In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Papa Loves Mambo.”

The term Melting Pot is the description of all the music that was played while growing up. There was no one genre of music that was played in the household, or anywhere else I went at that period in life. Today when I hear those sounds it brings back feelings as well as the memories and pictures in my brain that I see internally from that period of time. Even though as a youngster it was unrecognized that the period was a cherish time. Doing the things and going to events and experiencing would be itched in my memory. There were people, on one side of the Atlantic who we often visited, music and the smell of liquor in the air that was present, the adults dancing and socializing while we the children were running around doing what children do. Yet, it did not occur to me that we were visiting my aunt’s husband’s brother. The husband of my Aunt made him my Uncle and I guess his brother is considered an Uncle In Law. A little factor my parents neglected to tell us for some reason. Perhaps the family of the In-Laws was not considered real blood family. Yet, I wondered why we visited that house frequently, maybe it was because other than him and my mother’s brother and my Uncle in Law there were no other blood relative living in Europe where we were living at the time. But wait, I just remembered my Mother’s Cousin Sonny the other blood relative, we went to get togethers at his place too. In any event flash forward, in New York City as a teenager and going to family get togethers, and the presence of my Uncle In Law and his family. As well as some other people who were on the other side of the Atlantic when I was a youngster. Damm, come to think about it I guess I need to talk to my parents to identify the real relationships. Seem like everyone migrated back to the Americas around the same period. Even when I hear some of the music played at the NYC gatherings it brings back feelings and pictures in my mind of one of the most wonderful time of my life