Ciao
I am an Italian American.
My roots are deep in ancient soil.
Drenched by the Mediterranean sun
and watered by pure steams from
snow capped mountains.
I am enriched by thousands of years of culture.

I Grew up the granddaughter of Italian Sicilians, in Lawrence Massachusetts's.
I now live in Nottingham New Hampshire.
When I was a child in the sixties a lot of Italians
still lived in Lawrence.
Then by the 1970's most had moved out.
I'm 1/2 Italian, but my parents
divorced when I was two,
so my two brothers and I were raised
in a 100% Italian home,
by my Mother, my Grandparents, and my Aunt.

This is all of us.
My Nonna on the left,
My brother Freddy with the red sweater wearing a wig,
Me with my eyes closed,
My aunt Rosalie,
My Nanno,
My Mother and my brother Bobby.

 Almost all the kids in the neighborhood and who I
went to school with were Italian, as were all my
Mothers, my Aunts and my Grandparents friends.
We lived in a tenement building which my Grandfather
owned. There were four apartments.
We had our own apartment on the 3rd floor,
my Mother and I and my two Brothers.
My Grandparents and Aunt lived
in the apartment next door.
The other 2 apartments on the 2nd floor,
my Grandfather rented to Italian families,
but later to Spanish families.
We only slept in our apartment, everything
else happened next door at my Grandparents.
On the first floor (bottom street) level
were two stores, my grandfathers store
where he had sold Novelties,
called Fred's Novelties Store,
and next to it an Italian takeout, called the Italian Kitchen
which sold Crispellies and Rice balls.
Every last weekend in August was the Italian Feast
put on by the Holy Rosary Church,
(which was our church)
and the Saint Alfio's Society.

The Feast of St Alfio
in Lawrence Ma.

  Everyone came to our building to buy those Crispellies.
The line would go on for blocks.
Crispellies are dough stuffed with
either ricotta or anchovies, then deep fried.
The smell would waffle up into our windows,
smelling so good we had to eat some.
We always had free ones since my
grandfather owned the building.
That feast still goes on every year.
There were Italian markets on every corner.
We also had an Italian slush store that sold the best
slush, which in Italian is really called granita,
but we called it Lemonade, even though
it came in every flavor under the sun
including lemonade. We even called it the
"The Lemonade store"
which was really Bosso's Market,
but I guess we called it the
'Lemonade store" because when you walked in
that's what it smelled like, Lemonade.
Then there was the Italian pizza
palors, and bakeries, some of them
are still there like Tripoli's, Pappy's and Fischelli.
On a side note our bakery was Fisichelli,
our dentist Pittochelli,
and the doctor Cicciarelli.
I always got a kick out of how they all sounded alike.
There was DON SARTO who owned
'MUSEMECIS Market" which was on our block.
He was the meat man.
He always had on a white apron
covered in blood and a meat cleaver in his hand.
He sold olives in wooden barrels,
and my grandmother would buy them
from there. Across the street from
him was Cristoldi's market which sold
all the same things as MUSEMECIS Market
except the meat. Another store was
Catalanos which I think may still be there.
Back then people bought soda which
we called tonic in glass returnable bottles.
When people returned them they would store
them outside in the back ally, so my
brothers and there friends would take them from
the back and bring them to the front were the clerk
would pay them for their own bottles.
Of course they got caught and they knew them all,
everyone knew everyone back then and everyones
families would get called.Then they all got a beating.
We all got beatings back then and lived to
tell about it. Ask any Italian.
These days on the news you see parents hitting their kids
in parking lots, that was normal
for us.
We also had a fish market where my grandmother
bought fresh fish every Friday called Gangi's.
Then there was old man rags, he use to have
a small cart pulled by an old horse.
I think he bought or wanted peoples old rags,
because he always yelled out "RAGS"
we never knew why he wanted rags, but he fascinated us.
On the corner of our block old Italian men
would meet in the bottom levels of the buildings
where they would gamble,
and bet on the horses.
They would pull up in their big
Lincoln town cars and Cadillacs, then slide
into the building. Hours later they would emerge
with cigars hanging
out of their mouths and a little drunk.
They probably thought we didn't know
what they were doing, but of course we did.

Back in those days we would play outside until dark
in the back alleys of our blocks.
People were always yelling out their windows,
either to call a neighbor,
call their kids in or to yell at
kids to get off their property.
I'm not sure why they didn't use the phone, maybe
it was because back then everyone had party lines.

