To All My Fans in Bensonhurst: A Special Message I was raised on Shore Parkway and 15th Ave. All my friends had last names ending in vowels - we all lived in our basements and saved the buutiful upstairs living room with the red velvet plastic covered furniture for our guests to sit on a oouple of times a year. We all had Godmother's and Godfathers who came by to eat with us some type of pasta with red sauce and some cheese always. except on special occasions when huge slabs of assorted meats were stewed, basted, roasted also in some type of red sauce that we called "gravy". There were two types of mothers: those with bleached blond hair and jersey tight blouses and we had the "big" mamas that still dressed in black, cooked all day long and swore that Jesus would finish all of us off if we continued our Americanized ways. We also had two types of father's; those that always smelled of aftershave and hair grease, with their shiny patent shoes they drove their mistresses around in their Cadillacs. Then we had the poor suckers who were shorter than their "big" wives and half their size and came home to eat fast, down a glass of Chianti and go right to sleep - ready for work at the crack of dawn.
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