Italian America Magazine - Spring 2020

When Everybody's Italian The Summer Saint Celebrations of Boston's North End

An Olive Tree for Evelyn And the Perfect Memory in Calabria

Nonna's Knife

Il coltello da cucina con cui non posso separarmi

The Last Supper of Pompeii Lessons Learned from their Leftovers

ITALIAN AMERICA

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Cook, eat, enjoy, repeat.

A FAMILY. A BRAND. A LIFESTYLE.

Find this recipe and others on COLAVITA.COM

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ITALIAN AMERICA

SPRING 2020

VOL. XXV No. 2

Italian America

®

T h e O ff i c i a l P u b l i c a t i o n o f t h e O r d e r S o n s a n d D a u g h t e r s o f I t a l y i n A m e r i c a ®

FEATURES

8

WHEN EVERYBODY’S ITALIAN!

The Summer Saint Celebrations of Boston’s North End

By Kevin M. Walsh

14 22

NONNA’S KNIFE

Il coltello da cucina con cui non posso separarmi

By Marilyn Arseneau

AN OLIVE TREE FOR EVELYN And the Perfect Memory in Calabria

By Miles Ryan Fisher

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THE LAST SUPPER OF POMPEII Lessons Learned from their Leftovers

By Deborah Rubin Fields

ON THE COVER: Olive trees in Italy. (Mikhail Pankov)

D E PA R T M E N T S 2 High Profile 4 National News 5 Oggi 6 Regions 7 Mangia

11 Bulletin Board 12 Pagina Italiana 18 Book Reviews 20 Our Story 21 Speakers Bureau 26 OSDIA Nation

31 From the National 32 Foundation Focus 33 Fighting Stereotypes 34 Letters to the Editor 35 The Last Word 36 Piacere

ITALIAN AMERICA is published by the ORDER SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF ITALY IN AMERICA 219 E Street NE • Washington, DC 20002 • Phone: (202) 547-2900 • Web: www.osia.org Editor-in-Chief: Miles Ryan Fisher mfisher@osia.org Writers: Kevin M. Walsh; Marilyn Arseneau; Deborah Rubin Fields Translator: Serena Lonigro Proofreader: Peggy Daino, Marlene Palazzo Graphic Designer: Diane Vincent To advertise: Contact ItalianAmerica@osia.org (202) 547-2900

Italian America Magazine is a publication of the Order Sons and Daughters of Italy in America (OSDIA), the nation’s biggest and oldest organization for people of Italian heritage. To subscribe, see www.osia.org or call (202) 547-2900.

ITALIAN AMERICA

SPRING 2020 1

HIGH PROFILE

ITALIAN AMERICANS MAKING AN IMPACT

Strand by Strand The Craft of Wig Maker Raffaele Mollica

BY SUSAN JENSEN

Raffaele Mollica is one of the last remaining wig makers who crafts each wig by hand, strand by strand. He’s been doing this work for almost a half-century and operates out of his cozy, welcoming New York City shop at 318 East 84th Street. Now in his seventies, he continues to work at his shop five or six days a week, ten hours a day, with no plans of slowing down.

As a young teen, Raffaele emigrated with his family from Sicily in 1956. The Mollica family settled in Astoria, Queens, and scraped by, working in the garment industry. Eventually, Raffaele began cutting and styling hair. As an artisan and perfectionist, he began to do precision haircuts that took a long time to cut well. This type of haircutting had just been introduced to New York City by Vidal Sassoon in the 1960s. Raffaele wound up in high-level, well-paying jobs at Sassoon, Kenneth, and finally Elizabeth Arden salons.

But by the early 1970s, Raffaele had grown weary of hair-styling. He had noticed that the wigs made for actresses and cancer patients were poorly constructed and looked fake, so he decided to create a lifelike scalp and use real human hair, strand by strand, to achieve the look of a real head of hair. Many times, the wigs he fashioned appeared better than a cancer patient’s natural hair before they’d lost it.

“The key to having a good-looking wig is for the hair to look healthy, clean, and natural,” Raffaele says.

“This requires at least as much work as cleaning and styling one’s own natural hair. Anyone thinking they will get a high quality wig to save time is wrong.”

The wigs that Raffaele has prepared for custom orders.

(Susan Jensen)

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Coinciding with his foray into wig making, the rates of breast, colon, and prostate cancer began to steeply rise

in the 1970s. While working at the Elizabeth Arden salon, Raffaele began inviting in more and more cancer patients in search of quality wigs. Meanwhile, the salon wasn’t thrilled to have their waiting rooms filled with bald, ill-looking people and suggested that Raffaele discreetly pursue Raffaele Mollica at his shop on the Upper East Side. other clientele. So Raf(Susan Jensen) faele did what he thought was right: he quit his job and started his own wig-making business in 1975 in a shop on 57th Street.

Raffaele’s warmth, kindness, and insight attracted a huge following of lifelong customers. He even “moves the cancer patients to the front of the line”—no matter what.

According to Raffaele, famous actresses and wealthy clients can either accept the way he prioritizes production or can seek a wig elsewhere. Orthodox Jewish women, who must wear a wig after marriage, make up another large portion of his clientele.

Through his work, Raffaele has learned to listen “between the lines” and decipher women’s unspoken desires and insecurities. And this is exactly what he did with me.

I noticed a woman in a wig, who just moments before was bald. She looked 20 years younger, emitting a vibrant radiance. Meanwhile, my own hair, fragile and thin when I was young, had become wispy and frail.

“Do you think you could make a wig for me?” I asked hesitantly. “Sweetheart, thank God you have your own hair,” he told me. “We haven’t spoken long, but I can see the kind of person you are, someone who is into people’s insides, not their outsides. Just cut your hair in an easy style, and forget about it. Enjoy your active, interesting life.”

For that, I gave Raffaele a big hug. Then let him get right back to work.

Susan Jensen (suejensen57@gmail.com) writes for many publications and particularly enjoys writing about all things Italian.

ITALIAN AMERICA

Order Sons & Daughters of Italy in America® Gold Membership Program National President Nancy DiFiore Quinn and the Supreme Council thanks you for your commitment to our beloved Order Donald V. Accurso

Thom A. Lupo (C)

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(C) denotes Charter Member

As of March 31, 2020

If you are interested in becoming a Gold Member, please contact the National Office at (202) 547-2900 or noffice@osia.org ITALIAN AMERICA SPRING 2020 3

NATIONAL NEWS

ITALIAN AMERICAN ISSUES AND EVENTS

Kobe Bryant, an Italian American at Heart While the deaths of Kobe Bryant and his daughter Gianna shook the NBA world and people across the United States last January, it had a profound effect on those in Italy. Bryant’s connection to the country was that of a second home. At the age of six, he moved with his family to the small town of Rieti, located in the Lazio region, when his father, former NBA player Joe Bryant, left to play basketball in Italy in 1984. It was there, in Italy, where Kobe Bryant grew up. He lived for seven years in the country, becoming fluent in Italian and learning the fundamentals of the sport on which he would leave an indelible mark.

“All of the NBA players are important,” said Italian Basketball Federation President Giovanni Petrucci. “But he’s particularly important to us because he knew Italy so well, having lived in several cities here.” Over his seven years in the country, Bryant lived in Rieti, Reggio Calabria (Calabria region), Pistoria (Tuscany region), and Reggio Emilia (Emilia-Romagna region).

By spending his formative years in Italy, Bryant never forgot his second home. “I grew up here in Italy,” he once said in an interview with Radio Deejay, a popular radio station in Italy. “It’s a country that will always be close to my heart. Always.” True to these words, Bryant and his wife gave all four of their daughters Italian names: Natalia Diamante, Gianna Maria-Onore, Bianka Bella, and Capri Kobe.

Bryant also lent a helping hand to NBA players coming from Italy, easing their transition into the league and their new life in the United States. “He was … always very attentive to help Italian kids arriving in the NBA and to

Kobe Bryant on his youth basketball team in Italy. His father, Joe Bryant, stands in back. help them enter such a tough and competitive world,” said Italian coach Ettore Messina, who served as an assistant on the Los Angeles Lakers during Bryant’s playing days.

Italy mourned Bryant’s and his daughter Gianna’s deaths, having basketball games at every level observe a minute of silence prior to games for an entire week.

U.S. Officials Recover Lost Columbus Letter Last January, U.S. officials announced that they had recovered the first letter that Christopher Columbus wrote to King Ferdinand of Spain after landing in the Americas. The letter had gone missing in the mid-1980s when it was presumably stolen from the Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana in Venice, Italy. The letter, which was written in Latin and is estimated to be worth $1.3 million, was found in Delaware following a long investigation by the U.S. Attorney’s Office in Delaware, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, and the Italian Carabinieri Command for Protection of Cultural Heritage.

Columbus’s first letter to King Ferdinand of Spain, reporting what he’d discovered in the Americas.

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Officials did not offer any details regarding where the letter was recovered or how it was stolen, only that it was authenticated and would be returned to its proper place in Venice.

ITALIAN AMERICA

OGGI IN ITALIA

ITALY’S NEWS, POLITICS, AND CULTURE

Coronavirus Shuts Down Italy On March 9, Prime Minister Giuseppe Conte placed all of Italy and its 60 million residents on lockdown in response to COVID-19. The nationwide quarantine, which had already taken effect in the Lombardy region and areas around Venice, was the first of its kind seen in the world. Military police, railway police, and health workers monitored train stations and highways to ensure that citizens adhered to the policy. The only stores open were pharmacies and grocery stores, leaving landmarks in Italy remarkably desolate.

Deaths resulting from the coronavirus exceeded 12,000 as of the beginning of April, making Italy the country with the highest number of fatalities.

The empty Spanish Steps in Rome. (Em Campos)

An empty Saint Peter’s Square in Vatican City.

(Gennaro Leonardi)

Italy Rescues Italian Food With an overwhelming majority, the Italian Parliament approved a bill enabling supermarkets and other food establishments to donate unsold food to charity organizations. The bill, which has origins in food legislation from 2016, is part of Italy’s objective to reduce annual food waste from five million tons of food to less than one million tons. According to Italian officials, food waste of five million tons represents a loss of 13 billion euro every year, which is about one percent of Italy’s Gross Domestic Product.

The bill aims to reduce food waste not by punishing businesses that do not comply, but by offering tax breaks to those that do. The more food a business gives away, the larger the tax break. In addition to the tax break, the bill also eases regulations that had deterred businesses from donating surplus food for fear of violating health and safety laws. Now, businesses can donate food that is past its expiration date but still unspoiled.

ITALIAN AMERICA

By enacting this legislation, Italy joins France as the only European countries with such laws meant to prevent food waste. France’s law, however, fines businesses who do not comply.

Emoji Goes Italian This year, one of the most famous Italian hand gestures will be one of 62 new emoji icons to appear on devices. Though it will officially be called the “Pinched Fingers” emoji, this ever-familiar hand gesture needs no name and little description.

Sometimes referred to in Italian as ma che vuoi (what do you want), the gesture is often used to express aggravation or irritation, though much of the time it is simply understood in the context in which it is used.

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REGIONS OF ITALY

ITALY’S TWENTY REGIONS

Liguria

La Bella Vita on the Riviera Although Liguria is the third smallest region (behind the Aosta Valley and Molise), it is perhaps one of the most well-known and photographed regions in Italy. Liguria is situated along Italy’s northwest coast, curling around the Ligurian Sea, which is part of the Mediterranean. To the very west, Liguria borders France. To the north, it borders the region of Piedmont, and then it wraps around to border Emilia-Romagna to the northeast and Tuscany to the east. Most of Liguria consists of mountains (65%) or hills (35%).