One old man, Mr Liccardelo, use to chase us with
his broom because he was the only one with
a section of his alley paved. He was always sweeping
it because he wanted it neat and clean.
I use to have nightmares of being chased by him
with his broom and my feet would feel like they
were stuck in mud.

On our block you knew almost everyones
dirty laundry because Italians normally talk
much, much, louder then most people.
When we fight it's even louder.
All us kids totally understood Italian but couldn't
speak it only a few words here and there.
We did however know fluently every Italian swear word.

Then there were the Italian meals. MMMM!!
Every meal growing up was a pasta dish with Italian
bread. Until this day I can tell you what we
ate each day of the week, because
everyday of every week was pretty much the same.
Monday was escarole with pasta or sometimes
Italian bread in place of the pasta with a
hard boiled egg.
Tuesday was pasta with broccoli.
Wednesday was chicken cutlets with pasta.
Thursday was Lentils, or eggplant.
Friday was always fish, and
Saturday was Italian wedding soup.
Sunday was the big event of the week.
Every Sunday was Pasta and Sauce with Meatballs.
We drank tonic, otherwise known as soda, and wine.
It didn't matter how old you were, you drank wine.
My grandparents would wake up and start cooking.
They always cooked together on Sunday,
and always fought doing it.
If they didn't have a fight on Sundays while cooking,
something was wrong.
My Mother, my Aunt, and my Brothers, and I
would have to go to Mass at the Holy Rosary Church
where I was baptized, made my Holy communion and
later was married, as was the rest of my family.
We also attended the Holy Rosary school.
In the summer we attended
The Star of The Sea catholic church
where I made my Confirmation

My Holy Communion,
I'm on the right,
My friend Beatrice in the middle,
and cut off is her sister Marialana.

  On Sundays we were not allowed
to eat a thing until we got home after church,
because we had to fast in order to receive Holy
communion. After Church we always stopped at either
Pappy's or Tripoli's Bakery to buy 2 sticks
of Italian bread. We couldn't wait to get home
and when we did it would always be to
the smell of Italian meatballs frying in Olive oil.
What a wonderful smell!! My Grandparents
would always save us a
couple of meatballs each, to eat before putting
them in the sauce.
Then when the food was ready,
we would all sit down and eat.
My Grandfather always sat at the head
of the table, and would tell us his wonderful stories
of Italy, which he called " The old country" ,
and stories of a character named "Berthodo".

My Nanno at the head of the table.

  I can't talk about meals without
telling you what we ate for Breakfast, and lunch.
Breakfast was when we ate Biscotti's with Italian coffee.
I know people eat them now a days for dessert,
but that's not the Italian way.
Biscotti's are an Italian breakfast item.
Lunches were one of my favorites
My grandparents use to make, what we called olives consati,
or tomatoes consati.
This was calamari Olives, or tomatoes,
cut up and mixed with olive oil,
red wine vinegar, oregano, salt and pepper,
and eaten with fresh Italian bread.
Another favorite was Italian cheese sandwiches.
It's fresh baked and still warm Italian bread
cut open and smothered with Sharp imported Provolone Cheese,
drizzled with olive oil, and pepper.
There was also Eggs with asparagus,
and still another favorite, roasted peppers,
with mushrooms in a red sauce,
served with fresh Italian bread.
I thinks almost all Italian food is my favorite!!

You know, the sheer splendor of an Italian meal is a marvel to behold.
Holidays, were a feast!
Every Italian dish imagined was
made from scratch.
Italian meals are not just served;
they are orchestrated.
My Grandmother, Mother and Aunt would start
cooking days before.
We would have Lasagna,and stuffed shells,
big meatballs,and little meatballs.
A roast,and a turkey. Stuffing, mashed potatoes,
cranberry sauce, Antipasto, Italian wedding soup
and salad.
There was so much food that things would be forgotten
to be put out. Dessert was an assortment of fruits,
nuts, pastries, my favorite, cannoli,and Cassata.
There were homemade cakes
and Italian cookies, wandis,
and always roasted chestnuts that my granfather
would always roast, and Jello, and pudding,
with homemade whipped cream.

