Jennie

Yesterday was my mother's birthday. Jennie Veronica Abitabile Hitchcock was born on

May 8,1919  Lexington Avenue, Cambridge, Massachusetts. She was not an easy person to get along with to say the least! But I do miss her and have loads of stories to tell about her.  I usually joke about all the bad years and give a spin to most of the stories to cover the sadness of my mother's adult life.
A friend once told me I do that because ," she still has power over you." - I think I staggered around the rest of day because my friend was spot on with that observation.

Jennie had four sisters, the youngest died at an early age - I believe she had lung trouble or some sort of TB that hit juveniles pretty hard. The sisters were all attractive. The family, up and down the entire block, were close. Summer trips to New Hampshire and shopping in Boston.
Marion, Mary and Lorraine - the Abitabile girls had fun with cousins, went to clubs and had boyfriends. My mother adored her father who had an Italian grocery store. At least that's what it appeared to be - He ran gambling games in the back and had a regular group of players, which included Honey Fitz, at the table each week. The sisters had fur coats that were stunning. Beautiful weddings. A good life.

My mother and father met on a semi blind date.  Dad was stationed in Boston and accompanied his friend , on a double date,to a dinner club and agreed to go out with my mother as a cover for the guy - who was married - so it wouldn't look so bad I guess . Or the guy was a cad. You decide. Anyway, my mother thought my father was such a hill billy. BUT, she was struck by my father's beautiful hands. He in turn, was knocked out by her legs. So she went out with him again. Her notions were confirmed - he was indeed, a real hill billy. He took her to see a Ritz Brothers movie. They were the poor man's version of the Marx Brothers.  My father was howling with laughter. My mother couldn't wait to get out of that theatre and shake this rube.
 But then again, there were those hands. Big, strong hands. Nice moons on the nails. Those hands.
 Those gams.
My father would show up at the house on Lexington Ave with every Liberty. He proposed .  He showed up one afternoon after being out to sea for a while and my grandfather met him on the porch.  My father had returned with a full beard. My dad was handed a tin bowl,straight razor and a mirror. No words were spoken. No lather, no water -  Papa stood there as my father scraped that beard off his face.
Now he could come in and be with the family.
They were married in February of 1947.