The following are the first-prize winners of 1997 writing contests sponsored by the Italian American Cultural Foundation of Cleve­land, Ohio. This group purchases books by and about Italian Americans and donates them to high school and college libraries. Students are encouraged to read a book and respond with book reports or essays. For more information contact: Mr. Joseph Ven­tura; The Italian American Cultural Foundation; The Renaissance on Playhouse Square; 1350 Euclid Ave, Suite 1500; Euclid, OH 44115–1851; (216) 663–1337.

 

The 1997 Italian American Cultural Foundation Essay Contest Winners are:

College Winners:

Debbie Wilkinson from Lake Erie College, First Place Winner

Christopher Bertone from Lake Erie College, Second Place Winner

Josephine Lombardi from Ursuline College

 

High School Winners: Heather Godale from West Geauga High School

                                             Christine Cicirelli from Wickliffe High School

                                            Ricardo A. DiFranco from Mayfield High School

                                            Jennifer DeCarlo from Solon High School

                                           Marisa Pocci from Padua High School

 

 

Debbie Wilkinson

Lake Erie College, First Place Winner

 

 

Susan Caperna Lloyd’s

No Pictures in My Grave: A Spiritual Journey in Sicily

 

Imagination is a powerful tool. I often use it to picture what life would have been like in a prior decade or century. I envision my­self in monumental periods of history that I have been fascinated with over my studies of history. I ask myself what role I would play: a commoner living day to day or a woman on the breaking edge of the fight for equal rights. I realize that I can only put my­self in this picture because history has been documented, so that I may strengthen my understanding of these events. Someday, the recent past and the near future will be history to another genera­tion of persons my age. The actual embarkation onto a journey that takes you to another level of awareness seems to be just an arm’s length away in most cases. For Susan Caperna Lloyd this journey is in her grip. No Pictures in My Grave: A Spiritual Journey in Sicily details the experiences of Ms. Lloyd as she travels on her quest for feminism throughout Sicily.

With a strong understanding of women in American culture, Susan sets off to explore the role of women in her Italian heritage. An interest in female mythology and the sacred Easter celebration in Trapani carries this wife and mother across the region of Sicily on two separate documented voyages. On her first trip she is ac­companied by her husband, two children, and mother. She finds that this is more of a vacation for everyone. For her understand­ing, she must visit alone the next time. Two years later Susan de­cides to make the trip again, by herself. She plans her visit just be­fore Easter, which is about to begin. This way she can visit some of the historical and cultural shrines in Sicily before returning to Trapani for the procession.

When she arrives, she decides to contact some people whom she met on her previous journey. Carlo, Giuseppe, and Patrizia are all concerned about a woman traveling alone in Sicily. Susan later realizes that this is not a common or safe practice in Italy. While visiting Il Fonte Ciane, she is approached by a man offering her a ride on his motorcycle. He speeds angrily away when she de­clines. Later that evening, Susan is exhausted and looking for a place to stay. She is advanced upon by the same man, only this time she accepts the ride. He heads toward downtown where she will be able to get a hotel, but then veers onto another road and heads out into the country. Realizing this was a mistake, Susan starts screaming for him to slow down. When he does Susan takes her bag and jumps out of the car. Scared and upset, Susan must walk five miles back into town to find a hotel. This was one event that taught her a lesson she would never forget. Patrizia, worried about Susan, invites her to stay with her family. Intrigued by the unique opportunity to learn about the Italian household, she can not decline the offer. Even though this will limit Susan’s privacy, she is pleased the Amorosos would invite a foreigner into their close knit family. At some points, she must turn down offers of clothing, escorts, and travel plans to pursue her own desires. This brings hard feelings to the Amorosos, but they begin to under­stand that Susan is on a mission. This mission is led by the desire to see and explore archaeological sites related to the deities De­meter and Persephone.

Meeting with an old acquaintance proves to be profitable for Susan. Clara, a woman restaurateur, is also involved with study­ing the feminine figures in Sicilian history. Clara suggests several sites that may be of interest to Susan. While speaking with Clara, Susan brings up the Amoroso women’s invitation to walk with them in the Procession of Mysteries. Instead, Clara suggests that Susan walk with her as she carries the Ceto Salinai. This was where Susan wanted to be, with independent women, not the mourning ones dressed in black. This was a chance of a lifetime. Not only was Susan female, but she was a foreigner as well. She wondered if the spectators would view her position in the procession with a positive or negative attitude. This did not matter to her for she was experiencing something that not even many Sicilian women would be a part of. When leaving Clara’s restaurant, Susan as­sured her that she would be back just in time to walk in the pro­cession of the Madonna.