Easter was pretty much the same
as Christmas, Thanksgiving, and other holidays except
a Ham and lamb were added.
For Easter us kids didn't receive
the traditional Easter basket,
like the type you buy in stores.
We received Italian Easter baskets.
These are an anise flavored pastry, shaped into an
Easter basket, with a real colored hard boiled
Easter egg baked into the basket,
and sprinkled with little round rainbow
colored jimmy's on top.
I have kept that tradition going with my own
children and will continue it with my grandchildren.

We can take pride in our spirit of abbondanza
(an abundant table), which no one ever leaves hungry.
Like every Italian knows holidays are where you learned
to eat a seven-course meal between noon and 4 PM.

When I was nine, we all went to Italy. My Mother, my 2 Brothers, my Grandmother,
my Grandfather and my Aunt.

From the left, My Nonna,
My Aunt Roe,
Father Torrisi, (Nannos cousin)
My Mother,
Cousin Nunzio,
front row, My brother Bobby
My brother Freddy,
Me, (Gina)
Cousin Maria.

From the left, standing, My brother Bobby,
our Cousin Nunzio,
My brother Freddy & me on Nunzios scotter
That's a wall of lava behind us from Mt. Etna.

  We stayed 8 weeks.
The first week was spent in Rome, I can still
remember the smell of that city.
We saw all the fountains, the Vatican,
and some Relatives.
The next six weeks we spent in Sicily, where we
visited more relatives, who to me were all
old people except for some cousins my age.
I was to young to appreciate it all.
I just wanted to go home,
so to make my point, every night while I
was there I sang America, and the star spangled banner.
The last week of our trip was spent again in Rome where we
did the same things we did the first week.

Every Summer was spent at my grandparents cottage at Salisbury Beach, Massachusetts.
Everyone of our neighbors there were Italian.
I loved Summers there most of all.
All of our Cousins, Aunts, Uncles, and Italian
friends would come by, for Sunday dinner.
I learned a lot of Italian cooking
from my mother and grandmother, but I also learned
from our neighbors.
At supper, everyone would send food over to each others houses,
so we all got to eat not only our own supper but
everyone else's too.The whole neighborhood at the beach
smelled like a live Italian cook book.
All the older Italian woman would send
the kids down to the water at low tide
and have us pick for snails which we
called Bubalougise, then they would cook them
in the most wonderful sauce you could ever imagine.
Everyone knew everyone,
so if you did something wrong you always got caught
because someone saw and told.
There were also the parking wars were everyone fought
over the parking, putting up barrels to hold spots,
in front of their cottages, but after a hugh fight
and a lot of dramatics everyone was still friends.
At the beach we all
watched out for each other, so while the older
woman were cooking everyone else was
watching everyone elses kids in the water, and on the
beach, and crossing the street.
Us kids had it the best at the beach
we would wake up, have breakfast,
then get our bathing suits on and go down to the water,
go home for lunch, have to wait a 1/2 hour to go back in
the water, say until 4 or 5 go back to the cottage to eat
supper, have a shower, then go to the center.
That's were all the rides, games, and arcades,
were, and Salisbury beach onion rings,
the best in the world.
Then when we got back to the cottage all the
relatives and friends would stop over
for more food and drinks. Of course us kids
were suppose to be in bed, but we
either snuck up or listened to all the
stories and excitement.

From the left, standing my Aunt Rosalie,
she holding me age 2,
My Nonna,
She's holding My brother Bobby's hand,
he's 16 months old
Rita our neighbor

Today all of our friends and relatives in Lawrence
have either died or moved.
The building we grew up in was torn down a few years ago.
They still have the Italian feast every August,
put on by the Holy Rosary Church,
and Saint Alfio's Society,
but I think mostly Spanish people go to
it now or so I've been told.
My Mother, Aunt, and their Cousins have the
best stories of growing up Italian.

Cousins at Salisbury Beach

  My great grandmother owned a lot of property
in Salisbury Beach and so everyone lived either
in the same cottage or next door
to each other. Some people are still
there, many though have died or sold
their property and moved their summer cottages
to lakes, or Hampton Beach NH.
Like Lawrence, Salisbury is not like it use to be.
It use to be very family orientated.
Now the good places are gone replaced with
strip clubs, and the beaches are dirty.
But we have our memories our stories,
and our wonderful Italian heritage!!
Who could ask for anything more!

Buon Giorno, Gina

Click here for more photo's of my Italian family.
Pictures Page 1

Click here for my Grandparents page.