Slices of Life: Italian-American Stories

It was February and the people in the town were hibernating in their homes. I heard a coyote from the green mountains and I could see the pine trees waving back and forth. The windows rattled and I thought I heard someone tapping on the window. “Maybe it’s one of the zangerie or gypsies that Nonna used to talk about,” I thought to myself. It was just the wind. I finished my Asiago cheese and pasta fagioli when I heard a neighbor yell, “Ecco le neve!” I knew that no one was going out to the piazza that night. Since I had espresso that day, and the winds were howling, I had a burst of energy. I decided to poke around Nonna’s bedroom and explore her room closely. “Tonight I will gain a better understanding of my Italian family,” I thought to myself. As I looked at the dresser, I noticed the statue of St. Antonio. He was wearing a brown robe and standing beside black rosary beads which were laying on the dresser. There were photos of myself and my family in the United States beside the statue. I remember my Nonna and Mama praying to St. Antonio each time they lost something believing that St. Antonio would help them to recover the lost item. I noticed the black and white painting of Santa Maria Maggiore and the rusty nail that it hung on embedded in the wall. My Nonna wanted to be sure the picture would not be moved. There were gray rosary beads hanging on top of the frame. I remember my Nonna saying that she felt protected by the painting. I felt something tickle my fingers while I looked in the night-stand. I found blue, red, silver and white rosary beads in the drawer, my Nonna saved all of them. I remember Nonna sitting at the kitchen table while saying the rosary if someone was sick or had male fortuna (bad luck). The drawer also held Nonna’s prayer book. I noticed its leather cover written in both Latin and Italian. She left a bookmark with a crucifix on “La Praghiera del Signore”. Nonna used to say this prayer in Italy and when she visited the states. Beneath the prayer book there was a small framed picture of Nonna, Nonno and a man named Biancolino standing in front of a trailer on the soccer field. They stayed in the trailer until it was safe for them to return to their home after an earthquake had affected San Donato Val di Comino. My Nonna told us that she believed her house had minimal damage because she prayed often. There was a small photo of the Madonna placed in the corner of the frame. There was also a photo of St. Donato, which is the patron saint of the town we are from in Italy. Every August, my Nonna walked in the procession behind the statue that was carried through the town. During my visits to San Donato, I did the same thing! I decided to leave the religious items just as Nonna had left them. I came upon one dry red rose with a red ribbon. The gold inscription said, "Buon Compleano" and had the date of my grandmother's birthday. My grandfather was a simple man so I know that the one red rose was from my grandfather to my grandmother. There were soccer photos and emblems on the wall which reminded me of my family's love for soccer. Nonna's house is right up the street from a soccer field and we have a passion for watching soccer games. The black and white photo of my uncle in his soccer cleats have been in Nonna's house for years. Suddenly, I realized the importance of carrying on religious and Italian traditions as an Italian-American. It didn’t seem right to move any of the items as they belong just the way Nonna had left them.