Three sites Susan planned to visit all proved to be exciting ad­ventures with plenty of things to see and people to meet. Il Fonte Ciane was a beautiful lake that she found. This was where Deme­ter and Persephone were supposed to have been seen picking flowers. The Black Madonna of Tindari was especially meaning­ful. The statue, having black skin, was surrounded by people praying to her. Susan finds out that this statue is not the real one and is accompanied by a man to see the real Black Madonna. Now on to San Biagio to see the bread ladies. This town is preparing for their Easter Celebration. The bread ladies make beautiful orna­ments with their bread. Susan is fascinated with this tradition and is allowed to take one for herself. She is ready to return to Trapani, where she awaits the excitement of walking in the procession.

Joining Clara, they wait for the procession to begin. She is very enthusiastic about partaking in this sacred event. As it begins, they join a group of men carrying the Ceto Salinai. Soon they will start their walk that will last all night and into the mid-morning. After a few hours, Susan decides to stop in at a coffee house. When she returns she finds that Clara has left. Not knowing whether Clara’s leave was intentional or unintentional, she pro­ceeded without her. Nino, a portatori, hears Susan as she implies she would like to help carry the Ceto Salinai. He says that he will make an attempt to allow her to carry it. At one of the rest stops her wish is granted. She is asked to help carry the Ceto Salinai all the way to the church. What an honor for a foreign woman to be invited to share in this episode. She is ecstatic and is glad that she made this quest for the realization of her own being.

With this journey, Susan has begun to understand several con­cepts. She has had a chance to experience some of Italian life and customs. Susan found peace as she explored the feminine figures that are historically important in her heritage. As the title of the book suggests, there were pictures put in a grave. Her father put pictures of his son and himself in his mother’s grave. Susan was very uncomfortable with this, because she did not understand the reasoning behind the gesture. Her father saw his mother as such a strong person and he hoped that as these pictures stayed with her, she would continually give him support. He did not place any pictures of females in the grave, because he thought they were like his mother: strong, supportive, and everlasting. Even though Si­cilian women may not play an outward role in the everyday life, they are as important to the society as the men. Susan hopes that she will not have to carry this burden of support along with her into her grave when she dies.

 

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Christopher Bertone

Lake Erie College, Second Place Winner

 

 

Ben Morreale’s A Few Virtuous Men (Li cornuti)

 

The irony flows like wine in A Few Virtuous Men (Li cornuti). From the title alone one can see a contradiction of terminology or at least a really bad translation. To call someone a cornuto in the Italian language is to call that person a cuckold, obviously a virtu­ous man is not usually considered a cornuto. Such confusion is the basis of author Ben Morreale’s book. One of the characters in the book explains this:

 

It is understandable that cornuto is the keystone to the Sicil­ian language, for in this cornuto land, where men have little else but a woman, to touch that is to leave them with noth­ing. Why it springs from a sexual act is all a matter of the grammar to the people. (12)

 

Morreale’s protagonist, a Sicilian priest named Father Buffa, develops in the story through much of the irony the title suggests. Father Buffa, who had his name changed by his townspeople to Father Juffa as an insult and as a nickname, wrote his ricordi, his memoirs, throughout the book. The story spans four decades in the small Sicilian town of Racalamora, literally translated as the village of the dead. Morreale colorfully describes Juffa’s observa­tions.

Juffa’s friends are considered the “honorable men of Raca­lamora” and Juffa uses their power to help him throughout the story. He is proud of his friendship with such people. One such friend Don Raphaelli Petrocelli or Don Tarralla was a shipping line boss who sent Sicilian men all around the world in search of jobs. Often he would take everything they had or repossess their abandoned property. Don Tarralla gives Juffa conversation, en­tertainment, volunteers for his church, and a widow who becomes Juffa’s not-so-secret mistress. Grazia Peppitone, a.k.a. La Pippi­tunna, was the mistress and caretaker of Juffa and his mother. She is always on the back burner throughout the novel getting only the attention of Juffa in their relationship. Another key character is Leonardo Panteleone, an educated man allowed to sit in with Juffa and his honorable friends at the noblemen’s club. Panteleone of­fers much intellectual opposition to Tarralla’s opinions.

The memoirs of Juffa take him from postwar Sicily to the US on a fund-raising mission to restore the church in Racalamora. His plan is to stop and see many former Sicilians who have become “rich” since leaving for l’america. He stays with his cousins in Brooklyn, NY and makes wonderful observations about life in the United States. This section is the best in the book. The dialogue between Juffa and his cousins is deep and insightful of the Italian immigrant experience.