The main reason for Liguria’s popularity revolves around its 195-mile coastline—known as the Italian Riviera—that stretches along the Ligurian Sea. The coastline is spanned in nearly equal proportions by Liguria’s four provinces: (from west to east) Imperia, Savona, Genoa, and La Spezia. The western part of the coast is known as FUN FACT: Standing at 249 feet, Genoa’s La Laterna is the tallest lighthouse in Italy. It is the fifth-tallest in the world and, built in the 12th century, the third-oldest. the Riviera di Ponente (Coast of the Rising Sun) and includes renowned resort towns such as San Remo, Imperia, Alassio, Loano, and Finale Liguria. The eastern part of the coast is known as the Riviera di Levante (Coast of the Setting Sun) and includes notable towns such as Portofino, Rapallo, and the often-photographed Cinque Terre.

Cinque Terre is situated on the coast of the Province of La Spezia and is named for its five villages: Monterosso al

Campitello di Fassa, a small village in Trentino that sits within the Dolomites. (Dontsov Evgeny) (Anna Om)

Manarola is the oldest of Cinque Terre’s five villages.

Mare, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola, and Riomaggiore.

Recognized for its colorful houses along the coastline (painted with vibrant colors so fishermen could spot their homes from the sea), Cinque Terre attracts 2.5 million visitors every year. Many of them hike either a portion or all of the Sentiero Azzurro (The Blue Trail) that connects all five towns. The trail, which extends more than six miles, takes about five hours to complete and can vary in height by nearly 2,000 feet.

Long before Cinque Terre attracted millions of tourists (and Portofino attracted the rich and the famous), it was Genoa that attracted outsiders to Liguria. One of the most powerful port cities in history, Genoa is Italy’s largest seaport. More than half of Liguria’s population resides there, making it the sixth-largest city in Italy. Perhaps Genoa is best known, however, for being the birthplace of Christopher Columbus.

When it comes to food, Liguria is the home of two Italian favorites: pesto and focaccia. While the region has a very diverse menu, it would be hard not to take advantage of its seafaring ways and order fish, which is almost certain to be the literal catch of the day.

Liguria Capital: Genoa Population: 1,556,981 (12th of the 20 regions) Size: 2,093 square miles (18th of the 20 regions)

Genoa’s bustling port is the 2nd largest in Italy, behind Reggio Calabria’s Port of Gioia Tauro. (Evgeny Drokov) SPRING 2020

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Provinces: Genoa, Imperia, La Spezia, Savona ITALIAN AMERICA

MANGIA!

Passion Fruit Spritz

Scallops Saltimbocca

Ingredients 4 ounces chilled prosecco

Ingredients 11/2 pounds Yukon Gold potatoes

2 ounces passion fruit juice

12 dry sea scallops, “foot” or side muscle removed (about 12 ounces to 1 pound)

1 ounce Aperol Passion fruit seeds, for garnish

Kosher salt 12 small fresh sage leaves 12 thin slices speck Vegetable oil, for frying 2 ears corn, shucked 2 tablespoons unsalted butter 1/2 to 3/4 cup heavy cream 2 tablespoons chopped fresh chives 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil • Peel 1/2 pound of the potatoes, and cut them into matchsticks. Soak them in a bowl of ice water for 1 hour.

Combine the prosecco, passion fruit juice, and • Season the scallops lightly with salt. Press a sage leaf onto the top of each scallop, then wrap each scallop in a slice of speck, trimming to fit if Aperol in a white-wine glass, and stir. Add ice, necessary. and garnish with passion fruit seeds. You can also garnish with a slice of almost any fresh • Pour about 3 inches of vegetable oil into a medium pot and heat to 360 fruit, according to season. A slice of orange or degrees. Bring a medium pot of water to a boil, add the corn, and simmer peach would be good. Serve immediately. until the kernels are tender, about 5 minutes.

• Drain, and rinse to cool. Cut the kernels from the cobs, and reserve. Put the remaining 1 pound potatoes in the same pot with water to cover, bring to a simmer, and cook until tender, about 15 to 18 minutes.

• Drain the potatoes, and peel while still hot. Press through a ricer or food mill back into the pot, adding butter to melt over low heat. Add enough cream to make a smooth purée. Stir in the corn kernels and chives, and season with salt. Cover and keep warm.

• Drain the potato matchsticks well and fry, in two batches, in the heated oil until crisp, 2 to 3 minutes per batch. Drain on paper towels and season with salt.

• Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add the olive oil.

When the oil is hot, add the scallops and sear on both sides until the speck is crisp and the scallops are just cooked through, about 2 minutes per side.

• Serve the scallops on top of the corn purée and garnish with the fried potato sticks.

If you liked these recipes, find more in Lidia Matticchio Bastianich’s Felidia: Recipes from My Flagship Restaurant ITALIAN AMERICA

Excerpted from Felidia by Lidia Matticchio Bastianich with Chef Fortunato Nicotra and Tanya Bastianich Manuali. Copyright © 2019 Tutti a Tavola, LLC. Excerpted by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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SPRING 2020 7

When Everybody’s

Italian!

The Summer Saint Celebrations of Boston’s North End

BY KEVIN M. WALSH

Italians love their patron saints.

Perhaps no place outside of Italy is that love and reverence more evident than in Boston’s Italian North End neighborhood, where each summer, more than a dozen patron saints of Italy are honored in extravagant saints’ feast celebrations.

For more than a century, Italian religious and social groups in the North End have carried on the tradition of observing saints’ feast celebrations. In the narrow streets and public areas of this old-world neighborhood where

Italian is still spoken and bocce games are still played, these festive celebrations are so popular that they can attract more than 100,000 people.

Some feasts last for one day while others continue for an entire weekend.

The festivities flow through the North End streets and include parades, performers, food vendors, and arcade games. While originally formed to honor Italian religion and culture, the saints’ feasts also now raise funds for various regional and national charities.

ABOVE: The St. Anthony’s Feast attracts one of the largest crowds of all the celebrations. (Matt Conti) SPRING 2020

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This summer, there are a baker’s dozen of saints’ feasts in the North End. In most cases, these feasts began based upon similar feasts in Italy, a practice that Italian immigrants brought with them when they arrived in Boston. Some of these feast celebrations for patron saints began hundreds of years ago. Continuing the saints’ feast celebrations upon arrival in Boston was a way for the immigrants to bring a small amount of their homeland’s cultures and traditions with them as they settled into the new environment of a strange, unfamiliar city. Some of the honored saints are patrons of places in Italy where they were born, died, or performed miracles, while other saints are patrons of occupations, activities, or special groups.

Italians are said to have more patron saints than any other nationality, and the country of Italy itself has not one, but two, patron saints: St. Francis of Assisi (celebrated on October 4th) and Saint Catherine of Siena (celebrated on April 30th). Many Italian patron saints also do double duty. St. Francis of Assisi, for example, is also considered the patron saint of animals and the environment.

Feast celebrations in the North End typically involve a variety of activities, including processions through the city streets where a statue or some type of symbol of that particular saint is hoisted high for all to see. Large crowds of enthusiastic revelers roam the neighborhood streets, bands play music, and elaborate decorations cover buildings and hang from light poles. Each of the feasts includes at least one Catholic Mass, devotional activities for the saint, special forms of entertainment, food and gift vendors, and games for all ages. All of ITALIAN AMERICA

Another especially lively saint’s feast is always the late August celebration to honor St. Anthony of Padua, the largest of all the festivals. Last year, a grand, four-day feast marked the 100th anniversary of the celebration.

Peter Baldassari’s All Saints Way in the North End.

Joseph DiGirolamo, St. Anthony’s Feast Chairman for the past 18 years, said that the feast “has permitted generations of families which have settled in and around Boston to continue a celebration of their faith, culture, and heritage.” And after all, having grown up in the North End, DiGirolamo is quite familiar with this feast. “The St. Anthony Feast allows us to celebrate and honor St. Anthony, while it also emphasizes having the feelings of old world fun” where Italian traditions are honored and delicious Italian food is consumed. According to him, Boston officials estimated that about 300,000 people attended last year’s multi-day celebration.

The St. Anthony’s Feast is sponsored by a charitable association called the San Antonio Di Padova Da Montefalcione. Paul D’Amore, a North End chef and owner of Massimino’s Restaurant, is the president of this association that was formed to honor St. Anthony. For D’Amore, who was born in Padua, the feast has an extra special significance.

“Saint Anthony does so much for so many people,” D’Amore said. “So our group wants to celebrate and honor him.”

To highlight the 100th anniversary of the St. Anthony Feast last year, relics of St. Anthony were escorted to Boston by Father Alessandro Ratti, a Franciscan friar belonging to the Padua Province in the Veneto region.

“In 1995, the 800th anniversary of St. Anthony’s birth,” Fr. Ratti explained, “the Friars of St. Anthony’s Basilica started a pilgrimage of St. An-

this—aside from the Mass, of course— occurs outside amidst the aroma of simmering sausages and meatballs and other Italian foods being cooked at locations all over the parade route.

The North End Fisherman’s Society, for example, organizes the Feast of Madonna Del Soccorso di Sciacca, an event begun in 1910 and is based upon traditions that date back to the 16th century in Sciacca, Sicily. Started

by Italian fishermen, this feast centers around a religious procession in which devotees carry a Madonna statue. The procession ends with the Flight of the Angel, when a young girl dressed as an angel is seen to fly out of a third-floor window (with ample supports) down to the Madonna statue. Meanwhile, all over the procession route, crowds celebrate and express their devotion to the saint.

ITALIAN AMERICA

The Flight of the Angel during the Feast of Madonna Del Soccorso di Sciacca. (Matt Conti) SPRING 2020 9

now his life’s passion. If you drop by while he’s there, Baldassari will share with you his encyclopedic knowledge once he has learned where you are from. Baldassari notes that his saints’ shrine “draws people from all over the world.” Moments after he says this, as if to prove the point, Christian Wolf, a visitor from Germany, enters the alley.

He has come to see the saints’ historical information, which Baldassari has displayed all over the alley’s narrow passageway.

A sign in Boston’s North End that points in the direction of different Italian Cities.

(Sean Pavone)

thony’s relics so as to give his devotees around the world the opportunity of venerating their beloved saint, even if they can’t go all the way to Padua, where the tomb of St. Anthony is located.”

Fr. Ratti describes St. Anthony as “a friend in heaven to whom you can turn in times of troubles, when you need an intercessor for receiving a favor or grace from God.” Fr. Ratti was quite impressed with the North End St. Anthony Feast and the manner in which it adhered to “the keeping of genuine Italian traditions.”

“The coming together of so many people for volunteering during the feast, and the spirit of simple and sincere devotion to the saint, was truly moving,” he said.

A lesser-known but no less fervent celebration of saints in the North End occurs every day of the year on All Saints Way. Here, North End resident Peter Baldassari operates his personal shrine in an alley off of Battery Street, where he has honored saints every day of the year for the last 35 years. Baldassari has been enthralled with saints since childhood, and honoring them is SPRING 2020

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“I like things the saints have done,” Baldassari said. “Each saint has his or her own story.” As for the Italian saints, he notes that each came from a different town in Italy, and when the immigrants came here, they brought their patron saints with them.

