Jim
ps I DID like the Hillary joke....
Best E-mails of the Week 8/25/02
Hi Pete
How are things going??? We are fine.. when do the kids go to college????
Jim
ps I DID like the Hillary joke....
Niece Katie is OK after a car accident on a suddenly rain slicked curvy hill that did result in a flip over. She remained calm, and got out OK. I credit my brother-in-law Jack with the good sense to repair her broken driver's seat with an aluminum bracket two weeks ago, so that it kept her safe through the accident. Procrastination has no place in the world of safety. I hope young readers learn from Jack's example. Don't put off important tasks!
Speaking of my brother and sister, here's a pertinent story:
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NO ONE COVERED THE FIG TREE |
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I am
sure for most second generation Italian American children who grew up in the
40's and 50's there was a definite distinction between us and them. We
were Italians, everybody else, the Irish the Germans, the Poles, they were
Americans. I was well into adulthood before I realized I was an American. I had been born American and lived here all my life but Americans were people who ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on mushy white bread. I had no animosity towards them, it's just I thought ours was the better way with our bread man, egg man, javelle man, vegetable man, the Chicken man, to name a few of the peddlers who came to our neighborhoods. We Knew them, they knew us. Americans went to the A&P. It amazed me that some friends and classmates on Thanksgiving and Christmas ate only turkey with stuffing, potatoes, and cranberry sauce. We had turkey, but after antipasto, soup, lasagna, meatballs and salad. In case someone came in who didn't like turkey we also had a roast of beef. Soon after we were eating fruits, nuts, pastries and homemade cookies sprinkled with little colored things. This is where you learned to eat a seven course meal between noon and four PM, how to handle hot chestnuts and put peaches in wine. Italians live a romance with food. Sundays we would wake up to the smell of garlic and onions frying in olive oil. We always had macaroni and sauce. Sunday would not be Sunday without going to mass. Of course you couldn't eat before mass because you had to fast before receiving communion. We knew when we got home we'd find meatballs frying and nothing tasted better than newly cooked meatballs with crisp bread dipped into a pot of hot sauce. Another difference between them and us was we had gardens. Not just with flowers, but tomatoes, peppers, basil, lettuce and "cucuzza". Everybody had a grapevine and fig tree. In the fall we drank homemade wine arguing over who made the best. Those gardens thrived because we had something our American friends didn't seem to have. We had grandparents. It's not that they didn't have grandparents. It's just that they didn't live in the same house or street. We ate with our grandparents and God forbid we didn't visit them 5 times a week. I can still remember my grandmother telling us how she came to America when she was young, on the "boat". I'll never forget the holidays when the relatives would gather at My grandparents house, the women in the kitchen, the men in the living room, the kids everywhere. I must have a hundred cousins. My grandfather sat in the middle of it all smoking his DiNobili cigar so proud of his family and how well they had done. When my grandparents died, things began to change. Family gatherings were fewer and something seemed to be missing. Although we did get together usually at my mothers house I always had the feeling NaNa and PaPa were there. It's understandable things change. We all have families of our own and grandchildren of our own. Today we visit once in a while or meet at wakes or weddings. Other things have also changed. The old house my grandparents bought is now covered with aluminum siding. A green lawn covers the soil that grew the tomatoes. THERE WAS NO ONE TO COVER THE FIG TREE SO IT DIED. The holidays have changed. We still make family "rounds" but somehow things have become more formal. The great quantities of food we consumed, without any ill effects, is not good for us anymore. Too much starch, too much cholesterol, too may calories in the pastries. The difference between "us" and "them" isn't so easily defined anymore and I guess that's good. My grandparents were Italian/Italians, my parents were Italian/Americans. I'm an American and proud of it, just as my grandparents would want me to be. We are all Americans now....the Irish, Germans, Poles, all US citizens. But somehow I still feel a little bit Italian. Call it culture... call it roots... I'm not sure what it is. All I do know is that my children, my nieces and nephews, have been cheated out of a wonderful piece of our heritage.. they never knew my grandparents... Author unknown
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This week I received E-mail from Japan, Berlin and this one from Rome.
But it is no problemo. See the solution at the end.
Forwarded Message:
Cara zia, noi stiamo bene...
qui in Italia ci sono stati problemi solo al
nord...ma l'alluvione ha fatto danni maggiori in europa centrale(rep. ceca,
Germania, Austria).
Sono molto preoccupata per i miei amici di
Praga... di alcuni non ho ricevuto notizie... speriamo bene...
un caro saluto a tutti voi
Cara Anna Maria ed Emilia,
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Here are the translations to Auntie Rose's letters: For our Polish friends, I sent an email translated for free by using this site: http://www.transsoft.seo.pl/TermsHelp.html
Note that for important translations, you can use
their service where they have 85 translators standing by to e-mail you their
interpreted translation as opposed to the dictionary translation. - and all for
free! |
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Pete
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