Li Cornuti is really a story of a transformation. Juffa begins as a liberal priest who looks to America for the next pope. His dissent for tradition and leanings toward change are subtle but true. He complains about his cassock and is envious of American counter­parts who received the full benefits of the Second Vatican Council. He carries his sexual affair in his conscience throughout the story yet never mentions a desire to have celibacy removed from the priesthood. His perception of America altered these opinions. In the town of Racalamora, America is always spoken of in the future tense. Juffa recalls, “It was an envelope with money, a place where half the village had gone and sent back pictures” (99). Because of this change Juffa made in America, he returns to Sicily a different person. As he is returning to Racalamora he received news that Tarralla had been killed. Racalamora had also changed.

     Juffa’s biography has much to offer. It has political and moral debate with hints of nationalism, sex, violence, and humor. This story has something for everyone, it even gives lessons in Sicilian slang. The Epilogue leaves the reader with a new outlook on a book that demands a careful re-reading. Here is a hint: this book is also a murder mystery. I give a strong recommendation for this novel of Sicily, A Few Virtuous Men (Li cornuti).

 

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Josephine Lombardi

Ursuline College

 

Richard Gambino’s Blood of My Blood:

The Saga of a Connected People

 

Richard Gambino’s Blood Of My Blood reveals the essence of the Italian American. It tells the tale of a misunderstood people from the Mezzogiorno whose culture is centered around the family. Through an almost unbiased perspective, Gambino explains the southern Italians’ reasons for immigration and the unforgettable experiences they had to endure. He explores the idea of the family unit as an institution, the work ethics, the women’s role of “serietà,” and what it means to be Italian American today. This book has truly plucked my heart strings and has enabled me to question and confirm my identity as an Italian American.

The most compelling component of Italian culture that Gam­bino discussed is the family, the basic institution of Italy’s culture. This can best be seen in the southern Italian society. The southern part of Italy is called the Mezzogiorno, or literally “high noon,” which denotes warmth and a sense of climax. It is “a land that time forgot” (3) where an atmosphere like medieval chivalry is upheld. It is customary to sit and enjoy a meal with the family. Meals are sacred and so special that they need to be shared. The table is perceived as an altar. It was a celebration of life, God, love, and togetherness. The height of devotion the southern Italians have for the family is unbelievable. The devotion to “l’ordine della famiglia” has manifested itself as a defense against the hardships they had to face in Italy. “L’ordine” includes the hierarchy from the most important to the least important members of the family: compari [extended family], amici [friends], and stranieri [strangers]. Family or blood relations come first. Everything else is secondary. Loyalty to one’s own family is the true patriotism of the Italians. Mutual assistance based on kinship characterizes the strong fa­milism that continues to keep the Italian-American family func­tioning in the traditional way. It helps Italian Americans to sur­vive prejudice and hardships in the new land.

The late 1800s was a time of turmoil for the Italian immigrants who had emigrated to the United States. The only source of stabil­ity was the family. The contadini [farmers] of the Mezzogiorno viewed the family as the only unit that would outlast the con­stantly changing environment that surrounded them. Following l’ordine della famiglia, strangers or outsiders were avoided to pre­serve the well-being of the family. A famous Sicilian phrase re­flects this standard: “sangu du me sangu” [blood of my blood]. Gambino describes this mentality as “. . . a norm simple and de­manding, protective and isolating, humanistic and cynical” (4). These four words place a great responsibility on each family member. His/her life belongs to the family. The members of the family (especially the children) are protected from the host cul­ture, yet they are at a disadvantage because they are separated from the outside world. As a second-generation Italian American, I sometimes find my family values in conflict with the outside world. These four humanistically poetic words, “blood of my blood,” send me a message of connectedness. However, they also separate those who do not belong. No other physical and emo­tional bond could possibly be stronger than the life-giving bond of blood. The word “blood” gives the connotations of richness and nutrients. The family members share the same substance. If, for example, a son betrays his father, he is refuting his own substance, and therefore he denies his own being. One’s life belongs to the family because the family is what gives life. Family closeness, family loyalty, and family bonds are essential to the immigrants’ survival in an alien land.

There were many reasons why the southern Italians left Italy. The constant invasions throughout the centuries and the feudal­ism system made everyday a struggle for the peasants. The cor­rupt Bourbons ruled the Mezzogiorno and imposed heavy taxes on grain and on other goods that were the livelihood of the con­tadini. The acts of these cruel leaders sparked a number of insur­rections that led to the full movement of the Risorgimento of the later half of the nineteenth century. The revolution brought fur­ther disorganization to Italy and worsened the plight of the con­tadini, but it could not shake the strong foundations of the family. L’ordine della famiglia became stronger. The peasantry kept out the new to preserve the old. As a result, the southern Italians brought la via vecchia with them to America during the mass migrations of the late 1800s and early 1900s.