Saints are also honored year-round inside churches, and the Italian North End neighborhood, though relatively small, supports three Catholic churches. Saint Leonard’s Church, founded on Hanover Street in 1873, was the first Roman Catholic Church built in New England. Constructed by Italian immigrants, it contains beautiful statues of several Italian saints.

Every year, people visit Boston from all over the world to take part in the Italian saints’ feasts celebrations.

As St. Anthony’s Feast Chairman Joseph DiGirolamo said, “St. Anthony’s feast is an experience that everybody should try in their lifetime. It’s when everybody is Italian for a weekend!”

Kevin Walsh is a Boston area native who enjoys taking photographs to illustrate his travel and history articles.

Special thanks to Matt Conti (North End Lodge #2996 in Boston) for the photographs used in this article. To see more, visit his website www.MattConti.com

North End Italian Feasts & Processions Summer 2020

For more information, visit www.northendboston.com June 7 Santa Maria Di Anzano Procession (Est. 1906) June (Date TBD) Saint Anthony of Padua Procession (Est. 1926) June 28 Saint Padre Pio Procession (Est. 2011) July 12 Madonna delle St. Joseph Procession Grazie Procession (Est. 1903) July 19 San Rocco Procession (Est. 1926) July 26 St. Joseph Procession (Est. 1926) July 30 – August 2 St.Agrippina di Mineo Feast August 7 – 9 Madonna Della Cava Feast (Est. 1911)

St. Lucy’s Feast

August 13 – 16 Fisherman’s Feast of the Madonna Del Soccorso di Sciacca (Est. 1910) August 27 St. Lucy’s Feast (Est. 1921) August 28 – 30 Saint Anthony’s Feast (Est. 1919) September 13 Santa Rosalia di Palermo (Est. 1939) San Gennaro Feast (Est. 2018)

Photographs Courtesy of Matt Conti.

St. Agrippina Feast ITALIAN AMERICA

BULLETIN BOARD

WHAT’S NEW: DISCOUNTS, SERVICES AND EVENTS

Attention Italian-American Writers!

Have a 2020 Festa?

Idea Press (IdeaPressusa.com) has recently published Volume One of “A Feast of Narrative, an Anthology of Short Stories and Creative Nonfiction by Italian American Writers” and is accepting submissions for Volume Two of the Anthology, which will consist of fiction short stories.

Let Us Know!

Have your 2020 festa listed on www.OSIA. org to let Order Sons & Daughters of Italy in America members and Italian America magazine readers know about it.

Submission guidelines To be able to participate in the contest, the writer has to have at least one parent of Italian origins. Only fiction short stories will be accepted; no creative nonfiction. One or two stories may be submitted. The deadline is June 1.

And if you’re promoting your lodge at a festa and would like OSDIA brochures and/or back issues of Italian America magazine to give away, please let us know!

Email: NationalOffice@osia.org

Manuscripts should be submitted in Microsoft Word, single-spaced, Times New Roman size 12-point font.

There is a maximum of 6,000 words for each story. A short author bio (maximum 150 words) should be included with the submission.

No entry fee is required. The stories chosen will become part of the anthology, and one copy of the book will be sent free of cost to each participant accepted.

The manuscripts may be sent to EditoreUSA@gmail.com

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The 2019 SIF scholarship recipients at the NELA Gala.

ITALIAN AMERICA

SPRING 2020 11

PAGINA ITALIANA

PER CHI STUDIA LA NOSTRA LINGUA

L’Uomo che assomigliava a La Russa TRANSLATED BY SERENA LONIGRO

Assomigliava a Tony La Russa. Capelli neri. Naso a punta. Mascella quadrata. Aveva i tratti tipici di un uomo dell’Italia meridionale. Dopo tutto il suo nome era Lou Massaro. Insegnava Storia americana in prima superiore al mio liceo, che era ad appena dieci minuti di autobus da casa mia.

Il Prof. Massaro indossava sempre un cappello degli Oakland Athletics, anche quando insegnava, vestito in giacca e cravatta. Era come se volesse sottolineare la sua notevole somiglianza al noto allenatore di baseball. Le uniche volte in cui l’avevo visto togliersi il cappello era durante il Giuramento di Fedelta e quando cenava al ristorante dei miei genitori.

Io lavoravo al ristorante già da prima del liceo. Servivo ai tavoli, lavavo i piatti, vedevo il Prof. Massaro ogni martedì sera, il più fiacco della settimana per noi. Entrava e si sedeva da solo. Apriva un grosso libro di storia e beveva lentamente un bicchiere di vino rosso mentre intingeva un paio di fette di pane nell’olio d’oliva. Dopo aver finito il primo bicchiere, ne ordinava un secondo, e con quello, un piatto di pollo al Marsala. Sceglieva sempre pollo al Marsala.

Dopo aver ripulito il piatto con il resto del pane, chiedeva alla cameriera di far sapere a mio padre che aveva finito di cenare. Aspettava che mio padre uscisse dalla porta della cucina con una bottiglia di grappa e due tazzine di caffè appena fatto.

Authentic • Traditional • Innovative

Si sedevano e parlavano nel dialetto di una piccola città del sud Italia dove erano cresciuti insieme. Non ho mai chiesto che cosa si dicessero, ma dal modo in cui parlavano, ridevano e a volte si addoloravano, era facile intuire che stavano rivivendo il passato.

Ci furono un paio di occasioni in cui se ne stettero in silenzio. Mio padre si alzava dalla sedia e si metteva accanto al Prof. Massaro. Lo abbracciava e gli occhi del Prof.

Massaro si riempivano di lacrime.

Io continuavo semplicemente a lavorare - fingendo di non aver visto nulla - fino a che non si faceva ora per me di tornare a casa e salutavo entrambi prima di andar via con mia madre.

Di tanto in tanto, quando salutavo, il Prof. Massaro mi chiedeva di portargli dei moduli per far domanda di lavoro. Immaginavo che fossero per i suoi parenti, forse i nipoti, ma per quanto ne sappia, mai nessuno di loro era passato a consegnare quelle applicazioni.

Ricordo vividamente il mio primo giorno di lezione col Prof. Massaro, specialmente quando distribuì un foglio di carta che aveva una linea sul fondo per la firma di un genitore. Sopra la linea c’era una dichiarazione in cui si informava che il proprio figlio o figlia stava per essere bocciato in Storia americana.

“Beh, questo non è giusto,” lamentò Britney Finley, la ragazza con le trecce rosse che sedeva un paio di file davanti a me.

“La vita non è giusta,” rispose il Prof. Massaro.

Secondo il Prof. Massaro, la sua classe non era giusta - era lavoro. Se volevi fare qualcosa di te stesso, dovevi lavorare per arrivare al livello che volevi e meritavi. “Partirete da zero,” ci disse il Prof. Massaro, “e poi salirete fino in cima dove guadagnerete il voto che desiderate. Solo allora capirete la storia di questo grande paese.”

Continua nell’edizione estiva ...

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Serena Lonigro was born and raised in Napoli. She graduated from the University of Naples “L’Orientale” with a degree in Foreign Languages and Literatures and now works in marketing and news media.

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The Man Who Looked Like LaRussa

BY MILES RYAN FISHER

He looked like Tony LaRussa. Black hair. Sharp nose.

Chiseled jaw. Features of a man from southern Italy. And after all, his name was Lou Massaro. He taught ninth grade U.S. History at my high school, which was just a ten-minute bus ride from my house.

Every so often, when I said good-bye, Mr. Massaro would ask me to bring him a few job applications before I left. I’d assumed that they were for his relatives, maybe his nieces and nephews, but as far as I knew, none of them had ever stopped by to hand in the applications that he took.

Mr. Massaro always wore an Oakland A’s hat, even when he taught in his suit and tie. It was as if he wanted to accentuate the fact that he bore a strong resemblance to the well-known baseball manager. The only times I saw him take the hat off were during the Pledge of Allegiance and whenever he ate at my parents’ restaurant.

I vividly remember my first day in Mr. Massaro’s class, especially when he handed out a sheet of paper that had a line across the bottom for a parent’s signature. Above the line was a statement explaining that their son or daughter was currently failing U.S. History class.

I was already working at the restaurant before high school. I bussed tables, I washed dishes. I’d see Mr. Massaro every Tuesday night, our slowest of the week. He’d come in and sit down by himself. He’d open up some thick book about history and slowly drink a glass of red wine while dipping a couple slices of bread into olive oil.

After he finished his first glass, he would order a second, and along with that, a plate of Chicken Marsala. Always Chicken Marsala.

After he wiped his plate clean with the remaining bread, he would ask the waitress to let my father know that he was finished with his meal. He’d wait for my father to come through the kitchen doors with a bottle of grappa and two cups of fresh coffee.

“Well this isn’t fair,” complained Britney Finley, the girl in red braids who sat a couple rows over from me.

“Life isn’t fair,” Mr. Massaro replied.

According to Mr. Massaro, his class was not fair—it was work. If you wanted to make something of yourself, you had to work your way up to the grade you wanted and deserved. “You start with nothing,” Mr. Massaro told us, “and you climb the ladder to earn the grade you want. Then you will understand the history of this great country.”

To be continued in the summer issue …

They’d sit and speak in the dialect of a small town in southern Italy where they’d grown up together. I didn’t ask what it was they were saying, though I could tell by the ways they spoke, the ways they laughed, the ways they sometimes grieved, that they were reliving the past.

There were a couple occasions when they’d go silent.

My father would get out of his chair and walk over to Mr. Massaro. He’d hug Mr. Massaro as tears filled Mr. Massaro’s eyes. I’d simply continue working—pretending not to notice—until it was time for me to go home, at which point I would say good-bye to both of them before leaving with my mother.

EXPERT ITALIAN VACATION PLANNING, CUSTOMIZED FOR YOU. myitaliandestination.com

ITALIAN AMERICA

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Il coltello da cucina con cui non posso separarmi

BY MARILYN ARSENEAU

I inherited my nonna’s kitchen knife 45 years ago—and it was old back then.

I’ve used it every day since, sometimes for hours, except for the 11 days I spent in the hospital having three kids. It’s my oldest possession, and people don’t believe me when I say if it ever breaks or goes missing, I will not be able to cook. The wire-thin blade slices veal so thin you can read through it, dissects tomatoes without losing a drop of juice, and yet cracks through the toughest bones.

It tightens screws, bangs nails, removes wallpaper, and when my curiosity gets the better of me, it can, with surgical precision (and brief steaming), open interesting-looking letters addressed to other people. I take it on vacation with me, dream about it, and seriously panic if I can’t find it.

Lately I’ve been preoccupied with mortality—the knife’s and my own. I’m firmly rooted in late middle-age; the knife is an antiquarian at best. I wonder who will outlive whom and if I should make arrangements for it in my will, although I doubt anyone would want it. My ‘foodie’ kids frequently buy me celebrity cutlery at exorbitant prices, hoping I’ll retire the ugly iron blade with the battered wooden handle. They don’t understand how holding it is like holding hands with a cherished friend. They don’t understand my satisfaction as we rip through kitchen tasks together.

But mostly, they don’t understand because they never knew Nonna.

“Nonna’s knife” that has been a close part of the life of the author, her granddaughter.

