If I travel as back as I can remember in my life’s memory lane, the first clear pictures which I can find in the archives of my mind are when I was about three or four. Then I had a brother who was two years older and another brother who was two years younger. I remember that my mother used to let our hair grow because my elder brother and I had curly hair while my younger one, who was a little more than baby, had blond, short, straight hair. I remember our Sunday afternoon walks with our parents; mother pushing a big pram with my baby brother inside and I holding the side of the handle of the pram, while my big brother walked hand in hand with my father a few paces in front of us. We would often visit a public garden which was not too far from our hometown. In summer we used to go in our big summer house which was in front of the sea. I remember that we went swimming only when my father could come with us as my mother was afraid that she would not be able to cope with us at sea. My trauma was when I had to put on my swimming suit which was not just a pair of shorts and which was made of wool …………… I could never stand wool against my skin.
Now let me start from the very beginning. Obviously this is not my personal experience because I do not remember it but it is information which my parents told me. I was born in July of 1942 during an air raid. My mother would not go in the shelter to give birth but she risked staying at home. It was towards the end of the second world war and they say that our island was the most bombarded place ever. My hometown was not far from the harbor so it was really dangerous because the harbor was the target of the German and Italian aeroplanes since the British naval ships anchored in the Grand Harbor and Marsamxetto harbor. Many people who lived in the areas around the harbor went to stay at their relatives’ or friends’ homes in villages far away from the port.
Now let’s return back to the first paragraph when I started to register my memories in the computer of my brain. Although I was born during the war, I don’t remember anything about the actual war. When I was three or four, the war was over but one could still see the after effects. Several buildings were still a heap of rubble. Wrecks of ships could be seen half sank in the harbor. Just in front of our house there was one of those air raid shelters. I remember that in those days I could see British soldiers and sailors everywhere because Malta was a British base. These are the imagines I still carry in my mind of those days.
Years rolled by and several things changed. Malta was recovering fast and things returned to normal perhaps a little better. I began to attend school…….the first school I attended was a small local school run by nuns. Then my father who used to work in Valletta, the capital city, used to take me and my big brother to a private school in Valletta which was near his office. But after this I and all my other brothers and sisters attended government primary school. In the meantime, our family was getting bigger. Every time a new baby was born, I remember the party my parents held after it was baptized. I used to be happy to see all the good and delicious things and I was excited to meet all our uncles and aunts on such occasions. This was also true when one of us had his first holy communion.
Now permit me to talk a little about my family. We were nine in all, my parents and seven children, five boys and two girls. All in all we were a happy family but where there are boys there is usually some trouble. I remember our fights and sometimes these fights were rather harsh. I have this bad experience when I had a fight with my brother, the one with blond hair. We were not yet teens but still we would not get it over with till we settled the argument one way or another. In that occasion my younger brother called me names which I didn’t like and we had a round of boxing…………. but seeing that I was bigger and stronger than him, he took refuge in one of our small toilets. He closed the door from the inside. But I was really angry that day and I kept banging on the door with my fists. I succeeded to break the lock but my brother still pushed hard not to let me open the door. This went on for quite some time. Then suddenly I heard a noise and I could easily push the door open. But to my great surprise I saw my brother lying on the floor. I soon discovered that he was so exhausted that he fainted. I cried a lot that day and seeing my brother in that state I really was afraid and did my best to help him recover which he did. Of course, I had to face the music when my father came home that evening. That day I had learned a great lesson and I realized that I had to control my temper in the future not matter what. These fights between us had one positive aspect because this made us tough enough to face bullies in our schools.
A word and a tribute to my dear parents. My father was a man of few words and although he did not show much his feelings he loved us all and he worked hard for the family. He was an accountant and a bookkeeper. He worked for a long time with a company in Valletta but then he worked for his big brother who was a business man. I remember him taking me and another one of the boys to the football stadium to watch our local team play. Perhaps this was the beginning of my great love for this game.