When they left their own familiar shores, the contadini thought that they would be freed from unemployment, famine, cholera, and natural disasters that had sparked the mass immigration of southern Italians to America. Gambino states: “. . . my school­books told me that Europeans immigrated . . . seeking democracy, religious tolerance, etc. But among Southern Italians, the motive was more vital—‘pane e lavoro’ [bread and work]” (78). Bread is the sustenance of life. Even today, it is the one basic nourishment that all Italians have on their table. I can certainly identify with this concept. I am Italian and Catholic. Jesus broke bread and shared it with his disciples. For the Italian, I believe it carries both physical and spiritual nourishment. Once more, the table can be seen as an altar for worship of the family modeled after the Holy Family. As I have seen from my own experience, the “Holy Fam­ily” concept has given power to the Italian family.

Gambino, too, credits the Italians’ success in the assimilation process on the strength of the family unit. He quoted a 1970 United States Bureau of the Census that surveyed white ethnic groups. It found that the family income for the Italians was higher than the national average and higher than that of the English Americans who arrived earlier, who were better educated, and who were better paid. These facts can be attributed to the Italian strong family ties and unique work ethic. A dialect saying states, “Poveri si, ma perché lagnusi?” (80; Poor yes, but why lazy?). This proverb is vital if one is to understand the Italians’ character. As a second-generation Italian-American daughter, I was taught to take advantage of every opportunity. Time is precious. The Italians do not equate work solely with monetary gain. On the contrary, it is a “moral training for the young. . . . To work is to show evidence that one has become a man or a woman, a full member of the fam­ily” (80). The coming of age gives a sense of pride, pride in per­forming honest work. Italians perceive dignity in any kind of hon­est work, no matter how “lowly” it is considered by other immigrant groups. Italians feel “the satisfaction in feeling the re­lationship between the ache in the back and arms that benefited the family” (81). Many Italian immigrants survived the horror of the steerage life on ships and the ordeal at Ellis Island; they lived in the city and were recruited for unskilled labor. They were known to be hard workers. Both men and women worked in blue-collar jobs where working conditions were dangerous. But they overcame insurmountable odds and bequeathed to all Americans the trade unions—unions that protected the rights of the common man and woman. For example, many Italian women fought to create the union for the garment industry. They were truly brave women who broke through the confines of their social roles.

The “ideal of womanliness” in an Italian woman, Gambino points out, is “la serietà” or “seriousness.” I found this section par­ticularly fascinating because I can trace it to my upbringing in my own family. The woman is indeed the center of the entire family and society. She can be described as its heart or vibrant core around which everything else pulsates. She enforces, as I saw evi­dent in the behavior of my grandmother, l’ordine della famiglia. My grandmother was the ultimate authority in the house. The Italian woman is a competent leader, sharp and practical in her familial affairs. In turn, young girls are brought up in this ideal. They are also trained to be like the Virgin Mary, pure, humble, silent, yet capable of bearing the weight of the world on their shoulders. I, a second-generation Italian-American daughter, was brought up in the same manner. When I was a toddler on the brink of throwing a tantrum, my mother would say, “the sweet Virgin will cry if you do not obey.” I would visualize streams of tears pouring out of such a pious and serene face as that of Mary, and I immediately complied. Now, I am a quiet and often described as a “serious” or “reserved” person. They are positive qualities that free me to be “me” without any fear or reservation.

In conclusion, l’ordine della famiglia, the strong work ethic, and la serietà have shaped my identity as a second-generation Italian-American woman. Gambino states that “Ethnicity is an identity of a person with himself and his experience” (327). I am the product of my experience. I carry with me not only the qualities of an American but also the values of an Italian. My ethnic roots have shaped me into the human being I am today, and they will con­tinue to govern my decisions and attitudes throughout the rest of my life. I am a hard worker, both in schoolwork and on the job, the result of a strong work ethic that goes back generations. I also carry the pride in my work as the immigrants who came before me, my grandparents, and parents who had to fight for what they have today. And I carry that serietà, an almost pious quality that shapes me, the Italian-American woman that I am today.

 

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Heather Godale

West Geauga High School

 

Pietro di Donato’s Christ in Concrete

 

Christ in Concrete by Pietro di Donato is an inspiring novel de­picting the life of an Italian immigrant family. The reader gets wrapped up in the heart-felt saga of Geremio’s family. The story makes the reader’s heart pound and makes his eyes tear as the family endures so many hardships. Through this the reader gains an understanding of the life of Italian families at this time and gains a richer understanding of his own background.