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​Nonna​ means ‘grandmother’ in Italian, and mine was the real thing. Like the nonnas one sees in movies, mine lived in the kitchen, chopping garlic, tenderizing meat with the side of a small plate, making pasta in ‘the well,’ always stirring soups and sauces. She wore sleeveless cotton house dresses year-round, was often barefoot, and wore hideous men’s eyeglasses.

She had a beautiful singing voice, adored Caruso, and hollered a lot—in Italian—at my quiet, easygoing grandfather, whom she always addressed by his surname, Araldi.

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one. The claustrophobic conditions of this kitchen didn’t help. Since they all worked in the shoe shops that fueled the Merrimack Valley of Massachusetts, most of the week’s meals were prepared on Saturday.

Jennie was a spitfire spinster who’d been engaged five times, had the rings to prove it, and argued a lot. The Union and Mayor Bevilaqua were her favorite topics. Rena was married, sweet, sensitive, and sadly childless. Prone to outbursts of long crying jags, the other two would coax her to drink olive oil “so you won’t rust.”

Still, as a kid, it cracked me up to watch their sizeable backsides bumping into each other in that pantry amid an undercurrent of muted grumbling.

I’ll never know how Nonna made such incredible meals in that peculiar workspace, but she did, and my family spent every Sunday in her dining room, happily traveling from our home some 25 miles away.

Upon arrival, my brothers and I would have our cheeks pinched and our faces pressed into Nonna’s generous bosom in a fragrant hug. She smelled like her kitchen—garlic, yeast, olive oil, parmesan … with a whiff of perspiration.

My grateful parents loved these weekly excursions because Mom couldn’t cook to save her life and became giddy just thinking of Sunday dinner. Mom’s mother was a dour, vinegary Yankee who bore a striking resemblance to Sitting Bull and viewed cooking as a necessary evil. Her kitchen smelled of boiled chicken, boiled cabbage, boiled onions, boiled coffee jello, and too many cats.

Nonna Lizzie with the Nonno Joe and their toddler son, Charlie, the author’s father.

Nonna’s kitchen had a wood-burning stove upon which fragrant pots perched. Underneath sprawled Snuffy, an odorous hunting spaniel, and Fluffy, an antique cat. The only other furnishings were a mismatched dining set and an elderly refrigerator.

Nearby was a small pantry containing a sink, cabinets, and a little gas stove. A tiny window afforded much-needed air and offered a view of the run-down but lively baseball field where my dad had spent most of his youth.

On major cooking days, Nonna was joined by her half-sister, Jennie, who lived with them, and their cousin Rena, who lived upstairs. They had been raised together in Piacenza, Italy, and their relationship wasn’t an easy ITALIAN AMERICA

Dad, an only child considered a prince by his elders, began salivating on Friday, anticipating a meal that wasn’t some version of white sauce with peas on toast.

When I turned nine, Nonna enlisted me as an assistant and soon there were four backsides bashing about in her kitchen. But the ladies loved having me on their team.

They had prayed Dad would marry a nice girl from the Old Country, but his beloved was the farthest thing from that. I must have been an object of great curiosity for them, being the first-born and only girl of the quirky union. Yet they adored my petite, fashionable mother and viewed her as an exotic flower. Astonished by her lack of cooking skills, they quietly feared for my future. They watched me, eagle-eyed, for signs of culinary interest. When they got me into the kitchen, their anxieties eased. It soon became obvious: I was one of ‘them.’

I’ll never forget my first test. After what seemed like hours of my stirring, Nonna said, “Okay, taste the risotto.”

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I said it needed more salt.

As if on cue, they burst into great peals of laughter, wiping away joyful tears with their aprons. I lapped this up and “more salt” became something of a ritual, but it always sent them into hysterics1.

Mom’s cooking improved with time, but she relied heavily upon cookbooks, classes, and instructions. She actually cut the ‘Buttered Noodles’ recipe off the Mueller’s pasta box and carefully taped it into her scrapbook of family favorites.

There were no cookbooks in Nonna’s kitchen. In fact, there were no books anywhere except for well-thumbed TV Guides, the local newspaper,​and Jennie’s impressive collection of luridly illustrated romance paperbacks.

Besides learning how to cook without recipes, I got introduced to fascinating gadgets. Gnocchi presses, cheese graters, pasta machines, ravioli wheels, cannoli tubes, olive/cherry pitters. And old knives. Butcher knives, fish knives, carving knives, chopping knives, and cheese knives.

The knife I inherited was my favorite and I knew it could be mine simply by telling Nonna I liked it. Like all good grandmothers, one only needed to admire an item and it was immediately bestowed upon you. I’m sure if I had shown an interest in her corset or dentures, she would have lovingly tucked them into the enormous food basket she sent home with us every Sunday.

Nonna Lizzie (middle) as a child surrounded by Cousin Rena (left), brother Giuseppe Barbuti, and half-sister Jennie (right), who scowled mightily in every photo, though she was quite jolly.

And so the knife became mine shortly after I married.

My visits to her table became less frequent, but she continued her dazzling cuisine. Mom still raved about Nonna’s “absolutely scrumptious​chicken cacciatore!” (Mom would find out years later that, with Snuffy’s assistance, she had been served freshly-killed rabbit. In a rare burst of solidarity, the ladies had kept this a fiercely-guarded secret, given my tenderhearted mother’s love of all things four-legged and furry.)

But we soon detected subtle changes. Nonna’s succulent bite-sized meatballs slowly grew into golf ball-sized

1

Nonna’s older brother, my Great Uncle Joe, was a sweetly odd fellow. He was married to a woman who had no intention of ever leaving Italy, so he divided his time between the two countries. By the early 1900s, Nonna and Uncle Joe’s mother had divorced one husband, married husband number two, and owned a three-tenement house in Haverhill, Massachusetts. It was a lively place filled with a revolving door of relatives, ruffians, artists, immigrants, and others. Uncle Joe lived there during his extended visits to the U.S., and he worked odd jobs when the spirit moved him, dutifully sending money back to Italy, where his parsimonious wife simply kept buying more land. He was a much-beloved family member and his annual sojourns to Haverhill were cause for much celebration. The ladies adored their ‘big brother’ and went out of their way to prepare magnificent feasts in his honor. No matter what they placed before him—be it meat, fish, fowl, soup, sauce, pasta, polenta, risotto— the ritual never changed. He would take a bite, chewing slowly as a hush settled over the table. Then, with a twinkle in his eye, he’d declare, without fail, “Needs more salt.”

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Nonna Lizzie sitting with the spaniel Snuffy and kitten Fluffy with perhaps one of her neighbors.

and then baseball-sized proportions. Her once-vibrant stuffed peppers now slumped on the platter like a group of dejected senior citizens in rain-soaked fatigues. I’ll never forget my shock when I discovered an empty jar of Ragu in a paper bag in the wastebasket. Within a few years, she would bury her sweet, patient husband and have a mild stroke. Then to everyone’s amazement—and my parents’ great relief—she happily entered a retirement home.

Plan B evolves from a story I read where the matriarch of a large family passed away. She was famous for her pies, so the family agreed that on their first Christmas without Granny, there would be a pie-baking contest in her honor. The notion caught on and winners of the annual competition add their names to a plaque which also displays Granny’s old rolling pin. The plaque is theirs to keep until the next contest.

I like to imagine my kids—all excellent cooks—adoptLooking back, maybe the knife Nonna gave me was ​her​ favorite. She would never deny me anything, but maybe ing the second plan. Envisioning Nonna’s sinister-looking surrendering that knife affected her more than anyone cutlery displayed proudly, journeying from house to house on a never-ending culinary odyssey pleases me. realized.

Maybe she couldn’t cook without it.

As I write this, it’s winter, and a ​braciole​bubbles on my woodstove, filling the house with tantalizing aromas.

My 15-year-old Australian Cattle Dog named Mick sleeps next to my bare feet as I sing along (loudly) with Pavarotti.

I inherited much more than an old knife.

So now I wrestle with two plans for the knife’s final resting place. In Plan A, I’ll be buried with it, holding it next to my heart. As mourners file past, they’ll be reminded of my scallopini, sauces, and scampi. Like an Egyptian queen, my knife will accompany me into the afterlife.

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But realistically, I’m leaning toward Plan A. Something tells me when I hook up with Nonna again, I better have that knife with me.

Marilyn Arseneau is a freelance writer and lifelong (so far) resident of New Hampshire. She enjoys writing fiction, mysteries, and personal experience pieces. Marilyn is grateful to her quirky family, friends, and townsfolk for the endless inspiration.

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BOOK REVIEWS

SPRING 2020 SELECTIONS

GEORGE WASHING MACHINE, PORTABLES & SUBMARINE RACES: My Italian-American Life

THE FIGHT ABROAD AND THE FEAR BACK HOME: Italians of the California Coast During World War II

By Michael Cutillo

By J. Michael Niotta, Ph.D.

With 22 journeys to Italy stamped in his passport, author Michael Cutillo is a true lover of ever ything Italian. But after enjoying his memoir, readers will see that not only is he a lover of everything Italian, he is everything Italian.

Aptly named, The Fight Abroad and the Fear Back Home presents the contrasting dichotomy that Italian Americans faced once the United States entered World War II. While thousands of Italian immigrant sons enlisted and fought in the U.S. Armed Forces, the federal government enacted legislation designating Italian Nationals—many of them the soldiers’ parents—as “enemy aliens.”

His memoir opens with, in true Italian fashion, a love story. His parents’ love story, a miraculous tale in which an Italian man and an ItalianAmerican woman meet in a small Italian town and love blossoms even though neither spoke the other’s language, is a wonderful step into the journey that this memoir takes its readers on. Cutillo’s father immigrates to the United States, where he and Cutillo’s mother settle in Upstate New York. It is there where Cutillo is born and raised amidst a blend of Italian and American cultures that is both entertaining and edifying.

DID YOU KNOW?

The composer of the score for The Good, the Bad and the Ugly was Rome-native, Ennio Morricone.

Cutillo’s writing gives a comical touch to his Italian and American life experiences, and he balances that well with a substantial amount of serious Italian history and culture. Perhaps the most enlightening lesson he learns on his many travels to Italy is that history can be found in the most unexpected corners of the boot. From places like Pietrelcina, where Padre Pio was born, to San Salvatore Telesino, built before Florence and graced by Saint Anselm of Aosta, even the smallest of towns can carry historical significance.

Through a dose of humor and a wealth of experience, Cutillo’s writing and the conversational tone he imparts will make you feel like you’re on a tour in which you grow to become old pals with your guide. A testament to this will be the several glasses of wine you can’t help but down— perhaps al fondo—while imbibing his tales and travels.

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In the The Fear Back Home portion, which opens the book, author J. Michael Niotta gives particular attention to the plight of Italians on the West Coast, where many of them were forced to relocate away from the coastline, some even being taken farther inland to internment camps.

Savings accounts were frozen, jobs were stripped. Boats were confiscated from Italian fisherman, fifty percent of whom were aliens. Six Italians even committed suicide upon learning they were labeled enemy aliens and forced to leave their homes. Such discrimination had a profound effect on Italian identity and, to the author’s point, steered many Italians away from their culture and language.

DID YOU KNOW? The “enemy alien” label applied to Italians during World War II was lifted by the United States Government on Columbus Day in 1942.

