I'm Italian-that's why!

Actually, if you must know I'm Sicilian...100% and proud of it!  I do though have to apologize to my non-Italian readers.  I'm sorry if you cannot relate to this blog.  I'm sorry that you may not agree or understand some of the things I write about.  I'm sorry , in fact, that you are all not Italian ,because being Italian is the best thing in the world....at least that's how I was raised.   I swear if you were Italian. you moved up a few places in my parents' book.
A couple years ago I went to a staff development in service about diversity.  We sat in a circle and the icebreaker for the group was to talk about how our parents brought us up and what they taught us about other races and religions. So one by one these people, these liars I thought, talked about how their parents told them that everyone is equal.  It doesn't matter what nationality or religion or race they are...you treat everyone the same. Bullshit!  Seriously everyone must have been raised by Gandhi or Mother Theresa or something. I started to get all hot and nervous- what the hell am I going to say?  Then I realized there was not one West Side of Buffalo Italian in the mix.. So when they got to me.  I said "well, if I am being honest, my parent were the most prejudiced people around- I was taught if you weren't Italian you weren't quite as good as we were" I got a lot of dirty looks-but  I have to say it was kind of cool to admit that,  Sorry Americanis, that was my childhood
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My childhood consisted of sauce (not gravy )every Wednesday and Sunday.  On Sunday, we would go to my grandparent's-Mimi and Papa-that is.  We would go right after church and stay until  Ed Sullivan. We would have macaroni and meatballs and spareribs and beef and on special occasions, ox tails or braciole, Then we would have nuts and spumoni ice cream.  After hours of eating my sister and my cousins would go play to the sounds of  Vicki Carr (let it please he him...) or Connie Francis or Al Martino (more on him later). Eventually my grandparents had a taste for some non Italian music- Herb Albert and the Tijuana Brass....I'll never understand what the connection was but they loved  that Dating Game theme!  Then we would watch THE BIG SHOW OF THE WEEK  ( I only remember seeing the same three movies on the Big Show of the Week, two of them starred Don Knotts...they just re ran them over and over)  After that "sangwiches " for dinner. And that was EVERY Sunday!  We didn't know any different,  I mean didn't everyone do this?

Didn't everyone live above, behind or next door to their grandparents. Grandparents who would think nothing of giving a seven year old a glass of brandy because it was cold out.  I wonder if I spent any part of my elementary school years a little drunk- who would know. We lived on the West Side- everyone was Italian  so probably our whole class had no problem at nap time- especially in the dead of winter.  If you went to School 49 in the 1960's  and you know who YOUS are- you probably can relate.

At Christmas we didn't make cutout cookies - we had cuccidatis (fig cookies) gigilani (sesame seed cookies) butter balls ( those powder sugary onse that if you try to sneak one in the middle of the night, you may or may not risk choking to death by  inhaling the sugar as you shove one in your mouth- yes I am speaking from experience, ) The food, oh the food!  My Mimi would make the most delicious food-half of the recipes she made up.  She made macaroni with....with peas, with broccoli, with cauliflower, with anything, And it wasn't pasta ...it was MACARONI -curly (rotini), spears (penne) unless, of course, it was spaghetti .  Anything breaded with Italian bread crumbs and fried  .... yum...anything that starts out with garlic and olive oil -which incidentally is the BEST smell in the world-hands down!  Can we talk about gardooni?   Okay so a while ago a fellow Italian brought me a big bag of gardoons and plopped them on my desk.  Gardooms are weeds that grow, as I remember my grandparent's saying, on the side of the road.  If you have never seen them I guess they kind of resemble rhubarb....you clean them, boil the shit out of them, dip them in egg and flour and fry them....to everyone else- wtf?   to Italians- heaven!    We do love to eat... In my kitchen the words Mangia e Statti Zitto are proudly displayed- translation- Shut up and Eat!!

Oh and for the record it's not MANICOTTI ...it's mani GO ti  - not RICOTTA - rig GO tha....and a colander or a strainer is a scolapasta.   As a little girl from Busti Avenue thrown into the suburbs it was kind of hard to realize that not everyone talked like that - doesn't everyone know what chichidee is ..(chick peas) By the way, there is nothing sweeter than my grandson (1/16 th Italian) grabbing his head and saying "oh my GAGOOZA !"

Whenever anything Italian related is on tv (and not those stupid Olive Garden embarrassing Italians) I can relate.  The Godfather ( and yes I have been asked a million times if my family was in the Mafia and yes the answer is NO) I love that movie and  Goodfellas- not so much for the story, but for the way the picked up on the nuances of being Italian. The cooking, the eating, the shouting (it's just regular talking) the slang or the way Sonny Corleone bites his fist when he's mad- just like Mimi used to!  Oh and the weddings....yes my wedding had a couple fights and an uncle storming out it,  but it goes down in history because my Uncle Jimmy pulled a gun on my sound guy and told him to play more Al Martino music. Yep...that was my wedding,  Like in the Goodfella's wedding, where they are all named Peter or Paul- my dad's side of the family you only need to know three names- Fred, Joe or Angelo and you've got just about everyone covered.

There is a certain comfort in knowing that a lot of these things are kind of universal among Italians. As an adult, I talk to other Italians and reminisce as though we grew up together -it's like we have  the same history.  I especially like when you don't realize someone is Italian - with me, it's pretty easy -dark eyes, black hair, year round tan- I was once referred to by a teacher as "the map of Sicily".  With some people, you're not sure then you start a conversation and they mention bleaching  their upper lip by the age of 10 or they knock stuff over with their flailing hands as they talk (I just did that the other day) or they do the gasp,  The gasp is the sound most Italians make which sounds like they are sucking all the air out of the room.  This gasp is done with the same intensity, no  matter what. If you drop a  piece of paper or almost get hit by a car...it's the same sound!  If you re Italian you've heard this sound a million time. I just did it now because I deleted the wrong sentence.
  

Now I've never been to Italy but I am perpetually saving to go and I know I will get there someday. But until then we should all try to be more Italian - instead of scarfing down lunch in a half hour-
Let's lunch like Italians.  Lunch in Italy they say, is the most important meal.  I hear store shut down between  1:00 and 4:00 for pausa pranzo (lunch break) throw a nap in there- I can so do that, no problem!
Let's hug and kiss  more. I remember it taking my family hours to say good bye. So much hugging and kissing because we would have to wait all the way to next Sunday to see them again.  The first time we met with my daughter's  "in-laws to be" (not Italian), they commented on how they have never been hugged or kissed so much- I can think of worse problems
Let's keep our traditions alive.  I want my my grandkids to grow up knowing about St. Joseph Day . When they get older I want them to celebrate that day as a day to eat as much as St. Patrick's Day is a day to drink. That middle week of March is very cultural for my kids!
So there you have it ,belle lettori- Italian! I've left  so much out I'm sure  and I'm also sure my   Goomadis will let me know and maybe there will be a part due someday.
And for those of you who are wondering how my parent reacted when I brought home a green eyed, fair skinned,  Irish guy home...never fear  - he's a part Italian....the best part- just sayin