My childhood was less than perfect. I’m mostly relieved I can’t remember most of it. But the good stuff sticks with me. The stuff that made me smile. Even the ugly stuff that made me cry, comes through once in awhile, I can’t change the hurt, I can only let it go.

I was the youngest out of 5 children. Being brought up by 2 alcholic parents, wasn’t easy. I have 3 brothers and 1 sister. Edward, Patricia, Thomas and Joseph. I can only go on the stories I was told about my childhood. I know before we really settled down as a family, we were always shipped off to foster care because of the alcohol abuse. My grandparents tried there best to keep us all together, but 5 kids all at once was too much for them. I remember my mom telling me that the one time she was admitted into the hospital, us kids were left in the care of my father. In turn, he was drinking, he was arrested for neglecting his children and we were taken away and put into foster homes. I remember the story that was told to me, that the foster home I was in, used to beat me with a wooden spoon. I may have been maybe 2 years old. I’m glad I don’t have memories of that.

 I remember being in a hospital (I had my apendix taken out, around the age of 3) and my grandpa used to come and see me. He would bring me a pack of Zebra striped gum. I would cry when he would leave.

I don’t remember ever living at the house that was on 33rd and Superior, but I have memories of when my mom was home again, we moved to 25th and Detroit. I believe we lived on the 3rd floor, and my grandparents lived just below us on the 2nd floor. I remember when I was with my Grandma, she would sit me in the high chair and feed me grapes. My grandma potty trained me. I remember the pot so well, it was a white porcelain pot with a red rim. Oh, how she praised me when I went, she would throw her hands in the air and say "big girl". There were times when I was home and my mom would go out to the store, I would cry so hard, saying "please Mommy, don’t go!" But I remained there with my soon to be Step Dad and his freind John. Now John later became a big part of our family. We all called him Uncle Johnny. He was the best guy ever.

The road trips that my grandpa took us on. We would ride for hours, so it seemed. He would say we were going to Seven Hills, and when we get there, I want you to count the hills. In later years, Seven Hills was a place, and not actually 7 hills you can count. McDonalds was our destination. The old time McDonalds, where it was only a walk up window and it had 2 big golden arches on each side of the building. We all would eat, then we would drive all the way back home. Another memory I have when we traveled, is when we went under a bridge, he would honk the horn until we were on the other side of the bridge.

The family origin My great grand parents on my Mothers side was from Ireland. My great grandparents on my Fathers side was from Poland. So, I am a little of both worlds, Irish and polish. I never knew my grandparents on my Fathers side. I guess they died way before I was old enough to know them.

So, with how the story went, my mom divorced my father over what he had done to us kids. And she had to do alot of things before she could get us kids back. As far as I know, my sister, older brother and I was placed in the care of my grandparents. So, my mom married (at the time) her AA sponsor Jim. He helped her so much. He helped her get on her feet. In stories I have heard, he also helped her overcome her Agoraphobia. She was afraid to walk too close to a building, fearing something would fall on her. She also feared walking too close to the road, for she feared that a car would hit her. I remember my mom telling me how he made her walk across the Detroit/Superior bridge by herself. Which took a long time for her to do. The pure fear would stop her in her tracks. She at times, was deathly afraid of being alone. I, in later years suffered the same thing, which I will cover in later chapters.

Before my mom married  my then step dad, my father had past away due to alcohol abuse. My mom and step dad, together they bought a house big enough for all of us 5 kids. My mom was stable, she got herself a job at a bakery. The home life was taking shape. We all got to come home, finally. Even Uncle Johnny came with us. Our family was whole again. We were stable, we were together and some of us were very happy!

My Father was 44 when he passed away and I was only 3 years old. This was back in 1966. The only memory I have of him is a vision I recall of a man sitting under a tree. This is where he died. He was a Navy man. He also was a window washer, he washed the windows at the Terminal Tower in Cleveland Ohio. The one reason I keep my last name of Plona, its the only thing I have of him.

My Grandfather, my hero. He was a very intelligent man. Well worded and loved to talk. He also served in the US Navy. He was a Taxi driver for many years. He also was a shipping supervisor for Cleveland Yacht and Supply Co. (I was the last to work there, in another chapter in detail) This is where he retired from. He was married to my Grandmother well over 60 years, til she passed away before him. He used to call me "Slim". He also was a great cook, I loved his chili and he would make Kidney stew just for me. He taught me how to do the Scramble puzzles in the paper. He would help me by giving me clues. I do them daily today, along with the crossword puzzles.

My Grandmother, oh she had the Irish accent. I loved listening to her talk. She was a stay at home women. She had Epilepsy, which prevented her from working. She had only one child, my mother. She always said that my mom was her miracle baby. She had us kids trained really well, whenever we came in we were to give her a kiss on the cheek, and she would return the kiss. The same thing whenever we would leave. She used to call me "bubbles"

My stepfather, a great man in my eyes. He was originally from Canada. He served in the US Army. He was the President of the Liquor Stores. (what a thing). He had his strickness about him, but I loved him. He died of a heart attack when I was 11 years old. Things I remember about him, he would come in from work about 6pm and I would get his brief case and take it to his room. Some nights when I was still awake, I could hear the TV, he would watch the news and late night TV with Johnny Carson. I would hear "HEEERREE’s Johnny!" and then drift off to sleep. He gave me an allowence of $2 a week. He gave me a bonus one time when he lost his watch, and I found it under the dryer.

Uncle Johnny. My best friend in all the world. He served in the US Army as well. I received his military flag at his funeral. He is buried in the same cemetary as my step dad. He was an elephant trainer for the circus. I would love to sit and listen to his stories and look at his pictures. Oh I loved my Uncle Johnny. He used to call me "little bit" We used to play rummy all the time. He would always buy me a Hershey Candy bar. And he even gave me an allowence, so I could go out and get what I wanted. I was always intrigued by how he would roll his own cigarettes. He had a small cloth bag of tobacco and his rolling papers. I often wondered how he didn’t burn his nose when he lit one.

My mother was a great women, in her own way. One would have to look past her desease and see who she was. She worked at a bakery for many years. One of the places was Giant Tigers. She retired from Cleveland Yacht and Supply Co. She too, like her dad, was the shipping supervisor. She used to call me "Shorts", but sadly later on in her years, when she became sick, she changed it to "Turtle" I treasure the change-because she made it sound so cute.