The book segues into the The Fight Abroad portion, which tracks soldiers’ experiences in the Air Corps, Navy, and Marines. Substantial attention is given to soldiers’ lives on bombers and battleships. Niotta offers detailed individual accounts as they occur within the context of the overall war—including the “Big Week,” in which bombers were dispatched prior to D-Day with the purpose of luring German fighters into the air and depleting the Luftwaffe. Perhaps the most striking anecdote is the one you’ll read about the pilot who insisted on buying a rosary for his mother.

In The Fight Abroad and the Fear Back Home, Niotta’s thorough research and in-depth interviews merge to create a read that is both intriguing and revealing.

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On The Bookshelf Books by and about Italian Americans

The Brooklyn kid Trilogy

By Domenick Scarlato

Fools’ Journey: The Showdown

By Nicholas A. Marziani, Jr. SEQUEL TO HOLY FOOL HOLY FATHER

FOOLS’ JOURNEY

THE SHOWDOWN

Will he ever return alive to Rome?

A Completely True Story Involving Murder, Love, Adventure, Action, Intrigue & Humor.

Domenick Scarlato, a second generation Italian American, was born and raised in the slums of Brooklyn. He was expelled from high school and joined the U.S. Navy at 16 years old. He served as a Frogman as part of the Underwater Demolition Team during WWII. After the war, he worked as a welder in the Brooklyn Navy Yard and during that time he went to evening school. While raising five daughters, he completed his H.S. diploma and went on to receive his B.S., M.A., and Doctorate. Before retirement, he worked as a high school teacher, an administrator, and an adjunct professor.

The pope leads an overland expedition to Jerusalem to confront an ancient pretender in the wake of global chaos.

NICHOLAS A. MARZIANI, JR.

Available for pre-publication order (release date, May 21, 2020)

Please direct inquiries to the book author at marniclaus@aol.com or the publisher, WC Publications, c/o On-Target Words at nancy@ontargetwords.com

BUY THE PAPERBACK at Amazon.com for only $6.99!

5 STAR REVIEWS

Walworth Street to Wall Street How an $85 a Week Clerk Became a $100 Million Investment Banker A Wall Street Memoir by Pasquale “Pat” Scida Italian America, Wall Street, and Brooklyn collide to produce The American Dream Pasquale “Pat” Scida, deeply rooted in his Calabrian ancestry, marries and takes an entry level position on Wall Street. A willingness to accept challenges and do any job to propel him forward, as the markets and the political and world events that affect them become his backyard. But the hard edges of Corporate America get in the way. His ethnicity, Brooklyn origins and his own insecurities hold him back. At home his success on Wall Street is criticized by family and friends because he’s “sold out and gone in with the da big guys,” and “nobody knows what the hell those guys on Wall Street are doing.”

Walworth Street to Wall Street is an Italian-American success story, a Brooklyn story, a family story, and an inside look at Wall Street.

Available In Paperback and Electronic Form On Amazon and Barnes & Noble ITALIAN AMERICA

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OUR STORY

ITALIAN AMERICAN HISTORY AND CULTURE

How a Trip to My Father’s Village in Sicily Inspired a Novel … That Took Ten Years to Write

BY MARCO RAFALÀ

My father grew up in the Sicilian hillside village of Melilli, in the long shadow of Mount Etna. The Melillesi cultivate orchards—olives, almonds, citrus, carob—in the rocky terrain. Prickly pears and edible greens grow wild in the hills. Below, the Gulf of Augusta meets the Ionian Sea, stretching out in endless blue. And at the heart of village tradition is soaring Saint Sebastian Church, constructed for the statue of their patron saint after it washed ashore in 1414.

I grew up in Middletown, Connecticut, where my father had brought his complicated love of Melilli with him—there in his sprawling backyard vegetable garden with stories about life in Sicily. As a boy during the Second World War, he hid with his family in caves to escape the fighting. The Allies bombed Melilli and then, when the Italians switched sides, the Germans bombed them, too.

Those events left scars beyond damaged buildings. My father’s cousins, two young siblings, were killed playing with an unexploded shell. It was the kind of loss that can break a family and community. But they did not break.

My father made Melilli sound like a magical place where saints and myths—like the monster Typhon imprisoned under Mount Etna—came to life. While there was often a vast cultural difference between my father and me, I was always fascinated with the home he missed so dearly.

When I finally visited Melilli with my father in 2001, I found far more than I imagined. We walked the winding cobblestone streets together and sat beneath the same tree

The Basilica of St. Sebastian in Melilli, Italy. (Fausto Riolo) SPRING 2020

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he slept under as a boy. He took me to the graves of his two cousins who died during the war, brief lives carved in stone.

I saw the statue of Saint Sebastian, went to the caves, walked through the almond orchard my father and my nonnu had tended. Everyone in Melilli—cousin, distant relative, neighZiu Angelo, who lives in Melilli, bor—treated me like holding an advance copy of How I’d lived there my Fires End. (Sara Faring) entire life. I was Sebastiano’s son, a son of Melilli.

After that trip, I began to write about Melilli. I wanted to honor the everyday lives and struggles of the people who left and those who stayed—and what it meant to their children. I wanted to go beyond stereotypes that can overshadow the true Italian-American experience.

As I wrote, I spoke often with my father, asking him to tell me again about the caves or how the statue came to Melilli in a shipwreck. It took me years to understand that I was writing a novel and many more to complete and finally publish it.

This summer, four months before my novel’s publication, How Fires End found its way home to Melilli. My friend and fellow author, Sara Faring, visited Sicily with an advance copy of the novel. When she offered to take photographs of my book in Melilli, I was ecstatic and arranged for her to meet my ziu Angelo. She showed him the novel, and he, in turn, gave her a tour of the village.

When Sara returned to the States, she confessed that she never got the chance to finish reading How Fires End because my ziu wouldn’t part with it. He took it with him everywhere, crying with joy and holding it high with so much pride.

Marco Rafalà (marco.rafala@gmail.com) is a first-generation Sicilian American. How Fires End is his debut novel.

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SPEAKERS BUREAU

LEARN MORE ABOUT YOUR CULTURE & HISTORY

Sons & Daughters of Italy Speakers Bureau Need a speaker for your club meeting or a special event? Contact these experts directly. Some may require travel expenses and/or honorariums. For more speakers see: www.osia.org at “Culture & History.” To apply as a speaker, contact Miles Fisher at mfisher@osia.org • CALIFORNIA Executive Director, Cofounder, and Historian of the Italian American Museum of Los Angeles Marianna Gatto speaks about ItalianAmerican history and culture, Italian Americans in the West and in Southern California. She has two decades of experience in public history, non-profit leadership, advocacy, fundraising, museums, and education, and is a published author. Book signing, lectures, and consulting work. Contact: (213) 485-8432 Email: marianna@italianhall.org Website: www.IAMLA.org and Losangeleslittleitaly.com Will also travel to: United States and Europe

• FLORIDA President/Owner of Golden Voice Production Lawrence C. Branchetti speaks about music and heritage. Nicknamed “The Golden Voice,” he carries on the musical memories of Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, and other Italian greats. In 2011, he was awarded the Miami Award by the U.S. Commerce Association for “production and his vocal ability.” He has also devoted his time to supporting fundraising events as a credit to his Italian roots. Contact: (305) 758-5081 Email: lizprod@aol.com Website: www.branchetti.com

• CALIFORNIA Author and Historian J. Michael Niotta, Ph.D. speaks about Italian-American history, particularly that surrounding World War II, including the pre- and post-Pearl Harbor enemy alien situation on the West Coast and the reasons that prevented the internment of all Italian Nationals following that of Japanese Nationals. He also talks about the overshadowing of the 2001 Review of Restrictions of Persons of Italian Heritage During WWII. He has recently published The Fight Abroad and the Fear Back Home: Italians of the California Coast During World War II. Book signing. Contact: (619) 398-7459 Email: JMNiotta@gmail.com We b s i t e :

• FLORIDA Member of the Dante Society Anthony Branco speaks on The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri. His knowledge extends back 30 years, when he first read the work, and he continues to re-read the work on a daily basis. Contact: (813) 856-7090 Email: tony9913@verizon.net

www.jmichaelniotta.com

• CALIFORNIA Author, Cantor, Playwright, and Screenwriter Mark A. Thompson speaks about his novel, Sinatra’s Tailor, the story of Umberto Autore, who was orphaned in Italy during World War II and immigrated to the U.S., where he became Frank Sinatra’s tailor. He also presents An Evening with Galileo, a one-man musical on the invention of the telescope and ensuing conflict between science and religion in 17th century Italy. Book signing.

Contact: (562) 400-2968 Email: 4markathompson@ gmail.com Website: www.markathompson.net and www.sinatrastailor.com

Will also travel to: Nationally and Internationally

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• NEW YORK Newspaper Editor and Journalist Michael Cutillo speaks about writing memoirs, being a first-generation Italian American, traveling to and in Italy (including how to set up group trips), and a variety of other Italian-related topics. He has dozens of newspaper writing awards and is a regular columnist for OSDIA Grand Lodge of New York newsletter “The Golden Lion.” He recently published a memoir entitled George Washing Machine, Portables & Submarine Races: My Italian-American Life.

Book signing. Contact: (315) 398-1351 Email: mcutillo1@rochester.rr.com • VIRGINIA Poet and Author Mike Maggio speaks about poetry and fiction as well as new publications.

He is the Northern Regional Vice-President of the Poetry Society of Virginia. He recently released a collection of short stories entitled Letters from the Inside: The Best of Mike Maggio and has also authored other books of fiction and poetry. Book signing.

Contact: (703) 930-5214 Email: mikemaggio@ mikemaggio.net Website: www.mikemaggio.net SPRING 2020 21

And the Perfect Memory in Calabria

BY MILES RYAN FISHER

It was our first Christmas together and as she opened her gift, her eyes grew wide. She opened a box to see several aluminum containers of olive oil. Then she removed the picture of her name—EVELYN—written in black marker on a tag that hung from an olive tree. She unfolded the accompanying letter, which explained to her that, deep in Calabria, there stood an olive tree more than a century old that now bore her name. The containers of olive oil came from the olives that grew in her adopted tree’s grove. For one year, this tree would be her tree.

A nature-lover to her core, Evelyn smiled her way through reading the letter as I stood there waiting for her final reaction to a gift I knew I’d nailed. She looked up from the letter.

“You know what this means,” she said.

“What?” I asked.

“We have to go visit my tree.”

The moment she said that, I knew SPRING 2020

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exactly where I would one day propose to her. After all, Italy was where we’d met just four months before on an August night in Rome in 2017.

On that August night, my friend and I entered an Irish bar named Scholars, located a block away from Piazza Venezia. We began tasting various types of the Irish whiskey, our salute to a long day of touring the Eternal City. It was day three of our eight-day trip that consisted of four days in Rome and four in Sorrento. As we bantered with the Irish bartender, we found out that Sunday nights were for karaoke, something that interested neither of us. At 10:30 p.m., the stage opened to the singers.

The first singer, a slightly stout older man wearing slacks and suspenders, shuffled on the stage and kicked off karaoke night in courageous fashion by crooning some Sinatra. After him, another singer took the stage, followed by another. Then the fourth singer ITALIAN AMERICA

(leonori)`

A summertime view from Santa Maria dell’Isola Monastery of Tropea’s beach and cliffs.

stepped on stage, and the moment I saw her, I knew I needed to know her. But once the music started and she offered patrons a sweet, honey-like rendition of Dolly Parton’s “Jolene,” I realized that there were other guys who wanted to know her, too.

