Excerpt from Michael Sanchelli Memoirs – Depression Years My father never gave up on his singing, even when he was sick, he still gave it his best when he was in the mood.  Every Sunday night before he would come in and go to bed, he would go out to the middle of the big [...]

It was about at this period (around 1927) of my life that I would witness an old Italian way of making wine.  I walked in the front door of my house one evening and there were two Italians kneeling by my father who was seated on a chair, they were trimming his toe nails and [...]