Schenectady had held the title of 'The City that Lights and Hauls the World', owing to the presence of the General Electric and American Locomotive companies. It had been the Mecca for hard working tough men, most of them immigrants looking to succeed in their new country. In its process of evolution the city had gone from a frontier Dutch fort in the fifteenth century to the primary departure point on the Erie Canal and through the hay days of World War II it was considered a premier war production center. Its reputation for toughness was not missed by vaudeville whose entourages universally agreed that, if you could make it in Schenectady you could make it.

By the mid-seventies, however, it was a city in trouble. The Locomotive company, due to questionable decisions by its higher management, had ceased to exist. General Electric regarded the area as 'a mature labor force', which meant they could get cheaper help elsewhere and had begun major reductions that kept the city in steady decline.

It was here that Kevin O'Malley and his wife and daughter arrived in the summer of 1986 to begin their new careers. Eight years earlier Kevin had followed the path of so many Irishmen for nearly two centuries, leaving his home and the battleground that was Northern Ireland in search of a better, safer life. In his teens Kevin had joined the Irish Republican Army and, though he still believed in a united Ireland, now saw that many of the things they did were as bad or worse than the things they fought against. He was not by any standard a coward. He had not run from war but rather just resigned. It had taken the first eight years in his new homeland to get his degree in education. At first alone and then with Patricia's help he had worked his way through college in New York City and now was ready for his first real job. Patricia had partially supported them by writing stories and doing commercial art work and had managed to get accepted into Union College as a medical student. She would still contribute to their income by writing for a few of her publishers in Manhattan while earning her degree.

They had found a flat that suited their needs and means on Brandywine Avenue close to Linton High, where Kevin would be teaching, and an easy drive to Patty's classes. Their daughter Sara, who was now in first grade, would attend Elmer Avenue School which was, according to Kevin, a healthy walk for a wee child. Even their gruff landlord seemed to fit nicely. It was, the O'Malleys agreed, simply perfect.

Edward 'Butch' Lontroto was a hard as nails working man. His five and a half foot middle aged body spoke of years of hard work, for which he had no fear. His voice was as thickset as his chest and his hands heavy and callused. At first Patricia had been afraid of him. That fear lasted only minutes as this threatening ogre slipped before the O'Malleys' eyes into the smiling imp few knew him to be. In fact, Butch was quite smitten with the O'Malleys and looked forward to having them as tenants. Patty he felt was as lovely as his wife had been the day they were married and he really enjoyed Kevin's thick brogue and confident smile. Not a man to be taken lightly, Butch felt, but a man to be counted on should the need arise. Yet, it was Sara who stole his heart. The knuckle down construction foreman of a quarter of a century; the same man who would 'go to the bricks' if any of his workers cared to question his decisions man to man, melted like so much putty before the tiny six year old. This was not lost on the O'Malleys as he helped them move into their second floor flat.

"Sure, he's a helper to us and a servant to Missy," Kevin whispered to his wife as they watched their daughter direct the composition of her new room. Trip after trip Butch carried the endless string of boxes up the stairs piling them randomly about the flat, unless of course they were labeled in crayon. These were delivered to Sara and their contents examined and placed where ever she requested. At first Kevin had tried to match him box for box. After an hour it was trip for trip until he gave up. "The man," he puffed after yet another ascent, "is a mountain goat."

"Scuse me," Butch said and brushed past Kevin carrying three boxes of books. By seven that evening the Ryder truck that had taken nearly three days for the O'Malleys to fill sat empty as Butch carried up the last two boxes with Missy on his shoulders. He found an open piece of floor and set them down and then plunked the girl precariously atop a high pile of cartons, brushing his hands with satisfaction.

"Mister O'Malley, what should I call you?" Butch asked pulling out a pack of Camels.

"A bloody papist," Patricia volunteered with a grin.

"I call him Popo," Missy offered.

"Well, all us wops are papists, Mrs. O'Malley and we sort of expect micks to be, unless of course they’re from Syracuse. And I'd have a problem addressing your father as 'Popo', Missy."  

Kevin smiled, noting that Sara's Christian name had been dismissed early on.  "'Kevin' will do fine though a few of the city folk called me 'Cale' for reasons that still escape reason," Kevin replied. "What's all that about Syracuse?"

"Oh. Hah!" Butch laughed. "I see you're not up on your Irish American history." He lit the cigarette with a battered zippo lighter before continuing. "When they were building the canal they tried to get stone masons from New York to work on it. Irish were the best so Governor Clinton went after them. Offered them twice the standard pay but they wouldn't leave the city. This was back in the 1820s. Anyway, they made a second offer the Irishmen couldn't refuse; straight pay and a guaranteed whiskey wagon a week. They came like an army. Settled most of the cities west of here. When the canal was done most of the Protestants settled in Syracuse. The football team there got its name from them."

"And there are no Catholics there?" Patty asked. "What a sane and sensible place Syracuse must be."