In the opening pages of the novel, Geremio is buried under concrete as the building collapses. Later, the reader witnesses Luigi in another accident that causes one of his legs to be ampu­tated. Finally, Nazone falls to his death at the construction site in the presence of Paul. These acts of violence serve a purpose in the novel; they allow the coming of age of Paul. However, I was al­most turned off by all these scenes. In the opening pages I could almost hear Geremio gasping for breath and praying that every breath would not be his last. Even my breath became labored. I felt the anguish of Luigi, Annunziata, and Paul when Luigi needed his leg amputated. I could see the horror in Paul’s eyes as his Nazone fell to his death. These scenes should not be seen as flaws but rather as strengths of the novel. The development of Paul’s character is directly related to these incidents. The reader follows Paul’s development as if it was his own. He sympathizes with Paul; he suffers with Paul; he matures with Paul, and he learns about life with Paul.

The most important aspect of this novel is how it affects the reader. I could have read Christ in Concrete, closed the book, and could have been done with it . . . but I didn’t. Before reading this novel I had no idea what my ancestors had gone through as they strove to succeed in their new hometown. I was very young when my Italian grandfather passed away. I never got to hear the won­drous stories of how his father had braved the Atlantic, discov­ered America for himself, started his own life over again, and how he made my family everything that it is. I am sorry to say that I never grew up with a strong Italian influence but, rather, with the influence of many different backgrounds. This, however, has taught me to take pride in each and every one of my heritages and to cherish every memory and insight that I can get of where I came from. Christ in Concrete gave me a new understanding of the life of an Italian immigrant family. Like Geremio, my great-grand­father worked day in and day out in order to support his family in America. Furthermore, in the novel the importance of the ex­tended family was emphasized as this importance has been car­ried down through the generations and in to my family. The fam­ily that Geremio left behind could not have survived without the comfort and the support that was offered to them by their ex­tended family. Time was always found for the individual and for his needs. Is this how the world works today? Based on my expe­riences I would have to disagree. In today’s society everything is rush, rush, rush. Attention is given for the good of society rather than for the good of the individual. This novel made me realize this and has caused me to reflect on how I treat others versus how I treat society as a whole.

Secondly, the impact of Catholicism was emphasized through­out the novel. Whenever anything went wrong in the novel, God was always the answer. Their whole lifestyle revolved around their religion. They believed that everything happened for a rea­son and that their only comfort in life was prayer. To me it was spiritually motivating to see the impact of Catholicism on their lives. It made me take a look at my own beliefs and realize that with the help of God I could do so much more with my own life. In today’s society the religious world has taken a back seat to that of the materialistic world. The religious aspect of my Italian heri­tage has stayed with me as I have been brought up as a devout Catholic. However, sometimes I feel like I am the only one. In the novel everyone was a believer and that was respected and ex­pected out of everyone. Today it seems like no one is a believer and if you are others seem to look at you and ask, “What’s wrong with you?” I see nothing wrong with a strong belief in God, and seeing the importance of religion in Geremio’s family has helped to reaffirm my belief that religion should play an important role in today’s society.

This novel has taught me to take pride in my Italian ancestry and everything that goes along with it. These people braved their lives, risked everything that they had, and started a new life. No matter how hard or how impossible it seemed, they overcame the obstacles and survived. As of today, we can wonder what it was really like, but we will never really find out. We can only sit back and wonder about our past as our ancestors probably sat back and reflected on their own past years upon years ago. We must learn from their mistakes and try to provide our children with the same memories and morals that our own forefathers left us with. In this manner we will be able to preserve the rich heritage of our Italian ancestors that must not be forgotten.

 

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Christine Cicirelli

Wickliffe High School

 

 

Susan Caperna Lloyd’s No Pictures in My Grave

 

No Pictures in My Grave is the book that has given me a new in­sight concerning Italian women in their native country. It has shown me their place in the traditional Italian society, their inde­pendence and the way they are viewed because of their gender. It has also shown me the sacrifices of the women that have come before us all and the struggles and hardships that went hand in hand with playing the role of wife, mother, and woman.

In Trapani, Sicily every year there is a special event that goes on during the week of Easter known to most as the Processione. During this event life-size statues of important figures of the church, such as The Madonna Addoralata [the sorrowing Ma­donna], are carried on huge platforms in a procession around the city for a twenty-four hour time period by the men of the town. It is grueling and physically demanding work and it is the men who symbolically carry the Madonna around in search of her dead son. It is the words in this next line that seem to strike out to the heart and explain the view and beliefs of many Italians: “How was it that in Sicily the focus of the whole town was not on the dying son but on the grief-struck mother?” (6). It is from this line that the entire premise of this book occurs.

