JM: One of the things that struck me about the photograph was the hat she was wearing. Did you recognize that hat?

JP: No, but she had a lot of hats, and they were all different styles. She was good for wearing a hat.

JM: She probably wore the hat to the job interview.

JP: Well, she was very adamant about looking good. And that's what I take that hat meaning, that she wanted to make an impression on whoever she was going to see.

JM: The picture is quite stunning. Your mother is very beautiful in this picture.

JP: Yes, she was.

JM: And very Irish-looking.

JP: Her mother was really Irish-looking, too.

JM: Do you think that your mother was regarded as beautiful by other people?

JP: She never mentioned that. All she used to say was that she had big teeth when she smiled and she hated it. She said it spoiled her face.

JM: I've got the 1910 census information here, and your mother is listed as eight years old.

JP: That would be correct.

JM: Her father and mother are listed as Michael and Johanna.

JP: That's right, too.

JM: And the children listed are Francis, Margaret, Evelyn, Edward, Angela, Joseph, and Mary.

JP: There were more children, a total of 10. Gertie, the oldest one, died young. And there was Anna, then also Arthur, who died right after he was born.

JM: Did your mother ever talk much about what her life was like when she was a child?

JP: We never discussed that.

JM: Did you ever talk to your grandparents about that?

JP: No. My grandfather passed away before I was born. I remember going down to my grandmother's a lot, but she wasn't a talkative person. She never told us stories. My mother would tell us stories sometimes, but I guess we didn't pay attention to her then. When you're older, you realize that you should have paid attention.

JM: Where was the house that you grew up in?

JP: At 114 Walker Street, in Fall River, where I'm living right now.

JM: Your mother was Irish. Was it an Irish neighborhood?

JP: Yes, with a big Catholic parish, Immaculate Conception. She was born and brought up in that parish. She got married in that parish. And, of course, when she passed away, she was buried in that parish, and all the children were baptized and had first communion and everything there.

JM: Your father was named Alfred Simonetti. I assume he was Italian. Wasn't that a bit unusual for your mother to have married an Italian?

JP: Her parents didn't want it. When he first met her, he knew her parents didn't want her to have anything to do with Italians, so he called himself Harold Green.

JM: I imagine he probably didn't look exactly like a Harold Green.

JP: No, he didn't. He had the dark hair, but he had blue eyes. They got married in 1922. She was 20 and he was 22. He worked for National Biscuit for a few years and then went to work for the Eastern Massachusetts Street Railway, which operated the buses here in the city. He was a mechanic and fixed the buses. Then they laid him off, so he worked for my uncle for awhile in a package store. And then he was going to be laid off, but he was 65, so he quit. The last job my mother had was the one for Slater Box, but I don't remember when she retired. She passed away in 1973, about six months after their 50th wedding anniversary. My father passed away two-and-a-half years later.

JM: Had she been ill for awhile?

JP: Yes. She had found out in January of 1972 that she had cancer. She wanted to celebrate her 50^th wedding anniversary, so we gave her something special. My brothers and I gave my parents money so they could travel to Europe. We sent them to Ireland, England, Italy, all those places. They went to 10 countries. They were gone three weeks, but when they came back, she wasn't well at all. And then in the following year they operated on her, and then told her she had six months, and that's how long she lived.

JM: What was your mother like?

JP: She was easy going, but she was stern in her own ways. She never promised us children things that we asked for. She'd say, ‘I'll see.' And then, when the time came she'd say, ‘Sorry, I can't do it.' That way, she never had to go back on a promise. And she used to say to us: ‘Don't lie to me. I don't lie to you, so don't lie to me.' My father was a very quiet man. He would sit in the background, and if you asked him a question, he'd answer it. But my mother was talkative, and she had a lot of friends. When she passed away, the undertaker was surprised how many people came. It was standing room only.

JM: What did your mother like to do for recreation?

JP: She loved to sew. She made suits and stuff for my brothers. She and my father went for long rides, and when my father was working sometimes and she was home, I would take her out for rides. She loved going different places, not knowing where she was going. She used to have the family in every weekend, and they would play cards. She was more wrapped up in the house, though. Sometimes she would be working six days a week, and Sunday would be the only day she could relax. I'm just like her. I don't sit down; I keep going and going.

JM: Tell me about your brothers and sisters.

JP: My brother Joe was born in 1927, Edward was born about 1924, and Russell in 1923. Edward was a civil engineer with the Gilbane Company in Providence. He went to George Washington University. He got a scholarship. Then he did a year at MIT, but he never finished, because he didn't write his last thesis. Joe was a construction superintendant for building tall buildings in Boston and Connecticut. Russell went right into the service after high school. During the war (WWII), he was killed on a submarine. Edward died in 1984, and Joe died in 2002.

The submarine that Russell was on was the Wahoo, and it was reported missing in the La Perouse Strait, which is in Russian waters. (It was determined recently that it was destroyed by a Japanese air attack). The government notified us that the ship was missing. But my mother said, ‘They're gonna find him.' From that time on, she was always saying, ‘Someday, they're gonna find Russell.' She passed away not knowing that they would finally find the sub.

It was in 2006. My niece sent me an e-mail stating that the Wahoo had been found. The Russians sent their divers down, and they found the sub, and it was standing straight up. My nephew saw the pictures on the website they put up. They said on the website that they wanted people in the families of the sailors to write letters and send pictures. They found 70 families out of the 78. Then they put everything in a time capsule and dropped it down by the side of the sub. I thought to myself: ‘If only my mother was still alive. It's what she always wanted.'