Bacci, my Polish Grammy

I've been getting pretty nostalgic reading my dad's hand written journals. Every time I sit and read his writing, I feel like he's here with me. He had such neat penmanship, you can tell he is a product of Catholic School.

My father loved his mother. He brought us to see her every Sunday, right up until the day Bacci died.

Bacci is pictured to the left at a Christmas Eve celebration at my house in 1968.

Here's a journal entry that my dad wrote about his mom. Bacci was living with us for a short time after a hospital stay, dad wrote this while Bacci sat and watched.

Sunday, April 30, 1972

My Dairy

I am writing this journal with my mother sitting to the left of me. I told her how I have written about her and she cried with a silent joy.

My mother is in constant pain. She has an ulcer on her leg and skin cancer on her nose. The remarkable thing about her is that she will not quit.

She loves to come over to my house and get together with the children and my wife.

She told me how the pain in her leg gets to be so bad that she will not say anything to my sister Jay until she is asleep. Only then she will get up during the night and change the bandage and apply the medicine the doctor gave her.

I cannot look at any woman and say they are the weaker sex because my mother is the living example of all the women in the world, "God bless them."