After she sang the song’s final notes, I maneuvered my way across the bar’s crowded floor and introduced myself to her. I told her that my friend and I were visiting from the United States and then found out that she and her friend were visiting from Aachen, a mid-sized city in northwest Germany. Once we’d started talking, we didn’t stop. Our conversation took hold over the rest of the night and even led us into some open space onto the barroom floor once the older man shuffled back onstage to offer a reprisal of Ol’ Blue Eyes. We danced and drank and lost ourselves in conversation until the bar closed. Afterward, we walked to Piazza Barberini and then up Via Veneto, where we sat down across from Villa Borghese.

There, we continued talking through the night until the sun began to rise above the gardens.

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The following evening, my last night in Rome before my friend and I were to leave for Sorrento, I stood at the base of the Spanish Steps, anxiously awaiting Evelyn for what would be our first date. That night, we led our friends on a passeggiata through Rome, stopping in Piazza Navona for cocktails and ending by the Tiber River for gelato. That was where we parted. She returned to Germany, and I returned stateside.

But the distance didn’t keep us apart. We messaged each other every day, and soon we arranged our first video chat—a call that lasted four hours. Three months after we’d met in Rome, we rendezvoused in Paris.

Then Evelyn came to visit me for the first time in Washington, D.C., landing two days after Christmas and opening her gift to see her olive tree in Calabria. One year—and one Evelyn olive tree re-adoption—later, I began to look for an engagement ring. It didn’t take long for me to find the right one, a brilliant deep blue sapphire between diamond trillions set in a platinum band.

We began planning our trip to meet her olive tree that spring. We’d each fly into Naples, pick up our car rental, and spend a few days in Pompeii before driving five hours south to Tropea, a seaside Calabrian town with mesmerizing cliffs and a postcardworthy monastery perched alone on a bluff. From there, we would make a day trip to Feroleto Antico, the rural Calabrian town about an hour

(PhotoRR)

Originally built on what was an island in the 4th century, Tropea’s Santa Maria dell’Isola Monastery has been rebuilt many times, going through several incarnations.

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In April 2019, a year and a half after we’d met on that August night in Rome, we met once again in Italy— this time in Naples. We spent the first days of our trip in Pompeii, touring two thousand-year-old ruins. Then we drove south along the coast of the Tyrrhenian Sea, starting in Campania, passing through a short stretch of Basilicata, and reaching the Calabrian town of Tropea.

The path into the Melia Grove, TRE Olive’s oldest olive grove with trees more than a century old.

northeast of Tropea where Evelyn’s tree stood.

I’d contacted Joe Maruca, one of three partners who own and operate TRE Olive, the family-owned company that opened its first olive mill in 1934 and offers olive trees for adoption. I asked him for specific directions to the Melia Grove, the oldest of TRE Olive’s groves, rich with olive trees born long before our own great-grandparents. Then I let him in on my secret: We weren’t just visiting Evelyn’s olive tree … I was going to propose to her there.

Although about 50 visitors meet their adopted olive trees every year, TRE Olive had never had an actual marriage proposal at one of their trees. Thrilled, Joe sent us directions to their mill, where we would meet Diego, another of the three owners, who oversees the olive groves and could guide us to Evelyn’s tree. Then Joe went a step further for the special occasion. He contacted a personal friend who owns a Prosecco vineyard in northern Italy and asked him to send a bottle of Prosecco “Venti22due”—the same bottle sent to the Italian Embassy in the United States—so that Diego could present it to us once the moment unfolded.

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As Evelyn and I were planning our trip, she began to research the possibility of finding work in the United States so that we could be together. It wasn’t long before she grew discouraged at just how difficult it would be for her to find a job.

“I hope you have a Plan B,” she told me.

“I don’t just have a Plan B,” I said.

“I have a Plan A.” When she asked what I meant, I wouldn’t tell her. All I said was, “Just wait. You’ll see.” Part of me wondered if I’d given away the surprise.

On the morning of our second day in Tropea, while Evelyn was preparing for our day trip to the olive grove, I snuck the sapphire ring out of my luggage and slipped it into my jeans pocket. We packed a full picnic into my backpack and then made the drive over bumpy country roads to Feroleto Antico. We arrived at the mill where TRE Olive pressed its olives to see several pallets of aluminum containers, the kind we’d received full of fresh olive oil.

We met Diego and followed him along some dirt roads that weaved through the olive groves until he parked by an indistinct entrance to the Melia Grove. He opened the gate, and we followed him down a path that

The field dogs that came to visit and land some snacks.

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“And how you told me that you hoped I had a Plan B, and I told you, ‘I don’t have a Plan B, I have a Plan A,’?”

She nodded.

I slid my hand into my jeans pocket, feeling for the engagement ring.

“Well,” I said, “are you ready for Plan A?” I took the dark blue sapphire from my pocket.

Evelyn showing off her engagement ring.

led us straight to Evelyn’s olive tree.

The moment we saw her, we took in just how wondrous she looked in real life—with two separate trunks whose olive branches overlapped to make her appear as one full, abundant tree.

Evelyn and I walked up to her and ran our fingers over her 100-yearold bark. Evelyn was elated in that moment as I stood there, my hands clammy, my stomach knotted.

“You know how you’ve been so worried about finding a job so we can be together?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Will you marry me?” I asked.

Evelyn started to shake as she said, Yes. I steadied her hand, slid the ring on her finger, and kissed her.

Diego pulled the bottle of Prosecco out of his bag and handed it to us along with a couple of glasses. He took a few pictures for us and then headed back to the mill, telling us to simply close the open gate when we left.

Evelyn and I settled beneath her olive tree and took our picnic out of my backpack. The goat cheese, the sun-dried tomato spread, the jar of olives, loaf of bread, and of course, olive oil. As we began eating, four field dogs appeared. They cautiously approached

us, and once they were within reach, we tossed them a few pieces of our picnic food. Before long, they were lying beside us getting their bellies scratched. One even snuck behind our tree and, in one brazen move, grabbed hold of my backpack—still with food inside, including a package of salami— and attempted to drag it away.

As we sat there, a newly engaged couple, picnic and prosecco beside us, field dogs among us, I could tell that this moment in Calabria was Evelyn’s perfect memory.

Then she looked at me and asked the same question that she’d asked when she originally opened the Christmas gift that was her olive tree.

“You know what this means, right?”

“What?” I asked.

“We have to come back to visit my tree.”

Which meant that I’d have to readopt Evelyn’s olive tree every year for what will turn into the rest of our lives.

Miles Ryan Fisher (mfisher@osia.org) is the Editor-in-Chief of Italian America magazine.

Adopt an Olive Tree

for one year from our groves in Calabria, Italy and we will send you the extra virgin olive oil from your tree after harvest.

You will also receive photos of your tree, an adoption certificate and your tree is tagged with your name for the year!

The Perfect Italian Gift!

ITALIAN AMERICA

www.treolive.com 413-224-2031

Evelyn and Miles standing in front of her olive tree.

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OSDIA NATION

OSDIA LODGES AT WORK

NEBRASKA On February 13, 2020, the Cristoforo Colombo Lodge #1419 of Omaha opened its doors for the first time in over three years. After being destroyed in a fire on January 13, 2017, the Cristoforo Colombo Lodge received an outpouring of support from the local community and Order Sons & Daughters of Italy in America members across the country. Their arduous journey toward rebuilding the lodge culminated 37 months—to the day—after the devastating fire happened.

Though the day of its re-opening was frigid with wind chills below zero degrees, 625 people braved the elements to get their spaghetti and meatballs for lunch, something that had been a Thursday afternoon tradition at the Cristoforo Colombo

Lodge. Three local television stations covered the grand re-opening.

The lodge, which is located at 1238 S. 10th Street, will continue to be open on Thursday afternoons for their traditional spaghetti and meatballs lunch as well as on Friday evenings for dinner. Stop by, say hi, and of course, eat some pasta!

A crowd enjoys the resumed Thursday lunch tradition of spaghetti and meatballs. In the background is a mural that was donated by Chuck Caniglia’s longtime Italian restaurant family and was saved from the fire.

The lodge, which was rebuilt with a larger seating area, also boasts an impressive stainless steel kitchen and lacquered bar.

The rebuilt Cristoforo Colombo Lodge #1419, three years after it was destroyed in a fire.

FLORIDA Last February, the Osceola County Lodge #2523 of Kissimmee held their 2nd Annual Cinderella Closet at Falcon’s Fire Country Club. The event donates prom dresses to young ladies who cannot afford to purchase a dress.

It also raises money for scholarships.

This year’s Cinderella Closet doubled in size, resulting in a donation of 120 dresses to local high schools and the raising of over $6,000.

As with any successful event, there were many key supporters. The Osceola County Lodge and the Cinderella Closet organizer, Past State President Carolyn Cianciotta, would like to thank OSDIA National Financial Secretary Tony and Linda Anderson from Tacoma, Washington; OSDIA National Future Good of the Order Committee Member John BonavenSPRING 2020

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tura from Rhode Island; and OSDIA National Membership Co-Chair and State Orator Dr. Mark DeNunzio.

#2441 of Deltona; La Nuova Sicilia Unita Lodge #1251 of Tampa; and Nature Coast Lodge #2502 of Spring Hill.

The local lodges that participated in the event were Palm Bay Lodge #2823; Sons and Daughters of Italy Lodge

Join us for next year’s Cinderella Event, scheduled for Sunday, March 14, 2021!

Cinderella Closet event organizer Carolyn Cianciotta (center) with several other belle donne who are modeling the prom dresses.

ITALIAN AMERICA

MAKING A DIFFERENCE

OHIO On October 11, 2019, the John Pirelli Lodge #1633 of Dayton commemorated the 100th anniversary of its namesake’s sacrifice with a wreath laying ceremony at the National Museum of the U.S. Air Force’s Memorial Park.

Many dignitaries were in attendance, including Col. Edi Turco, Air Force Attaché, Italian Embassy, Washington D.C.; David Tillotson III, Director, National Museum of the United States Air Force; Jim Butler, State of Ohio Representative, District 41; Col. Arthur Ford, Air Force Security Assistance and Cooperation (AFSAC) Directorate and Senior Materiel Leader for Italy; Col. Thomas Sherman, 88 ABW Commander; Maureen Kline, Head of Public Affairs, Pirelli North America, Inc.; Father Mancini, Chaplain Grand Lodge of Ohio; and Terry and Sue Lattavo, OSDIA Grand Lodge of Ohio.

The Wright-Patterson Air Force Base (WPAFB) Honor Guard presented the colors and the WPAFB Band of Flight played “Taps.” Lodge member John Belluardo performed a commemorative flyover. Representative Butler presented the John Pirelli Lodge with a proclamation recogniz-

The Wright-Patterson Air Force Base Band of Flight Trumpeter plays “Taps”.

Last fall, the Grand Lodge of Connecticut held its 3rd Annual Columbus Luncheon, attracting a packed house of over 300 people. At the annual event, the Grand Lodge recognizes the accomplishments of one member from every local lodge in the state.

Each individual is presented with a Meritorious Award for the countless hours each contributed to his or her respective lodge’s activities. Congratulations to all of the 2019 honorees!

ing the lodge’s tradition of excellence and dedication to service and achievement. The ceremony concluded with a Columbus Day dinner at the lodge.

