Linda Schifino's beloved childhood neighborhood is gone-apartment buildings, familiar stores, and family homes demolished, the church that nurtured three generations of her family now a parking lot, family members and neighbors long dead. The passage of time has become her antagonist. Faced with heartbreaking loss, Schifino hoards treasured family memories, stories, and customs. When her son asks if it's okay to bring a ham to Christmas Eve Feast of the Seven Fishes, Schifino fears the beginning of the dismantling of her family traditions. explores timeless human themes of family, place, and loss. The story begins in an Italian American enclave of Pittsburgh in the 1950s, a loving and close-knit community that consisted of small clapboard houses and apartments over grocery stores and butcher shops, where generations of families celebrated saint's day festivals with brass bands and homemade sausage sandwiches. Chapters introduce characters such as Mim, a beloved aunt whose botched abortion left her childless; Baw Baw, the author's great-grandfather who drank too much and sang too loud; and the guys who sat on the stoop and provided six-year-old Linda with a numbers running gig that taught her the distinction between them and her adoring, yet overprotective father. Poignant and open-hearted, is an absorbing family story that invites the reader along as the author sifts through fragile memories like an archeologist in an effort to preserve a family legacy. An affable and sincere narrator, Schifino's memoir is at once heartbreaking, humorous, and engaging.