Personal Narrative: Moving Away From Home

Thousands of immigrants heard that Detroit was the new paradise and they were all trying to find homes and jobs in Detroit. There were not enough homes for the immigrants; so, many people had to share crowded homes with other families. Many Detroiters, including my dad, thought that the Hastings Street area was becoming too overcrowded and dangerous.
"Dad," my father would say, "you and mom have to get out of this area. The Purple Gang members are making this place too dangerous. Just yesterday, two more men were found dead. They think they were rival bootleggers. You know how bad it is. You hear what your customers are saying. Why don 't you move north, to a nice white area, where it 's safe?"
"Son, your mother and I will never move from here. If you want to move, move. I 'm here 'til you put me in the Lafayette Street Cemetery," Grandpa always said.
Neither Grandpa or

I spent most of my time in our apartment, the alley in the back yard, and playing downstairs in the Deli. Grandma and Mom took turns watching me. They both worked the Deli alongside Grandpa. I loved the smells and sights of the Deli. The long counter with the different kinds of cheese and meats fascinated me. I remember that I was able to stand and look directly into the glass cases. I had no idea what the names meant, but I loved cheese and would ask to try every kind. On the shelves along the walls, there were rows of canned and dry goods and all kinds of bread from the bakers at the Eastern Market. Grandpa had barrels of Kosher pickles, bulk nuts and sometimes oysters covered with ice, in the center of the store. Smoked sausages of all kinds hung down from the ceiling with strings of garlic and dried peppers. I loved the counter where Grandpa kept the penny candy in large glass jars. If I was good and helped him pick up stuff that dropped on the floor, he would give me one piece of candy. That 's how I learned to work for Grandpa, but Dad kept telling me that I couldn 't work for candy all