“We come together tonight to break bread and honor the memory of two great Italians,” said Lodge President Jim Balsamo in his welcome speech that evening. “Christopher Columbus and Giovanni Pirelli were both pioneers. Men of vision; one seeking new trade routes through unknown seas, the other seeking new horizons in the relatively new human capability of flight. Yet tonight is really a celebration of all Italian men and women who have excelled in their vision, courage, and determination over the centuries in all forms of human endeavor.”

The wreath laying ceremony at the National Museum of the U.S. Air Force’s Memorial Park.

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CONNECTICUT

Front Row (L. to R): Janet Mast r a c c h i o ( Wa t e r b u r y L o d g e #2878), Richard Aitro (Greater New Haven Lodge #37), Jeanne Barrio (Concordia Lodge #20), Immaculate “Mackie” Desimini (Grace Nesci Lodge #1826), George Grover (Pietro Micca Lodge #744).

Back Row (L. to R.): Anthony Naccarato (Grand Lodge of New York State President), Aniello “Tony” Crescenzo (Ella T. Grasso Lodge #2538), Terry Crescimanno (Angelo Tomasso Sr. Lodge #2165), Neil Velleca Jr. (Good Citizen Award Winner and Grand Lodge of Connecticut Immediate Past President); Donna Diglio Casciello (North Haven Lodge #2805), Dan Onofrio (Grand Lodge of Connecticut State President).

Not Pictured: Rocco Gerard Perna (Amerigo Vespucci Lodge #160), Andrea Guerra (Valley Regional Lodge #151).

SPRING 2020 27

BY DEBORAH RUBIN FIELDS

U

ntil Mount Vesuvius put a stop to eating—and everything else—Pompeii and Herculaneum victims ate well. But how is it possible to make a statement like this about people who lived almost two thousand years ago? The archaeological discoveries from both Pompeii and Herculaneum (today called Ercolano) provide us with a fascinating window to their past gastronomy and healthy dietary habits.

While Vesuvius destroyed life, it preserved both what was to be eaten and what had been eaten. From the uncovered carbonized foods, as well as from salvaged artwork, we have discovered that Pompeii residents commonly ate grains and breads, beans, lentils, nuts, olives, figs, plums, grapes, poppy seeds, eggs, cheeses, fish, chicken, ham, and other meats.

The beans and lentils they consumed were satisfying.

Today we know that even a small portion of these legumes meets one’s daily protein needs. Because legumes contain lots of fiber, they promote regularity and prevent constipation. Not only do legumes make one feel “full,” some claim legumes even help in weight loss. Relatively speaking, they are low in calories and high in nutrients. They are good for the heart as they lower cholesterol, triglycerides, and blood pressure levels. They also reduce inflammation.

Above: Still life fresco of figs in a bowl. (Isogood_patrick) SPRING 2020

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While their almonds, walnuts, hazelnuts, and pine nuts were high in calories, in small quantities they probably aided heart function. Today, some consider these nuts important to good cardiac health, as they apparently lower the low-density “bad” (LDL) cholesterol levels. LDL plays a major role in the buildup of plaque in the blood vessels. Moreover, it is likely both the nuts and the fish these Romans ate contained omega-3s which is said to prevent dangerous heart rhythms that can lead to heart attacks.

There were also specialty dishes—like libum, garum, and savillum—that the inhabitants ate regularly. Libum, for example, was a classic Pompeii dish consisting of a pastry shell or bread topped with soft cheese and bay leaves, perhaps similar to today’s famous Napoli pizza. To make the pungent sauce garum, cooks fermented fish entrails (roe and sardines, for example). Savillum, a baked cream dish comparable to custard, was a popular dessert. Honey, figs, peaches, sugar, and cumin were some of the other ingredients typically used in making desserts.

Speaking of fruit, the figs and plums Pompeiians ate were both a diuretic and a laxative. And while Pompeiians consumed an abundance of fruit and vegetables, they ate very little sugar. Although they didn’t use toothbrushes or toothpaste, dental studies on the deceased show that few of them had cavities.

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Pompeiians also consumed shrubs and bushes, such as the prickly bramble shrub and flowering broom bush. Today we know that the fruits of the bramble offer numerous health benefits, from their fiber-rich, heart-healthy pectin to the disease-fighting antioxidants in their deeply colored pigments. Bramble leaves can be dried and used as a tea substitute. Young shoots may be added to salads. Its leaves and roots have been used to treat diarrhea, dysentery, and cystitis, and can be made into a gargle for sore throats, mouth ulcers, and other sores.

Fishing was also an important source of food for Pompeiians, and fishermen worked on the Sarno River and the Bay of Naples with nets and circle hooks. In addition to fish, meats were consumed, though in much smaller portions. Surprisingly, today’s world renowned Italian meat, prosciutto, was produced in ancient Pompeii.

With all the physical work they had to do, the slaves were kept on a high-energy diet of bread, dried-fruits, and low-quality cheese and wine. The upper classes enjoyed the same foods as the middle class, but the quantities they consumed were larger and the ingredients were seemingly of better quality. The wealthy also feasted on rare and exotic foods, including various species of birds, such as parrot meat and swallow tongue.

Wheat grew well in the fertile soil surrounding the volcano. More importantly, the wheat grew without modern pesticides and was not ground into refined flour or bleached flour. Therefore, the resulting bread was whole grain and high in many nutrients—including fiber,

A brick bread oven and a flour mill at a bakery in Pompeii. (Ptarmigan) ITALIAN AMERICA

Flour mills in the ruins of Pompeii. (Peeradontax) B vitamins, magnesium, iron, phosphorus, manganese, and selenium. Bread became a staple because it was both plentiful and versatile.

Not surprisingly then, bakeries were quite popular and widespread. About 35 have been found in Pompeii, each supplying their local area. Bread-selling took place either directly at a bakery window or by delivery. The loaf was round and plump, like a cake, and bakers scored the dough with a double cross to form eight wedges. Reportedly, at the Popidius Priscus bakery, halfway through the baking, they removed the loaves from the oven and moistened the bread surface to create a fragrant and shiny crust.

According to University of Cincinnati Classics Professor Steven Ellis, archeologists studied an area of Pompeii

Still life fresco of bread with garlic on the shelf.

(Deborah Rubin Fields)

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In most of the household kitchens excavated in Pompeii, the only permanent feature left is a masonry hearth with a tiled top and arched recesses at the bottom for storing fuel. Cooking was done on this open hearth, with pots set on iron tripods over burning charcoal or wood.

Some houses also boasted a small oven, much like a modern wood fired pizza oven, at the corner of the bench, with a vent near the stove for the smoke to escape. The only other furnishings in the Pompeiian kitchen were a basin to hold water for cooking and washing up, and sometimes supports for tables to prepare the food.

Thermopolium has been commonly assumed by some researchers to be like a fast food center, seen at both Pompeii and Herculaneum. (Deborah Rubin Fields) area that covered ten separate building plots and a total of 20 shop fronts, most of which served food and drink.

They examined mineralized and charred food waste that came from kitchens, drains, and ten latrines and cesspits.

Among the discoveries in the drains was an abundance of foods, especially grains. Findings revealed inexpensive and widely available foods, as well as minimal cuts of more expensive meat and salted fish from Spain. Waste from neighboring drains, however, showed less food variety, thus indicating socioeconomic differences between neighbors.

Perhaps most surprising is that Pompeiians generally ate out rather than at home. Along the main roads, people could buy hot and cold food at food shops called thermopolium. These shops consisted of an L-shaped masonry counter, equipped with large terracotta vessels.

While the inhabitants of Pompeii and Herculaneum followed a healthy diet, did they know they were eating healthy? It’s hard to say. True, their food choices were wholesome choices, but they were made at a time when no nutritionists, dieticians, or physiologists were guiding them. It would seem that two factors drove what people ate. First, fresh food was easily obtainable, as this was long before refrigeration existed. Second, one’s socioeconomic position helped contribute to how healthy they ate.

We can’t bring back the dead, but in the case of Pompeii and Herculaneum, the dead live on. Vesuvius’s wrath inadvertently preserved us lots of information about how residents maintained themselves on a diet heavy on grains, nuts, legumes, fruits, and vegetables. For either economic or accessibility reasons, this reliance on food categories other than meat—in other words, a vegetarian-leaning diet—kept these Romans going strong until the volcano brought about their last supper.

Deborah Rubin Fields (drubinfields@gmail.com) is a features writer from Jerusalem, Israel. She lives in a country so steeped in history that she has even found fossils while walking her dog around the neighborhood.

Dough was prepared in an area separate from the bakery. Interestingly, even back in antiquity, Roman bread was not always handmade. Special kneading machines existed. In Popidius Priscus’s bakery, archeologists discovered an industrial size bread making machine. Reportedly, bakers used large paddles to mix the dough. Dough was wound around a horizontal shaft in the bottom of a basin. Wooden slats attached to the basin’s sides then pressed the dough. The only step actually done by hand was the shaping and stamping with the mark of the bakery.

When catastrophe struck, the Modesto bakery had over 80 fresh loaves ready for sale, indicating a high demand for daily bread. One salvaged bread from Herculaneum even shows the baker’s stamp. His name was “Celer, slave of Quintus Granius Verus.”

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A flour mill and oven at Popidius Priscus’s bakery.

(Deborah Rubin Fields)

ITALIAN AMERICA

FROM THE NATIONAL

WHAT NATIONAL DOES FOR YOU

From the President’s Desk

By Nancy DiFiore Quinn

First, let me address what is going on in our world right now. Life as we know it has been turned upside down and inside out. The coronavirus is wreaking havoc across the globe, and we must continue to follow all the recommendations put forth by the President of the United States.

Stay aware of the latest information on the COVD-19 outbreak. Whatever we need to do to contain this pandemic is important to our family, friends, neighbors, and those all around the world. By the time this edition of the magazine arrives in your mailbox, I am not sure where we will be with the situation, but I pray that things will get better, and I pray for our beloved Italy.

At the present time, our wonderful office staff in Washington, D.C., is working from home and making sure that we keep OSDIA on the move. We are discussing changing the date of some upcoming events, and we will keep you informed as best we can of any changes.

The SIF Foundation announced the 2020 National Education and Leadership Awards Gala that was to be held on Friday, May 22, 2020, at the Hilton McClean Tysons Corner has now been moved to Friday, August 28, 2020. This event is our premier affair where we present at least ten substantial scholarships to undergraduate and graduate students of Italian descent for excellent academic performance, leadership, and civic service.

On February 16, 2020, we completed a very successful and instructive Plenary Session at the Grand Hyatt Regency Hotel in Orlando, Florida. This was my first session as National President, and I was so pleased with the amount of work we accomplished in just a few days.

Our agenda was filled with important issues, such as how to increase membership and how to retain the membership we already have. Chairman of our Membership Committee, Dr. Mark DeNunzio, did a wonderful job along with his committee, searching every area possible to increase membership for the Order Sons and Daughters of Italy in America. Please make every effort to bring a new member or two into our OSDIA during this important 2020 year. Just imagine how our beloved Order would increase if just half of our members followed through on this.

We also delved into the issue of “Saving Columbus Day” and the protection of our Columbus statues. The defacement of public property has become a real problem in today’s world. National CSJ President Robert Ferrito and his committee are doing a great job dealing with all the Columbus issues as well as fighting all bias and bigotry of Italians and Italian Americans.

The next plenary meeting will hopefully be held in Chicago at the Hyatt Regency O’Hare from August 12 to 16. For those of you who are in the area, please stop by and see how we are doing!