"No ma'am. The are plenty of Irish Catholics there. They even have the only stop light in the country that's up side down and stays that way by law."

"Why's that?"

Butch grinned and said, "The Catholics refused to obey anything that had the Orange above the Green.

"Well, enough of that. Mr. and Mrs. O'Malley, the last thing you can possibly want to do is cook tonight. There are several fair restaurants around here and, if you want to begin your stay here by insulting my wife and I, you may eat at one of these. On the other hand, we expected you and Sophie's made up a bunch of burgers for the grill." Butch found his ashtray and butted out the cigarette. "I even got some Guinesses and some Molson's ale. We know how you micks like your 'aff an aff'."

"Do you like stout?" Kevin asked.

"I think it tastes like horse piss," Butch replied.

Kevin laughed. "I agree, and from an unhealthy horse at that. We need the ale to get it down." He looked at his wife and back to his landlord. "We'd be honored to accept your offer, sir."

"Good! Just one thing, O'Malley. I ain't 'sir'. I was an enlisted man in the service and proud of it. 'Sir' is a title for a man of letters such as yourself; not for us workin' people."   He went to the top of the stairs. "See you out back in half an hour or so."

"Yes, sir," Kevin said and watched his landlord disappear from the landing, waving a threatening index finger.

"The man's a fine brute," Patty said as soon as the door was closed. "What can we bring them for supper?"

"Well, I think all that's expected of us is clean clothes on clean bodies," he said to Sara who hopped down from her perch and ran into her room. "I bought a bottle of Chianti just in case something like this happened. You and Missy hurry up, and I'll find the bottle and scrape off the price tag."

"We could afford wine?" Patty asked.

Kevin shook his head. "We should appear lace curtain even if we're not, don't you think."

They arrived on time to find Butch wearing a chef's apron and busying himself with the charcoals in the grill. The back yard was huge; larger than any they'd seen in Manhattan and would have raised a fine crop thought Kevin who was still not used to his new homeland. Both the neighbors' yards were hidden behind high wooden stockade fences. The back of the yard was closed by a low white picket fence that he feared rather invited children to climb. In the fading twilight he asked his landlord what lay beyond.

"Vale," Butch replied. "Vale cemetery. Runs from here clear to Nott Terrace down where your missus will be going to school. Splits the city here right in two." Kevin thought he could see light glinting off one or two monuments. "Kids love the place," Butch went on. "They go in there and play and the cops leave 'em alone so long as they behave themselves. Had some trouble years back with jerks knocking head stones down but that's long over. Some folks, like my last tenants, are bothered by the place being so near. Most find it peaceful."

"And the children simply go and play among the graves?" Patty asked.

"Y'know, Mrs. O'Malley, when you say it like that it sounds funny. It ain't,"  Butch said in a completely new tone of voice. "When I was a boy I went to Brandywine school just across the street there and we used to play there all the time. I know this sounds kinda silly, but I think the dead don't mind hearin' the running feet of children or listening to them as they play. And here's the funny part; I think they even protect them. Near as I know, with all that rock and stone sticking up, no kid's ever had a serious injury in there. I worked with stone all my adult life and the more I do the more incredible it is to me."

At this point a pretty dark haired woman appeared on theporch dressed in faded jeans and a tee shirt that proclaimed 'Shit Happens'. She was carrying a platter with five of the most beautiful steaks Kevin had ever seen. "Burgers, Eddie?" Kevin asked.

"Burgers; steaks? What do I know?"

"Thick headed Calabraise," the woman said as she put down the platter. She turned to Patty and held out her hand saying, "I'm Sophie, the Sicilian or bitter half."  The O'Malley's introduced themselves. "I see why Butcher likes you," she said eyeing the three of them. "You're a real looker; your daughter's neat as a pin, and if you leave me alone with your husband...."   Sophie was a five foot pixy with smile lines that betrayed her omnipresent sense of mischief. She turned to her her husband. "How'd you hook such respectable folks into living over us?"

"I told them you did windows," he quipped. "So I lied. She don't do her hair all the time," he winked at Kevin and Pat. Sophie socked his arm. "Nasty as a snake. If you sleep with her you gotta keep her."   He got belted again.

"You must be Missy?" Sophie said to Sara. "Can I call you that?" The girl nodded shyly. "Good, Missy. C'mon. I got some other things to bring out." "I'll help," Patty offered.

"Not on your life," Sophie said over her shoulder as she led Missy to the porch. "My place is a mess. Clean enough for kids maybe but not even my mom would be allowed in like it is."

Patty squeezed Kevin's hand and grinned. "Butch, your wife's a very pretty lady," said Kevin.

"She is that,"  Butch agreed. "She is also a motor mouth and a serious pain in the ass but, I love her. Been together twenty six years now, and it's been the best. We wanted kids, but it just never happened. Now, we're just happy."

"Did you ever find out why you couldn't?" Patty asked.

