Poops and Pops

Dad wasn’t much for close, personal relationships, but he loved having people around him. Mom would say it reminded him of the days when Dad and his brothers would all be home around the dinner table in the family's rowhouse in Astoria, New York. My Dad and his youngest brother Angelo were always the targets of criticism and sarcasm from their older brothers Rocco, Joe, and Michael. However, negative attention was still attention. I always thought that in each of their own peculiar way that they showed their love by relentlessly picking on each other.

It was always fun for me when my brothers, sisters, and parents were home together – all ten of us. As a kid, I especially enjoyed being around the dinner table when Jack was home. Jack always had a wry, sarcastic sense of humor. He seemed invulnerable to Mom's iron will and Dad's staunch, disciplinarian ways that we younger kids experienced in spades.

Jack enjoyed attaching nicknames to everyone – names that would stick for better or for worse. For example, he always called Dad “Pops”. Why? I have no idea, but he could get away with it when the rest of us couldn’t. I do know this though. Since Dad was Pops, it only made sense to Jack that Mom should be called “Poops.” If you knew my Mother, you would understand just how irreverent this moniker was for her.

Anyway, back to sitting around the kitchen table. When I was scolded during mealtime, it was usually to tell me to “sit up straight,” “stop giggling,” “keep my hands to myself,” or “eat what’s in front of you.” Meanwhile, there was Jack sitting in the kitchen chair at the end of the table directly across from me with his knees up to his chin, balancing himself on the back two chair-legs. Mom would say “Jack, don’t do that, you’ll break the chair.” Jack would say something like “But Poops, I’m not hurting anything!” She would then reply with a smile on her face and say “I hate that name!” In this way, he effectively disarmed Mom. He did it all the time. We all knew what he was doing and we learned our lesson well. We all laughed when we heard her new nickname, but didn’t dare repeat it, at least not until we were in our teens. The nametags on all the Christmas gifts that Jack would buy for Mom and Dad would be labeled Poops and Pops respectively.