My grandma Molly “Cookie” Keating would cross the Pittston Bypass and walk down William Street from Cork Lane to meet me after I suffered a rough day in fourth grade at St. John the Evangelist Grade School. She had silvery white hair mostly worn in a pristine bun. She wore bright floral dresses and ornate hats like an Irish Carmen Miranda. She led me downtown to a retail boutique— the ABC Shoppe on Main Street. Its tall, wide storefront windows trapped omnipresent vapor trail

Until my oldest brother Mike moved out of our half of a double-block home, we had three bedrooms for four kids. Briefly, I squeezed in a...