"Naw. We were going to, and then we figured it was the way things were supposed to be. We also figured that the doctors would say it was me, or it was her, and neither of us wanted that kinda thing over our heads."

Late that night, just before they fell asleep on the couch, Patty snuggled very close to Kevin and hugged him. "They are wonderful," she whispered. "Sophie's a delightful nut. Eddie's the most gentle bear I've ever met, and Missy adores them both already."

"I like them too," Kevin answered. "I just wish they weren't quite so explicit in their speech patterns."

"Missy will survive it. To tell the truth, I wish I could be as unafraid as they are about everything."

"Hmm. They are that."   Minutes later they were sound asleep. 

Their sleep was shattered by a loud clanging racket that came from the kitchen. Kevin bolted from the bed with Patty on his heels, both dressed only in underwear. Standing at the top of the back stairs with Missy was Sophie holding a large steel pot in one hand and banging it with a wooden spoon. "Told you it would work," she said to the girl. "Breakfast is served in five minutes," she announced. "I only do this the first morning," she confided and then gave both of them the once over. "Hope I didn't interrupt anything." She took Sara's hand and ordered, "Let's go, kid. We can have the good stuff half gone before anyone else gets a shot at it." 

Kevin looked at his watch and saw that it was six o'clock.  

"Do you suppose all mornings start like this?"  Patty asked. 

"Probably,"  Kevin sighed as he went back into the bedroom and flopped on the bed.

All five of them sat in light robes about the table. Breakfast was two heaping platters, one of home made spicy Italian sausages and the other buttermilk pancakes. There was thick maple syrup, home made butter and a pot of delightfully heavy coffee that was very like espresso, and real cream. All this was served in the cool morning air on the patio which was shadowed by the house from the already threatening sun.

Kevin looked across the picket fence and saw clearly the rows of low flat headstones lying at some distance behind the place. "You can use the gate there," Butch offered and pointed to the corner of the fence. Kevin easily saw the entrance way that had been invisible the night before. "The cops will probably stop you. Tell 'em you're new here and that you're my tenant. They all know me."

"They should," Sophie put in. "You built most of their houses, damn near at cost, ya jerk." 

"I like cops," he replied. "If I'd been one inch taller..."

"You'd be a cop," she finished. "Two inches is more like it and you'd be a lousy cop. He acts tough," she said to Patty, "but he's got no cannolis. He'd let any creep with a sob story off."

Butch caught Patty's questioning look. "Cannolis! Balls, nuts, testicles!" he laughed. "She thinks because she can walk all over me, everybody can."

"They can and you know it, Butcher."   She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. "And that's just the way I want it. Only make some money off these bums!" she exhorted.

Butch pointed to the cemetery. "There they go."   Kevin looked to see a distant shiny reflection gliding beyond a line of trees. "That's the bum patrol. There's benches and flat stones in there where they can sleep. The cops let 'em until just after sunup. Then they kick 'em out."   Sure enough; a few minutes later a handful of men in dirty ragged clothes walked wearily from the grave yard to several exits, real and improvised. One of them passed very close to the picket fence.  He looked in eyeing the food, and Butch held up his hand to stop the man. The man waited as Butch scraped the last sausages into a paper napkin and brought them to the fence. They couldn't hear any of the conversation that lasted for several minutes and was ended by a shaking of hands.

"Half the guys who work for Butch got interviewed there," Sophie said. "The other half are relatives," she added. "It's an old Italian custom."

"I believe you're right on that one," Kevin answered. "I'd rather starve than work for any of my kin."

Butch sat down at the table and drank the last of his coffee. "He was in Saigon during the Tet thing. Good guy. Corps of engineers. Says he knows how to run a loader."

"You already got three guys to run two loaders, Butcher," Sophie said glumly. "See. Tough guy here," she said to the O'Malleys.

At noon Kevin and Patty took a break from unpacking. Patty drove off in search of a market with Missy, and Kevin decided to go for a walk. He hesitated at the gate without really knowing why. Girding loins, he told himself and entered the cemetery. Walking generally west he found himself studying the maze of stones, crypts and mausoleums. He realized he was passing from one ethnic area to another as names like Kowzloski and Cyznik were replaced by Walker and Smith and later still by Puglio or Piccola. The graves near his place had been recent, simple and plain by comparison to those deeper in the grounds, and his landlord had been right; children played in small groups everywhere. After twenty minutes he set out to return home and lost his bearings slightly. He came out near the fire station where half a dozen youths were playing a baseball game he'd never heard of called 'hit the bat'. One of them, the batter, would toss the ball and hit it with the bat to the others then lay the bat cross wise on the ground. Whoever caught the ball had to stand where the catch was made and try to hit the bat with the ball. Kevin was impressed with how often this happened and watched for several minutes before returning home by sidewalk. It seemed safe enough, he told himself. As he walked he saw the playground behind the school Butch had attended and realized that the traffic would be a hazard for Missy. For now she could play in the yard and maybe the cemetery, but only near the house.