The author noted that the women of Sicily seemed to be invisi­ble. How odd one would think, that with all of the respect and strength portrayed in the sorrowing Madonna that the women she represents are never seen? And it is in this thought that the truth of the matter shines brightly. As Mary watched her son suffer and die, silently mourning her child, so, too, do the women of Italy. They are the silent strength, always standing in the background watching and mourning the hardships of life. Instead of existing in the eyes of the public they are tucked away and protected in the arms of their family, tolerating their roles with a silent strength. It appears that the socially acceptable place for a woman in Italy is indeed in the home. Within these walls women are permitted to create their own world, they are the bosses and are rarely ques­tioned. It is in this world that a woman’s primary function is to serve the men in her life, be it father or husband or children. And it is the girls, even at a young age, who are in the kitchens helping their mothers prepare a feast, or helping with the housework. It was quite prominent in this book that the most important struc­ture that the Italians cherish in life is family. But I have seen a dif­ferent support system that exists for the women of Italy, and that support is found in one another. It is the women who seem to con­stantly be together, who commiserate and empathize with the hardships that each must go through and offer the support and understanding that one needs to survive. For in the male domi­nated society in which these women find themselves a part of, they have little or no freedom outside the confines of their home. Examples of such beliefs appear in the daily rituals that women go through, such as when women leave their homes they have an escort, male or female, following not far behind. It is the respect­able women who are not permitted out of their houses after the setting of the sun, or who seem to be content in the fact that their lives consist of only their husband, children, food, and God. It seems that these “rules” and accepted social mores are indeed prehistoric but many of Italy’s modern day women seem to mer­rily play these roles. Is it in playing the mother or wife or daughter that makes these women what they are? Is this the role that gives them the strength and earns them the respect of the men in their lives? Many women in this book were viewed as being almost Herculean in the sense of the hardships and sorrows that they seemed to bare and undergo with their families. The sacrifices of service that so many of them give without question. I saw through the eyes of the author that the women, strong in their faith, fre­quently commiserate with the sorrowing Madonna. Do they find such an attraction to her, because like her they suffer too? Do many of them wish for more freedom or do they just willfully go along with their expected roles? Through reading this book and many others I have found that the wife and especially the mother are revered with the utmost respect and love in the Italian society. And I now believe through the help of this book that the Italian women who chose a life of service, of mother, of wife, are those women who are essentially the strongest. For they must sit self­lessly in the background and watch the sorrows and joys that be­fall a family that they had a part in creating. I see now why these women are so respected in the eyes of their families, because they are the ones who are the wisest. Never are they the ones who are in the spotlight, or carrying the platforms in the Processione, or carousing after dark. They never seem to be able to enjoy much deserved freedoms or a break from the mundane routines of life. Instead they are the ones who see life as it really is. They are fa­miliar with hardship and disappointment but know truth and joy as well. They live through their families and therefore take on the joys or hardships that befall it. They feel and hurt and laugh and pray with however many people have been included in their crea­tion of this close-knit family structure.

The respect for the women that I have gained because of this book is immeasurable. Though I could not personally live the life that many of these women have and do, I find myself almost fond of their passion for family and faith. Perhaps in America where women are expected to balance family and work and school and children we lose sight of the importance of family and faith. We seem to lose sight of the importance of stability and security in­sured with a strong foundation of family bonds. If there could be a melding of this passionate love and adherence to faith and family and individual freedom that should be genderless we can wait in hopeful anticipation of a world that will have placed value on the importance of family as well as individualism, respect, and free­dom. And we will understand and respect the sacrifices that our mothers and grandmothers have made to insure that we were put in a place where we can decide and have the choice of what is best for ourselves, our children, and generations to come.

 

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Ricardo A. DiFranco

Mayfield High School

 

“Reflections Upon the Italian Immigration”

 

As my parents did twenty years ago, many Italian immigrants came to the United States with hopes of an easier lifestyle and abundant opportunities. What they were confronted with was the harsh reality that America was not all that they had imagined. Life was tough, and making ends meet was a struggle, but they stuck it out and now, as a first-generation Italian immigrant, I am thankful for their triumphs.

Growing up in Italy, children are taught hard work and loyalty to their family. This hard work ethic was put to the test when many Italian immigrants arrived on the shore of Ellis Island. Many did not know a single word of English, but that did not dis­courage them. Starting a new lifestyle was difficult, but the Ital­ians never forgot why they had decided to come to America. Many Italians came to America with hopes of a better life for their children. This unselfishness, struggling now so that the next gen­eration will have it easier, is what defines the Italian immigrant.

The immigrants relied heavily on their religious background to help them through the rough times. Catholicism had a definite stronghold among the Italian immigrant community. Early immi­grants first saw themselves as Christians, then as men or women from a particular village or town. A man from Bari was a Baresi, from Palermo a Palmeritano, from Naples a Napolitano. But, when he arrived to America, no matter what region he was from, he was labeled an Italian. That sense of identity and pride for his region was taken away. He was now forced to assume the stereotypes of all Italians, no matter if the stereotypes were fitting or not. That was tough and, at times, overwhelming.

