Paul Sciria's death stunned me, as well it should given a friendship of over 80 years. We both lived on 154th off Kinsman, a few doors apart, a thoroughly ethnic street, mostly Italians and Jews, with one German family and a Lutheran minister to boot. It never mattered if we had not seen each other for a while; when we met we were instantly transported to his front porch where we played Monopoly from 1935 until we went our separate ways.

Marbles, baseball, sledding, kick the can and football far outweighed any other concerns, although it was on his porch that I saw the last of paper boys going down the street shouting: "Mussolini Invades Ethiopia." Paulie made me a part-time  Italian. I learned a bit just living on the street and later taught myself the tongue, well enough to be president of Il Cenacolo di Cleveland, an Italian literary society. He once published an article in La Gazzeta Italiano, which he founded, describing me as Mezzo Ebrei w Mezzo Italiano. Half Jewish and half Italian. May the God of all of us bless his memory.

Harold Ticktin,

Shaker Heights