Growing up as a little girl was not easy. I was the youngest, my brother was six years older than me. I remember when I was three years old watching my parents argue. my dad hitting my mom. I would go upstairs call the police they would come .my father who was the detective, would show his badge and the police would walk away. This was many years ago thank God things are different now. So many of these insane incidents, that I will get into later on. I come from an Italian family in Bensonhurst. Of course, with all the furniture covered with plastic slip covers. My mom did not work. She was a simple woman subservient to my father every Sunday was pasta. God forbid you didn’t wait for dad, who said at the head of the table. My brother was sort of connected to the wise guys. who every year we would have a barbecue. Luis the lump Frankie, the fish. mafia names were in my backyard. Reminded me of a Rodney Dangerfield movie, but we all had a good time after that was cards. my mother would serve the coffee and make hundreds of dollars from those men as a thank you. this is just the beginning of many other stories and tragedies that occurred in my life. I haven’t even begun to start.