When the family grew in number his great wish was to move into a bigger house. After several attempts which failed, he succeeded to find a large house with a big garden in the same town. All of the family was very excited and we prepare for the transfer with great care. Little did we suspect that this move was going to cause our greatest misfortune! Little did my dear father think that his great wish was to be fatal to him! Weeks after we moved house and when the initial hassle settled down, my father decided to take up gardening as his new hobby. Two of three times a week he would go and do some gardening. There was this old tree which he decided to remove to make more space for flower plants and crops. So he chopped it down but then he set up to dig a large hole around it to remove the rest of the trunk and the roots. It happened that the roots grew around the sewage pipes which were buried deep down in the soil. In fact the roots damaged the pipes and there was a leakage of sewage in the soil. My father was always a good handyman and he succeeded to uproot the tree and fix the sewage A few days later he felt sick and was feverish. Our doctor said that maybe he was coming down with flue or something. In two or three days my poor father was really sick and my mother decided to call a consultant. The consultant noticed that our father had a yellowish color and after asking several questions and examining the patient carefully, he said that our father had a very serious infection and we should call an ambulance to take him to hospital. At the hospital they did their best to cure my father but it was too late and in less than a week my dear father died. He was just 48 years old. I was about twenty, just a couple of years before I got married. My youngest brother was about eight years old. My poor mother now faced a very difficult task to bring up that large family. Only my big brother and I could help with some money as the others were still studying.
My mother was of Italian origin although she was born in Malta. She had a big family and some of her brothers and sisters lived in Rome. There was a time when each one of us children, would go and spend the summer with them. My turn was when I was about twelve years old and I remember that month which I spent with my mother’s unmarried sisters in Rome. I enjoyed myself there but I really, really missed the sea . Anyway my mother was one of those loving, caring mothers who everyone wishes to have. She was very religious and she always made sure that we would say our daily prayers, confess once a week and when it was possible, hear mass even during the week days. She, herself used to go to mass early in the morning every day. On the other hand she was a strong woman and when all the children got married and had children she would try to help everyone of us in every way she could. She died when she was well over 80 after a serious illness.
Now I will continue with my childhood memories. As a school boy I was quite a good student, not that I studied a lot but I did pay attention to what my teachers explained during the lessons. I generally did quite well in the exams and was always promoted. When I finished primary school, it was the custom here to sit for several secondary school entrance examinations. So besides the government secondary school examination, I set for two private secondary schools examinations. In fact I passed from all. One of these schools was the Seminary and my parents adviced me to go to that school. Afterwards I realized that it was their wish that one of their sons would become a priest. Without knowing it they were making great plans for me and had already visualized me all clad in black with a white collar. To make matters worst for me, the spiritual director of the school chose me with several others to attend courses for vocational guidance. He would also send for each one of us individually and drum into our ears that it was God’s will that we were chosen and His will was for us to become priests. Although I always wanted to know and learn about the spiritual side of my life, I never ever imagined me to be a priest. When it was time to decide after finishing the secondary school, I told him bluntly that I did not feel like it to continue. He was really disappointed but my mind was made up even because at that age I was already dreaming of finding the girl of my dreams.
Another factor which made me what I am was that in the evenings I, as many others, used to attend for catechism lessons in what we call ‘M.U.S.E.U.M.’ I really enjoyed going for these meetings even because I made many friends there and the laymen who took care of us were very good, dedicated men. One thing which I looked forward to was the outing which we had every Sunday afternoon. They took us all over the island and in this way I know almost every corner of our beautiful island. We also played football and in summer they would take us to swim. All this beside the fact that they built in us a strong christian character which really is something in these days.
May I end this story by mentioning something about my brothers and sisters. Once we grew and got married and later when mother died, there was no link for us to remain close. Two of my brothers almost vanished from my life. Another two just phone to say Happy Christmas or Happy Birthday. With my youngest brother and one of my sister I am quite close and we phone each other often. I am sorry to say that when my son Daniel got married last summer not all my brothers were present. Believe me I do not hold any grudge against anyone of them and in the past I did my best to keep close to them but………….
I pray God that my own children will always be close and love and help each other. So far my wife and I succeeded to do this beautifully and our wish is that they will be always united even when we are gone.
Quote of the day:
If you keep your nose to the grindstone, you will never see the sky.