Maria's Childhood Memories as Told to Her Daughter - Part 4

When my siblings and I came to America, we lived in Rehoboth. The house was so tiny. There were two little rooms separated by curtains. One room was the kitchen. The other was a bedroom- one bedroom for six people. There was no electricity, no gas, no running water. When we had to use the bathroom, we had to trek to the woods.

My father wanted to go home to the Azores. My sister was so depressed she was physically ill.

Then we moved to Providence, Rhode Island. It was a relief to be in the city. We finally felt that we had bettered ourselves by coming to America.

We had electricity, oil heat, gas for cooking, running water in the kitchen. We had a bathroom which was no more than a closet with a toilet, no sink, no bathtub, no shower. And we had to share it with five other families! It was still better than using the woods.

Once, when my mother was sick, my father went to the store to buy supplies. He saw what he thought was a great bargain- giant rolls of toilet paper. He bought one roll, brought it home, and sawed it into three regular sized rolls of toilet paper. Unfortunately, his bargain toilet paper turned out to be paper towels. We had never seen paper towels before. Needless to say, we clogged the communal toilet.

On that same shopping trip, my father bought a small package of cupcakes with a lovely picture of the cupcakes on the box. When he opened the package at home, he discovered that it was a package of mix. We had never seen that before.

Back then, shaving cream came in a tube, just like toothpaste. Many times, my father brushed his teeth with shaving cream or shaved his face with toothpaste. The first time he brushed his teeth with shaving cream, he turned to my mother and said, "Why is this toothpaste so bubbly?"

One day, my father had to take a bus with our neighbor to go to a doctor's appointment. The bus was packed. My father had gotten a seat when he got on the bus. Every passenger after he boarded had to stand. There was a woman staring at my father. He was beginning to get self conscious because she seemed to be concentrating her gaze on his crotch.