of a gift from one friend to another. He payed it forward which was to help him much later, when during his passing during the Spanish flue epidemic, those he helped came forward to help his family.  He made a comfortable living for his family but made sure that he gave back to his community. They made their own chocolates which they sold for a penny a piece at the store mostly to the children of the area.  The insides were dark filling, if you were lucky enough to find a pink filling and showed it to them in the store you got a free piece of chocolate. 
     My mother's family lived at the other end of the town.  Her mother had 12 children spaced roughly 3 years apart throughout her life. There were seven girls and five boys.  As one reached the age and moved out they were there to help the next one coming up behind which took some of the load off the family.  Her father was a coal miner which was a very thankless job in those days.  You took your life in your own hands when you walked into one of the mines.  Whenever you filled up cart with coal you chalked your number  on the side of the cart.  When it got outside the check weigh man could very easily erase your number and chalk the number of someone else and split the cost. In those days you got paid by stint (your limit) of how many coal carts you filled up.  With that situation it was hard to make enough money to support your family.  My mothers Uncle lived in Buffalo, New York which was a stepping off place for most immigrants.  He was quite well to do and started several businesses.  One business of which still exits today called Amigone Funeral Home. He would visit his sister (my Grandmother) in Roswell and he would give her money. My grandfather found out about this and was furious taking it as an insult that he couldn't support his family.  He was a proud man and would have his family do without before taking anything from anyone. My Grandmother was careful from then on to only take the money when he wasn't looking or around.                     

In The Beginning

   My mother was the youngest of 12 children to Italian immigrant parents. Her family were the only Italians living on an all Polish street in the village of Rosewell, Ohio. Atop the mountain village of Vastogirardi, the idea of American prosperity brought both of her parents to America. My father was the only son of the loan groceria (Italian for grocery store) in the same village located near the Blue Shaft coal mine. His genitori (parents), were both immigrants from the Lago Maggiore (Lake Major) area in Northern Italy. His father was a speculator. He was no coal miner and he knew it.
     The Klondike, later renamed Rosewell, is located about six miles outside of New Philadelphia, Ohio. It was first comprise of mainly Italian and Polish immigrants who settled to work in the local coal mines. The reason why immigrants settled in the village and called it the Klondike is because it was like for them as the great Alaska Klondike gold rush was for others in history. Instead of gold, they  were searching for coal.
    My father's father. was not the humble man to work in the coal mines. Instead, he preferred to be a speculator and represent those coal miners who were immigrants and settled in the village.A modern entrepreneur who gave back to his community.   My mother's father much preferred to work hard and stay humble. Seven girls and five boys for my mother's father. Two girls and one boy for my father's father.