By Viola Paul, December 12, 2019 — I don’t have any great exciting stories to tell. Most of my life was spent in the same South Philadelphia home and neighborhood. I am 89 years old and have lived in the same house for over 60 years. My story begins with the tragic loss of my husband and ends with the pride of raising my children right, and knowing that they are all doing well before I die.
I was 44 years old, married with three children, a daughter 20 years old, two sons, one 10 years old and one 6 years old, living in an Italian South Philadelphia neighborhood. My husband Joe owned a business in North Philadelphia, and I was a housewife at the time. Our lives drastically changed on September 10, 1974. My husband Joe was held up, shot and killed at his place of business. It happened during the night and I was notified to go to identify the body. I had my sister watch my two young boys, and me and my nephew went to identify my husband Joe who had been shot and killed. This was a devastating time in my life. I found out later that my two young boys snuck out of bed and watched the story on the evening news without me knowing.
Instantly I had no income and had to raise my three children on my own. I was no longer a housewife and had to try to find ways to make money to make ends meet. I bathed and cared for an elderly neighborhood woman, and worked at the neighborhood deli to try to make money. I used to take home the ends and scraps of lunch meat from the deli to help feed my family. I also took a job helping to teach preschool at our neighborhood Catholic school. Times were tough and we were poor, but we were a loving family. I worked hard and did what I had to do to make ends meet. There were no luxuries, my children wore jeans that I had sewed patches on. I had a hand me down junk car that my neighbor sold me from his junkyard for a couple hundred dollars.
We did not go on family vacations, go out to eat at restaurants, or go to the movies, but we still enjoyed life and never felt like we missed out on anything. I was able to send my children to Catholic grade school and high school. My children starting working at a young age, with my oldest son who started working at 11 years old delivering newspapers. My children learned a great deal of responsibility at a young age. I taught them how to do household chores, and look out and take care of each other. I had a very hard life, but the thing I am most proud of is how I raised my three children and the adults that they have become. I am very proud of my children and their families, and the way they raised their families.
All of my three children graduated from college and have good careers. My daughter works for the IRS, my one son is a doctor, and my other son works for a sales company. This is what I am most proud of, I raised my children right. Especially since I only finished until 9th grade.