Why Italy?

My grandmother, Nana, used to serve spaghetti in a big yellow bowl. We were always at Nana's house for dinner on the weekends and visiting throughout the week. When you walked into her house the first thing you saw was a weathered painting of Leonardo DaVinci's "The Last Supper". There was a cross and a Madonna in every room. She used to yell at me in an Italian dialect called Cariotta, "Sta gita!" which I interpreted as "Sit down, shut up and stop running around my house!" She used to give wet kisses and laugh when I wiped them off immediately afterward. She spoke very little English, but lived in the United States for 65 years. When I began studying Italian in college and would try to speak with her, she told me I spoke the wrong Italian.

My grandfather, Nanu, died when I was eight and I remember that he was always smiling. He loved to garden and his first job in America was as a waiter. He was eventually able to purchase a delicatesson/market one day and it became the hub of family life. He created a thriving life in America out of nothing and passed that life onto all of us.

Nana lived forever it seemed and was the matriarch of our family. When she died, the whole family sat in her house with her to say good-bye. It was one of the saddest days of my life and yet I am so happy that we were all there together, just like always. She and my Nanu had 5 children, 14 grandchildren, and today 14 great-grandchildren with many more on the way.

With the passing of my grandparents, no-one really speaks Italian anymore. My mom, aunt and uncles can still speak the dialect, but to whom? We have a full life in America now - families, jobs, homes, vacation homes, piano lessons and little league to attend. But what about on the other side of the Atlantic? What about all the relatives we have in Italy? Who are they?

When I think about my grandparents leaving for "the new world" I recall the story of my great-grandmother standing in front of her daughter on a dirt road telling her, "If you go, I will never see you again." And she didn't. My great-grandmother died before Nana made it back to Italy. It's amazing really, that this young mother of 3 sons followed her husband to America. She left everything behind, everyone she knew.

I am spoiled today. I can talk to anyone I want in every possible mode of communication I want. When I get lonely, I pick up the phone or open the computer. And I can always get on a plane and fly home. I would never be able to do what my grandmother did. I am certain of this. I would never be able to stand in front of my mom and say good-bye forever. I don't have that kind of courage.

Nana and Nanu left behind parents, brothers, sisters and cousins. And now that they are gone, now that we all have lives in America, Italy is very. very far away. We all feel Italian, but we aren't really; we are American now, at least I am.

So part of my journey back to Italy is to explore these Italian roots (the other part being to imrove my horrible Italian). To connect to all our Italian realtives and to re-establish what Nana and Nanu left behind. Because even though they left for a better economic life in America, I wonder, was it really "better" of just different? Who are all the people they left behind and what would it have been like if I were born in Italy?

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I hope you enjoyed this little introduction to my blog. I promise not all of them will be this deep; rather, most of them will be light-hearted. Ciao! Ciao!