THE SPAGHETTI SET
Family Served Italian Style
by
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Patricia, Jake, Juliet, Iggy, and Anna gathered around another table with Father Romano. While Juliet listened to an argument between Patricia and Jake over the color of the baby’s room, Iggy leaned forward and motioned toward the rotund cleric sitting on the other side of Anna. From behind a hand, he addressed him in English, “Father Romano, some guy told me you were kicked out of Our Lady of Good Shepherd for messin’ with the choir director.” When the priest’s face turned crimson, Iggy let out a hardy laugh. “So it’s true. Don’t worry, Father. I won’t tell a soul. Cross my fuckin’ heart.” Realizing no one else at the table had paid Iggy any mind, Father Romano let out a sigh of relief.
Iggy poured a glass of wine for the priest. “You know, Father Romano, Anna and I got hitched in Italy.” Upon hearing her name, Anna kicked Iggy under the table so he switched to Italian, “We signed papers in front of the mayor of Naples. Can you believe that some holy roller, my sister Patricia over there, keeps insistin’ we’re not really married in the eyes of the Church.”
Father Romano picked up his glass and spoke over its rim. “That is the official view of the Roman Catholic Church.” He took a sip of the wine.
“Son of bitch!” Iggy slapped the table and laugh out loud. “So, according to the damn Pope, my kids will be bastards?”
When Father Romano choked on the liquid, Anna patted his back until he was able to catch his breath. Then, with a hint of excitement in her voice, she whispered into his ear, “Are you telling me I’m free to marry someone else?”
The priest tilted forward and eyed Iggy with an indignant twitch, then retreated behind Anna and murmured under his breath, “Well, not exactly.” He again swallowed more wine.
Disappointment spread over Anna’s face. “What do you mean?”
“Simply put, a confession and a Catholic ceremony can rectify the matter. Without the vows of Holy Matrimony, your souls are marred by carnal sin.” Worried that Iggy would retaliate with more gossip if he overheard, he drank the rest of his wine.
“Humph.” Anna downed a full glass of wine then, gesturing toward Iggy, mumbled, “The dreadful truth, Padre, is that I wish I never laid eyes on him.”
Oblivious to the sentiments conveyed in the hushed dialogue between his wife and the priest, Iggy tugged Anna’s arm. “Hey, give the guy a damn break. He’s off duty tonight, no guilty secrets till he stuffs his ass back in the confessional. Here, Father, let me pour you some more wine.” He leaned over and started to fill the priest’s glass, but stopped short and looked Father Romano directly in the eye. “Hey, one thing you gotta promise me first…”
At Iggy’s pause, the priest asked nervously, “What’s that?”
“That you won’t pull none of that holy abracadabra shit on my Chianti here and change it, for Christ sakes. I might act like a goddam cannibal, but I sure don’t drink blood.” When the priest’s mouth dropped at the insolent blasphemy, Iggy roared with delight.
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About the Book
Feel like a fly on the wall in the homes of two Italian-American families. This light fiction reveals characters whose irreverent, ludicrous and intimate behavior affirms the old adage: ”Family is family, like it or not!”
A brother and sister depart war-torn Italy in 1947 and cross the Atlantic to reunite with their father in Benton, New Jersey. As the seasick brunette dreams of eligible Americani, the young fellow dreads the prospect of dealing with his cantankerous Papà. Meanwhile, in Benton, another Italian-American family bickers over mundane issues with burlesque animation. Partnerships test the patience of the brothers and domesticity puts the women at odds.
These economically disparate clans, the Camaras and the Matteos, cross paths after Teresa Camara literally bumps into love-starved Mack Matteo. Instead of letting their mutual attraction evolve slowly into something more, her scheming father takes matters into his own hands, placing their relationship on course for possible disaster.
While the households of the Camaras and the Matteos are fraught with normal sibling rivalry and shared secrets, a few obnoxious family members engage in outlandish behavior, causing total mayhem and discord. One unscrupulous brother’s involvement in an embezzlement scheme leads to murder.
How the two families cope with the absurdities of love, intimacy and life unfolds in a true comedy of errors complete with misunderstandings, laughter, frustration and tears.
About the Author
The author grew up in an Italian neighborhood in Trenton, NJ called "The Burg." To the background music of her mother’s native tongue, she danced around old world customs and traditions practiced by the local immigrants who lived there. Her favorite annual tradition, the “Feast of the Lights,” a weeklong festival in honor of the Madonna di Cassandrino, was celebrated in the streets just outside her doorstep.
Like Ellis Island, her parents' home welcomed many immigrant relatives. Reminiscing about the lively family gatherings held there, she conceived the plot for this fiction. Now residing in Prescott, AZ, she still holds true to her roots.
With the Americanization of her first name and then her marriage to Carl Boyd, Jr., Rosa Maria Maisto became Rose Marie Boyd. However, a few old friends and many relatives still prefer to use her Italian name.
A graduate of Cathedral High School and Trenton State College, the author is the proud mother of her successful children Jessica and Justin. She relocated to Prescott, Arizona, with her husband in 2001. As she basked under the Southwest sun, the writing bug decided to bite her. Since then, she's been expressing her creativity through poetry and novels.
An avid reader, she enjoys critiquing a bestseller or an old classic with the women in her monthly book group. The author also loves a competitive game of tennis and volunteers for both an adult literacy program, Big Brothers/Big Sisters and a women’s domestic violence shelter.
You can preview the first two chapters at: http://thespaghettiset.blogspot.com/ and follow her poetry blog at http://rosemboyd.blogspot.com/.