Myself in the 1950s

As an altar-boy, aged 4

Growing up in the 1950s was truly a special time for me, and realizing that this was just a decade after the terrible years of World War II, I can only imagine how peaceful and re-creative it must have been for my parents and all those who suffered during the atrocities of the war. My parents had told me many times how much they suffered during the war, especially my father, but after getting married in 1948, they had two children within 2 years and four within 7 years. For the first 4 years of my infancy, we shared a house with an aunt, and moved into our new home in 1956, where my parents lived for the rest of their lives, and where my sister still lives, and where I stay whenever I visit Malta. 

 

I have a few photos of my childhood which I treasure and which show a serious side of me, meticulously dressed by my mother, and fond of soccer like every other boy growing up in Malta and all over Europe for that matter. The house where I was born in 1952 was 100 yards away from the local parish church, while the new house was 2 blocks away, a 3 minute walk, and so I was constantly around the church, starting to serve as an altar boy at the age of 4, my debut being during the procession of Corpus Christi. Then I served Mass with my bother Paul until I entered the Seminary in 1970. I have a great recollection of those years which was a much simpler life for us, enjoying the first years of my schooling, and living in a humble, yet loving and over-protective family.