Kitchen Privileges
A Memoir
Chapter One
My first conscious memory is of being three years old and looking down at my new
baby brother with a mixture of curiosity and distress. His crib had not been
delivered on time, and he was sleeping in my doll carriage, thereby displacing
my favorite doll, who was ready for her nap.
Luke and Nora, my father and mother, had kept company for seven years, a typical
Irish courtship. He was forty-two and she pushing forty when they finally tied
the knot. They had Joseph within the year; me, Mary, nineteen months later; and
Mother celebrated her forty-fifth birthday by giving birth to Johnny. The story
is that when the doctor went into her room, saw the newborn in her arms and the
rosary entwined in her fingers, he observed, "I assume this one is Jesus."
Since we weren't Hispanic, in which culture Jesus is a common name, John, the
first cousin of the Holy Family, was the closest Mother could get. Later when we
were all in St. Francis Xavier School and instructed to write J.M.J., which
stood for Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, on the top of our test papers, I thought it ... read full excerpt from: Kitchen Privileges: A Memoir ebook