The Grand Lodge of New York’s (GLNY) Annual Charity Ball, where OSDIA National President Nancy DiFiore Quinn was one of four honorees and OSDIA National Recording Secretary Philip Privitera presented a $5,000 donation on behalf of the Privitera Family Charitable Foundation.

(L. to R.) OSDIA COO Joseph DiTrapani, GLNY State President Anthony Naccarato, Privitera, Quinn, and GLNY Office Manager Carol DiTrapani.

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THE SONS OF ITALY FOUNDATION ®

HELPING THOSE IN NEED

The Foundation Focus

By Joseph Sciame, President

The times of COVID-19 have upended our lives and any plans we’ve made. Nevertheless, safety is our foremost concern, and with that in mind, we have decided to postpone our 32nd National Education & Leadership Awards (NELA) Gala until next year.

We are disappointed that this year it is not possible for us to hold our marquee event, but we look forward to our annual celebration of Italian heritage continuing in 2021.

In spite of these trying times, the Sons of Italy Foundation has already managed to raise spirits this year. Recently, we donated a modified minivan through Help Our Military Heroes to USArmy Col Philip Lee Swinford (ret.). This is our sixth donation in seven years! Because Col Swinford’s need for a minivan was so urgent, it was presented to him without ceremony. Be on the lookout for a future article in Italian America magazine, as we arrange to spend a day with him and his family in order to experience just how much this donation has changed his life.

Our Direct Mail Program continues to be a great source of fundraising for us. With over 100,000 mailings of various Italian heritage-related items—from tote bags featuring the Spanish Steps in Rome to calendars displaying the beauty of Italy’s regions—we are able to generate funds that are crucial in making donations such as the

aforementioned minivan as well as our upcoming annual scholarships to college students.

Just imagine if every mailing recipient gave $10. That would give us over one million dollars to distribute in the name of our Italian heritage! Let me also remind you that only those who have donated to the Sons of Italy Foundation in the past year receive the mail items. If you have not donated in the past year, please visit www.osia.org/sif and do so to get on the list!

Lastly, I would like to recognize the remarkable efforts of one of our past honorees: Dr. Anthony S. Fauci. As Director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases (NIAID) of the National Institute of Health (NIH) for the past 36 years, Dr. Fauci has been on the front lines of the fight against numerous diseases ranging from HIV to Ebola. Now, he is again on the front lines fighting the coronavirus.

We are proud to have honored him at two of our NELA Galas—the only person who has been honored more than once. And we are proud that he carries an Italian name and our heritage to the front lines of the fight against this deadly virus.

Sempre Avanti, Dr. Fauci!

Bravissimo, Dr. Fauci!

The Sons of Italy Foundation is proud to have honored Dr. Anthony Fauci at the 1992 NELA Gala and the 2015 NELA Gala.

He has also attended the NELA Gala on a number of other occasions. Here is a look at Dr. Fauci at some of our past galas …

Dr. Fauci accepts the Special Recognition Award for Science and Medicine at the 2015 NELA.

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With General Colin Powell and his wife, Alma, at the 2013 NELA.

Alongside fellow honoree, the 38th U.S. Army Chief of Staff General Raymond T. Odierno, and his wife, Linda, at the 2015 NELA.

With Elizabeth Gaccione, the 2013 Henry F. Salvatori Memorial Scholarship Recipient.

With honoree Tommy LaSorda at the 1997 NELA.

With AIDS Researcher Dr. Robert Gallo and Fiona Love, the 2010 The Justice Frank J. Montemuro, Jr. Scholarship Recipient.

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THE COMMISSION FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE ®

FIGHTING DEFAMATION

The CSJ Perspective

By Robert M. Ferrito, President

I hope that everyone is staying safe and taking the necessary precautions against COVID-19. As you can imagine, the Columbus Day onslaught has come to screeching halt, as everything is at a standstill at this time. The start of this year was even worse than what we’ve experienced in the past. Several states—Colorado, Nebraska, Maryland, Arizona, and Virginia—introduced legislation to replace our Columbus Day.

looking to partner with other organizations to hire attorneys who can help us use this ruling against Colorado and any other states that replace Columbus Day.

We did write the legislators in Virginia and Maryland and they did not bring it to a vote—both were tabled.

Meanwhile, Colorado replaced Columbus Day by changing it not to Indigenous People’s Day, but to Mother Cabrini Day. While we are in complete support of recognizing Mother Cabrini for the remarkable life she led, we do not support using this to replace Columbus Day. This was a move on Colorado’s part to appease the ItalianAmerican community while supporting the movement of the indigenous people, and we must stand firmly against it. We will not be placated!

Recently, Chicago Public Schools replaced Columbus Day without notice—giving no opportunity for Chicago’s large Italian-American population to voice their opposition. We will be exploring more legal avenues to address this issue of school boards replacing Columbus Day.

In response to Colorado’s legislation—and any future state legislation that is signed into law—legal action must be taken against the state. We have already informed states threatening to replace Columbus Day that Italian Americans were declared a protected minority by Federal Judge Constance Motley Baker in a lawsuit brought against the City University of New York (Scelsa v. CUNY). We are

While this legal route will certainly be the most forceful approach we can take, it also requires a substantial amount of funding. The winter edition of the magazine brought in a good amount of donations to help us Save Columbus Day, but in going the legal route, we will need additional funding. Your support is appreciated. Please consider using the donation slip below!

Columbus Day is our ethnic holiday. I ask all our State Presidents to please contact National CSJ when an issue arises regarding Columbus Day or any issue against our ItalianAmerican communities. National CSJ is there for you.

As we assemble a strong legal team and mobilize, please be a part of this effort by contributing. This will be the most powerful action that can be taken to preserve Columbus Day, and our organization is the one who will lead the way!

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Corrections for Winter 2020 issue “Lipstick and Steel-toed Boots” Feature (page 22, caption) Pascagoula is located in Mississippi, not in Missouri.

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Italian America®

Italian America Magazine is produced by the national headquarters of the Order Sons & Daughters of Italy in America®, 219 E Street NE, Washington, DC 20002.

Tel: 202/547-2900.

Email: nationaloffice@osia.org Chief Operating Officer Joseph J. DiTrapani Editor-in-Chief Miles Ryan Fisher Director of Finance Adam Jacobs Program Director Emily Knoche Managing Director Justin Smith Italian America® is the official publication of the Order Sons & Daughters of Italy in America® (OSDIA), the largest and longest-established organization of American men and women of Italian heritage. Italian America provides timely information about OSDIA, while reporting on individuals, institutions, issues, and events of current or historical significance in the Italian-American community nationwide.

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BY MILES RYAN FISHER EDITOR-IN-CHIEF, ITALIAN AMERICA MAGAZINE

My grandmother had all her father’s affairs in order.

She’d helped him get a passport, booked him a plane ticket, and contacted relatives in Italy—the country he’d left by himself with nothing more than a suitcase when he was just 16 years old. Now it was 1967 and he was 70 years old, making his first trip back to L’Aquila, the town where he was raised. The very day he was to leave, he told my grandmother that he wasn’t going. Perhaps it was because the land he’d come from felt so foreign to him now, or maybe he was nervous about flying or reuniting with relatives he wouldn’t recognize. Whatever the reason, my great-grandfather was firm about it. He was never going to return.

My grandmother and grandfather—who were both born in Ithaca, New York—never traveled to Italy, either. It wasn’t until their daughter—my mother—went to Venice, Florence, and Rome on her honeymoon that someone in our family returned to the land we’d come from.

Forty-seven years after my parents’ honeymoon, I met my future wife, Evelyn, in Rome and then proposed to her in Calabria two years later.

Of course, my travels to Italy don’t carry the gravity that my greatgrandfather felt in preparation for the trip he didn’t take. I’m not returning to the land where I was born—I’m returning to the land where he was born. That’s significant to me. After all, he was the only great-grandparent who held me as a baby. But with each new generation, the distance between them and our ancestors who came from Italy will continue to widen.

But now, having met my wife in Rome and, more so, having proposed to her at her olive tree that we’ll keep for the rest of our lives, I’ve created a new connection to Italy that our future children will always have and hold close. One day, we’ll take them to their mom’s olive tree, and they’ll get to stand in the same spot where their dad proposed and their mom said yes. They’ll be able to see their mom’s name still on that tree, which will become a symbol not just of their parents’ love, but also of their own existence.

Maybe one day, our children will take their own children there, who will, in turn, take their own children there. Maybe one day, our greatgrandchildren will stand at Evelyn’s olive tree and hear the words: “This is where your great-grandfather proposed to your great-grandmother.”

And when that day comes, our great-grandchildren will feel a connection to Italy that goes back much further than Evelyn and me.

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PIACERE! PLEASED TO MEET YOU, LEONARD

Leonard Riggio Leonard Riggio is the Founder and Chairman of Barnes & Noble, Inc. After first founding the Student Book Exchange in 1965, he acquired the only Barnes & Noble bookstore, located in New York City, in 1971. He then expanded the Barnes & Noble name by acquiring hundreds of bookstores and rebranding the bookstore concept to incorporate coffee shops and reading spaces. He also founded Barnes & Noble College Booksellers and GameStop, one of the largest videogame retailers.

Leonard is highly recognized for his efforts to promote equality, having received the Anti-Defamation League’s highest award—the Americanism Award—in 2000 and supported the construction of hundreds of houses in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina.

Tell us about your Italian background. Who are your ancestors that immigrated to the United States and when did they arrive? Where in Italy did they come from?

My father’s parents were from Sicily. They came to America in 1910. My mother’s parents were born in America; their parents were born in Naples. From my childhood to their passing, I dearly loved and admired my grandparents. I still think of them often.

Your father was a professional boxer turned cab driver. Tell us what he taught you about life and hard work.

My father, Steve, was my lifelong mentor. He taught me to work hard and long at everything I did, be it serious work or recreational activities. He believed all-out effort and diligent practice were the keys to success.

You are known for taking the bookstore business from an elitist environment and making it a recreational setting. How do you feel this transition has affected literature itself?

As a young man, I was very observant, and I respected and liked nearly everyone I met. Early on in my career,

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I was fond of saying, “There is a touch of poetry in every human being.” This observation became my mantra when I opened huge bookstores in working- and middle-class locations. Our stores would be for aspirants—not just the already arrived. They changed the face of bookselling forever.

You have been ver y supportive of Italian-American writers, having invited many to walk in the 2017 New York City Columbus Day Parade, for which you ser ved as Grand Marshal. If one of those writers were to build a character based on one of your family members, who would it be and why?

My mother was as kind and generous a person as I’ve ever known. For all of the terrible stereotypes of the Italian people in popular movies, the way in which our women were treated was the most offensive to me. Perhaps if they had known my mom, Lena, things would be a lot different.

What has compelled you to be not just a supporter of equality, but also an active participant in making it happen?

All people are born and die as equals. There is no acceptable hierarchy of human beings. Civil and human rights are not charitable gifts, but obligations of a truly democratic society.

What advice would you give to a group of entrepreneurial young adults?

Their development as good citizens should be equal to, or exceed, their ambitions. This means being a lifetime learner, which includes reading and writing. It is important that we grow as the world changes.

Leave us with one of your favorite quotes from an author.

Kurt Vonnegut, who ended many paragraphs with: “So it goes.”

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ITALIAN AMERICA SPRING 2020 37 For more information, visit www.myitalianfamily.com, or call 1-888-472-0171

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