The most conspicuous Italians in the United States before the Civil War were the political refugees. They made the United States their haven while keeping an eye on the politics of Italy. Some of the younger refugees even went as far as to join the “Italian Guard,” a military training unit in New York, with the expectation of returning to Italy to fight for unification. But these refugees were met with hostility by the American people. The Americans felt that their country was being used as a “dumping ground” for undesirables. This resentment was found among the American people, but not among the American authorities. The authorities accepted groups of refugees who were said to have been given the choice in Italy of either going to jail or being deported to the United States.

Through all the tough times and the struggles, the Italians never forgot how to have a good time and celebrate their festivals. Usually for religious purposes, these festivals were huge events, joining together hundreds of Italian immigrants. This sense of pride and togetherness helped the immigrants when times got tough or the struggles seemed overbearing. Every major town had now developed a Piccola Italia, or Little Italy, where immigrants would gather and be able to talk freely about their homeland and the struggles they were now facing. It was a safe-haven from the harsh, unknown of the rest of the United States.

Many Italian immigrants helped shape the early years of the United States. One such man is Giovanni P. Morosoni. He arrived in New York as a penniless sailor and later became an influential banker and partner of Jay Gould, the notorious railroad magnate. Morosoni is remembered not only for his struggles, but for his collection of European armor and arms that is stored in he Metro­politan Museum of Art.

Writing this report has given me an insight into the history of my family. Sure, I knew that I was one hundred percent Italian, but I did not really know what that meant. I am proud to be con­sidered Italian. Now every time the fall comes around and I help my father make his homemade wine, I will remember the strug­gles that our ancestors went through for us to be able to enjoy the lives we now lead. I am grateful and appreciative of the battles they endured for their children.

Every summer night my father and I go to our local park and play bocce with his friends. I am, by far, the youngest player there, but over the years I have gained their respect. Each person is like a teacher to me, and I am their pupil. The lessons I have learned from these men, I will cherish for the rest of my life. It is amazing how much knowledge some of these men have. Many of them only went to school until their early teens, my father included, but they have picked up on things from every situation they were en­countered with. Now I know why I think my father is the smartest person I know. He is able to handle any situation with ease. I hope that one day, I will be able to take some of his knowledge and ap­ply it to my own life.

Now my father has taken his knowledge into the restaurant business. Whereas many of his friends have succumb to the pres­sures of adjusting to a new lifestyle, and are now forced to do la­bor-intensive work, my father challenged himself to learn how to run a restaurant business. His struggle to open his own restaurant parallels the struggle of his ancestors coming to America. He is working to improve the lives of his children, as did the immi­grants. Both, equally difficult struggles. Both, equally rewarding results.

 

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Jennifer DeCarlo

Solon High School

 

Rose Basile Green’s Primo Vino

 

Primo Vino written by Rose Basile Green was an excellent ac­count of Italian-American traits and heritage as it explained the importance of family, events, and achievements. The title is a compliment itself, as it compares Italians to the finest wine.

The strength and love of the Italian family is portrayed as an important set of close-knit relationships. Green explains the bond by saying, “The family protects unity and respects loyalty, their shrine and syndicate” (21). The roles of the parents are also de­scribed. The father displays dignity and pride for his family. At the same time, the mother’s role is to keep the household func­tioning and to “harmonize” (22–23). Every person has a role and when everything is done well, the family feels proud and hon­ored.

Honor felt by the Italian family is heightened at special events such as graduations and weddings. These important events are distinguishing and cause family to feel pride and respect for such achievements. These events are times when dreams come true and a time for family and friends to come together and share happi­ness (40–41).

The Italian culture can be recognized for its outstanding achievements. The arts of winemaking, culinary style, and opera singing are only a sample of the many artistic contributions. Fa­mous Italians such as Enrico Fermi, who won the Nobel Prize as a scientist, and Enrico Caruso, a famous opera singer (58–61) make the Italian public especially proud. The vast number of Italian authors that make books such as Primo Vino possible are also very important as they help people to learn more about Italian culture and heritage.

    Primo Vino is a great collection of works that demonstrated the importance of a close-knit family, honorable events in life, and pride in achievements. I am even more proud to be an Italian after reading this book, and gaining a heightened awareness of my heritage. I am also proud to be compared metaphorically to Primo Vino, the finest wine.

