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Barbara Baio                                                                                                                                                Chapter 1 Preview

                                                                  In Order To Survive 

Pg. 1

What if a person could re-invent their life, change everything about their existence, their 

job, their home, just to be somewhere else with someone else, doing something else? This is the story of a woman whom at the age of thirty-five suddenly questions her very existence, her reason for being because of what once seemed so desperately to matter in her life had lost all meaning. And now she had to make the decision of what she would do amidst the lackluster of a semblance of a life, to resurrect the hope in this event called life. The action she would take was “in order to survive.”   

But it wasn’t always this way for Victoria Gennarro. It wasn’t like that at all…."look over here" “Victoria no, not there dumpling." I remember Daddy always coming home with a present for I was Daddy’s little girl. My mother hated that but I never realized how much until I was older. “Turn around, it’s on the counter,” my head became dizzy as my father was spinning me around to hide the bubble gum he had placed on the counter. I was only five years old and barely three feet tall and the kitchen counter seemed like a mountaintop from where I was standing. I started to cry because I really wanted to find the bubble gum and I couldn’t wait any longer. I remember my parents laughing about me not finding the candy. And then they gave it to me because they never liked it when I cried. 

Pg.2

It was Easter Sunday morning and mamma wanted to take pictures of my brother and me. It was very important that we were dressed impeccably in our Easter outfits. I remember hating the elastic under my chin holding my Easter bonnet on my head, and my brother didn’t want to take any pictures, either. A photo could never accurately depict his exceptional good looks. The first time I really saw him, I mean not as my brother as the boy who locked me out of his room when his friends came over, but as a young girl gazing at a Greek status and seeing her brother as a man. It was very different from any feeling I ever had and I felt ashamed and I never told anyone. But it wasn’t a school girl oriented gaze. My father was a nice man from what I could tell, I couldn’t really tell and mamma always told everyone how they felt and what they should do, so I really thought about my father except as daddy. He was the one I went to when my mother said no, because no was always the word of the day. After a while, I just stopped asking.  

 Growing up in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn wasn’t like anything else. Bensonhurst had a pulse all of its own, it seemed to exist completely separate from anywhere else in Brooklyn. Bensonhurst had its own set of rules. We moved there when I was three years old from Lindenhurst, Long 

Island. Mamma said that we had to because daddy was going to drop dead on the wheel, because he was driving home from working the night shift in the General Post office on 34th st. 

Pg.3

When my mother sent me up the block to buy bread and milk at the corner deli, I always noticed the guys hanging out at the corner. I never wanted to go home. I wanted to stay on the corner with them. Whatever they were doing, I wanted to do it too. But just a few years later, they had another use for me. 

When we moved to Bensonhurst, my mother enrolled me in Parochial school; she said it was to keep me safe. I always wondered, “safe from what?” That’s when I was introduced to fear. Before that revelation, I always thought I had nothing to fear because God would protect me. There were times in my life that I called to God and I thought he just left. 

Sometimes on holidays, Uncle Johnny and his family would come over for holidays. It was always a big competition over whose family was accomplishing more at that time. I never like when everyone raised their voices and a fight would ensue. I don’t know why everyone kept calling those meetings and holiday, when it seemed more like a war. 

Victoria, “come in and do your homework,” my mamma called from the window. I hated when she did that, it was always so embarrassing because the other mothers never did that. Mamma said “it was because she loved me.” But one day when she called, I couldn’t answer her. You see, I was coaxed by the other children on the block into going into a dog house and I when I went in, they put a plank of sheet rock to lock me in. I never was the same after that, then I knew about fear of isolation. 

Pg.4 

It was Christmas Eve night and I was placing the chocolate chip cookies and glass of milk under the tree in anticipation of Santa to come, “Victoria, we have to tell you something daddy and I, you don’t have to leave those out anymore.” “There is no Santa Claus.” In that one 

fleeting moment, I felt that the world had ceased to exist. My last ounce of hope was gone. “I screamed at my parents and said, why did you have to tell me this so soon?” Just like now, I never wanted to grow up. I hated my parents for ending my childhood so soon. 

 My brother was 12 years old when I was born. It was an accident, well not really but my mamma always joked that she thought she couldn’t have children anymore and then I came along. But somehow I always knew that I wasn’t the choice of the day. 

I wasn’t on my brother’s top ten lists, either. I remember when my brother was babysitting for me and to entertain his friends they dared him to place me in the roasting pan in the oven. Unfortunately, he did it and he paid a high price. When my mamma came home, I blurted out what he did and she boxed him in the mouth until he bled. He never really cared for me after that episode. 

That wasn’t the last escapade, either. Mighty mouse was a very popular cartoon and my brother wanted to try out the tornado effect by wrapping me tightly in a sheet and seeing how fast I could spin. When he let go of the sheet, I slammed into the closet door and broke my nose. When mamma came home all hell broke loose. And so did any relationship with my brother. 

My brother was seventeen and I was five when my brother enlisted in the Air Force. It was the lesser of two evils as my brother could earn a degree. My parents were very patriotic and my brother had to serve in the armed forces, but I would have preferred if he never went at all. I didn’t get him back the same way four years later. 

Pg.5 

Before my brother left for basic training, he got married to the first girl he dated. I don’t think he ever really loved her. What is love anyway? Love is a word not a feeling. But I felt a severe loss, as it was difficult enough when he left for the war but to have him leave never to return to live in the house with our family was heartbreaking. Even as a small child, I realized I lost someone that I never had the chance to know.  

 Did you ever be a part of the planning of an Italian wedding? Don’t be if you can avoid it. It was a nightmare. The day was even gloomy weather. My mamma was screaming all day “where is your brother Jaime?” Jaime was short for Jerome and she screamed again “he went out this morning and he’s still not home and he’s getting married in three hours.” He had left in the morning with his friend Joey Lippo from the neighborhood and he never came back. My mamma had all of Bensonhurst looking for him. I knew he didn’t want to get married. But he was told by his girlfriend’s father Pasquale DeLuca, “that if he went to war without marrying her, she wouldn’t be there when he came back.” I remember mamma saying, “so what,” and daddy didn’t say anything. 

The wedding was a blur all I could remember was my brother coming from the other side of the catering hall, The Pisa, and yes it had a leaning tower in front of the building, and asking me to dance with him. I was in heaven and I wished that I could have told him how I felt. We had an annual ritual of going to Radio City for the Christmas Holidays and I remember going to meet my brother at Times Square station at the information booth standing there in his uniform. I’ve never seen a man as breathtaking and I cherished every moment. 

Pg.6 

Jaime was 6’2” and had jet black hair that almost looked wet with ebony eyes that were deep set and seemed to possess the secrets of eternity in their gaze and his face was structured with chiseled features. I knew my mother questioned if he really could be her flesh and blood – daddy’s part in it was never mentioned. 

Our conversation was always superficial and never reflected what was really going on inside. When Jaime told me he would be leaving the United States for Thailand, my heart left my body and my legs couldn’t hold me up any longer but I remained strong- as strong as a girl of my age could be. After all, someone had to be strong for Jaime.   

The hospital room was becoming a familiar location however, having the array of doctors surrounding me while my buttocks were in the air, as the doctors were examining me during a mystery illness. Victoria was rushed to the emergency room after the New Year’s Holiday, and no one could diagnose why she was bleeding from my rectum. After weeks of bleeding, Victoria was finally given last rites. “Victoria, my name is Father Parisi, the doctor’s tell us they’re not able to find out what is wrong and we want for you to walk with the Lord during this journey.” The frail child looked at him with wide brown eyes, full of doubt and even the blind faith that Victoria learned in catechism was lost...