 

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Marisa Pocci

Padua High School

 

 

Jerre Mangione’s Mount Allegro

 

Mount Allegro is a heartwarming and often humorous collection of tales about growing up Italian in an ethnic neighborhood of Rochester, New York. The book is written by Jerre Mangione, who grew up the sum of two Sicilian immigrants. Although it is his true life story, the names in it were changed so that book could be sold as fiction. The main character, Mangione himself, is called Gerlando Amoroso. He grew up in a section of Rochester filled with immigrants, many of them Sicilian. The Sicilians stick to­gether, since they are all either relatives or friends. Mangione re­calls the days of his childhood when the whole family would get together for huge Italian meals, after which the women would clean up and gossip and the men would play briscola. He also re­counts tales of the neighborhood “gang” to which he belonged—a bunch of boys, including his brother, who played and fought with the other neighborhood kids.

Mainly, though, the stories were about family life. One of the most memorable characters was Uncle Luigi. Ever since he had come to the United States, he spent most of his time jumping from religion to religion and looking for a rich woman to marry. A funny anecdote is told about once when Uncle Luigi thought he had finally found a wealthy marriage prospect, until she broke off their relationship, which had only consisted of writing letters back and forth to begin with. Even by the end of the book, he never did find the right woman. Another relative, Uncle Nino, also leaves his impression on the reader. He is one of the more educated members of the family, and he enjoys talking and entertaining the children with his stories. Most of the tales he tells seem exagger­ated, and all of them are about friends or family members. Some of the stories are handed down Sicilian tales, and many of them take place in the Sicilian hometown of Mangione’s parents and relatives, Girgenti.

Many times throughout the book, Girgenti is fondly remem­bered as the beloved land that the family and friends came from and where they one day hope to return to. These family stories, as a matter of fact, make up most of the book.

Along with his relatives’ stories, Mangione tells quite a few of his own. He remembers the “mean” neighbors who used to inter­fere with the neighborhood boys playing in the street, and he re­calls the friendly neighbors who stuck up for them. One of their neighbors is the elderly Mr. Michelangelo, who always encour­aged the kids to enjoy themselves and stood up to the neighbors that hassled them. A whole chapter of the book is dedicated to telling about the time that Mr. Michelangelo built a huge wall between his house and the house of a crabby old lady who lived next door. All in all, though, most of the people who lived in Mount Allegro—the nickname given to their neighborhood, geo­graphically incorrect though it was (there was no mount)—en­joyed the children’s presence.

Mangione describes feeling ashamed of his Sicilian parents as a child. It was not until many years later that he learned to be proud of his heritage and discovered why his family refused to forget about where they came from. After years of being amazed at how devoted to their hometown his parents and relatives were, Mangione decided to visit there himself.

Girgenti turned out to be in some ways what Mangione had expected, but in many other ways it was completely different from the picture his family had painted of it in his mind. It was a beau­tiful place, lush and green, as he had expected. Going there was like taking a step backward in time. The part Mangione was not prepared for, however, was the poverty that he encountered ev­erywhere he went. He realized that his relatives there were much poorer than his family in America. He also discovered that they were much more ignorant on some matters. One of these matters was a belief that so many foreigners hold—that in America every­one becomes wealthy and that the streets are “paved with gold.” Mangione’s visit to Sicily is the most meaningful part of the book, as he finally discovers more about his heritage than he ever could have learned from listening to stories told at the dinner table in Rochester, New York.

From many different aspects, I was able to relate to Mangione’s story. Like him, through the years I have learned to embrace my Italian heritage. I remember being younger and feeling a little bit silly when my grandparents spoke to my parents in Italian when we were in public places such as restaurants or stores. Now, I feel proud to be seen with them anywhere. I always take my grandma to the supermarket and the fabric store, and if she cannot under­stand something being said to her in English, I am more than happy to try my best to explain it to her in Italian. Sometimes my dad and I go out for coffee, and we try to spend the whole time conversing in only Italian. I have realized just how important my ethnic roots are, and instead of ignoring them, I try to learn as much about them as I can.

The characters in Mount Allegro remind me of my family, and their family gatherings are also just like ours. We get together as often as we can, which is quite often, and like Mangione’s rela­tives, we are loud and loving. We consider every holiday, birth­day, and picnic to be an opportunity to get together and reminisce, laugh, eat, quarrel (in a friendly manner, of course!), sing, and play a few hands of poker. Like Mangione’s family, we are very close-knit and love seeing each other—sometimes we even take vacations together.

In recent years, I have been able to visit my parents’ and grandparents’ hometowns in Tuscany and Abruzzi. As Mangione realized when he visited Girgenti, I found that until I went there, I had no way of understanding why the places they came from were so significant to my relatives. Being there was being in a dif­ferent world—a place where time stood still and tradition and family meant everything. Reading Mount Allegro helped me to remember that all over again.

 

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