Visiting Nonna and Nonno:
At the time of building our home on St. Louis, I was three years old and we lived briefly with my grandparents on Howard Avenue which was only two blocks away. I frequented their home often and have fond memories of playing, eating, and talking to my grandparents, Aunt Francis (which I called Che-cee-ne), Uncle Joe (I called Pepe), and my Aunt Jennie. My grandmother’s name was Rosina and my grandfather was Calogero Gesisipi. They were lovingly called Nonna and Nonno. Both were of Italian decent and had arrived from Sicily years earlier around the age of 15 or 16. Of course when I was born, they were retired and had previously owned grocery stores in West Tampa (one was on Main Street and the other on Howard Avenue). They were from the area of Italy (Sicily) called Santo Stefano. There were two stories of how they met. One when Nonno was tending sheep and crossed over the mountainside, he met Nonna. The other story was they meet though an arrangement of marriage. (I’m not sure which one is true)
Picture of what it could have been like in Santo Stefano.
This part of Italy (Sicily) was economically depressed and many Italians decided to leave in order to find a better place to live and raise children. Once they left the area of Santo Stefano, they arrived in the United States as immigrants and were processed at Ellis Island. They were married at a young age which was not uncommon for the time. Both were very simple, dedicated, intelligent, and extremely interesting, but most of all loving, nurturing, and caring. I remember Nonna lovingly telling me many stories of the old country. She only spoke Sicilian and somehow as a youngster I understood much of what she was saying. She spoke of her town, her growing up, and the “miracles” she remembered as a young girl while living in Italy. Much of her story was forgotten by me as I was told at an early age and partly due to me not understanding the language completely. It is difficult for me to determine the difference.
Sicilian vs. Italian
I realize that throughout my life that there has been a difference in dialects when it comes to language. I realize my grandparents spoke Sicilian and when I hear other dialects such as the Italian language, I realize though I do not speak or understand much; I did have a limited vocabulary and recognized the difference of the two. I could follow my Nonna and Nonno when they spoke, I could follow my mother, but she was the “newer generation” at the time and began using dialects from the current area. This included a mixture of Spanish, Cuban and “slang”. At times, she was careful and spoke to me in Sicilian (although rarely), but I knew when she spoke the Sicilian dialect. Usually she spoke Sicilian when speaking to any of her family members. While working at the store or speaking others outside the family, she used a mixture of languages and dialects.
The Sicilian language has been shaped by many years of foreign influence, occupation, and conquest. Unlike Italian, which is almost entirely Latin based, Sicilian has elements of Greek, Arabic, French, Catalan, and Spanish. This can be seen in many Sicilian words, like “azzizzari” (to embellish, adorn) from the Arabic “aziz” (beautiful), or “foddi” (angry), which can be traced to the Norman French “fol.” (Nonno also knew words from the Gipsys. He and mom told us a few words to use if we needed to-unfortunately I do not know how to spell them, in order to use them here.)
Grammatically, Sicilian is also very different from Italian. For example, all the pronouns for I, he, she, you, and them are different in Sicilian. Also, take into account that Sicilian does not distinguish between plural endings for verbs, using the same conjugations for masculine and feminine nouns. In Italian, the plural form differs according to gender, and there is much more concern about agreement between nouns and adjoining adjectives. (Since Nonna and Nonno pointed out the differences between masculine and feminine nouns when trying to teach me, I do believe they used them).
A great deal of the actual Italian influence on Sicilian has been since 1860, when, during the Italian Unification, Sicily became a part of Italy. More and more, there is risk today that the Sicilian language will eventually die out due to the influx of the Italian language into Sicily, becoming the preferred tongue among the natives. Even Sicilian emigrants, like my own family, speak a brand of the language which is different from what actual native Sicilians speak, simply because the language has changed so much even in the last 50 years.
The map below shows the area of Sicily, located on the Southern tip of Italy. (Thanks to Google maps).
The area of Santo Stefano Quisquina was mentioned by family members through the years; therefore, I am convinced this is where they came from. Here are some facts that I found on the internet:
Santo Stefano Quisquina is a comune (municipality) in the Province of Agrigento in the Italian region Sicily, located about 60 km south of Palermo and about 35 km north of Agrigento. It has strong ties with Tampa, Florida.
Santo Stefano Quisquina stands at an altitude of 730 meters above sea level and borders the following municipalities: Alessandria della Rocca (they spoke of this area, but not sure the significance of it). I feel it could be the “sister city” of Tampa.
“Click and Play while you read…”
This region of Santo Stefano shows the mountains and a village. There is also the port of Santo Stefano which is close by. I can only imagine Nonno tending sheep, crossing the mountains, and finding Nonna there. Since I am not positive, I will go with this image.
Mt Etna
The air of nervous expectancy that surrounds Mt. Etna is backed by recent experiences of eruptions. While its largest eruption in the last hundred years took place in 1928, it routinely leaks lava down the side of the mountain, damaging farm ground and burying buildings. Seismologists track Mt. Etna info carefully, waiting for the day when the next big blow up arrives, so that they can warn everyone to steer clear in time. Nonna talked about seeing the ruins of a volcano (maybe this was the one)! She said she could see the people, buildings, etc. still frozen in lava when she was a child.
Or perhaps she was able to visit Pompeii and saw those ruins. Time will not tell anymore only use your imagination.
Click this link to learn more:
Santa Lucia:
Nonna shared a story about a young girl who was placed at the top of a hill (close to where she lived) and had her eyesight restored. This celebration takes place on December 13th each year; she baked a tribute to the Saint, which in English means “the eyes of St. Lucy.” In Italian, it is translated: “gli occhi di Santa Lucia”.
This was the story of St. Lucy also known as (Santa Lucia) and is still celebrated in Italian culture to this day. The following is a brief description of this Saint:
Saint Lucy (283–304), also known as Saint Lucia or Santa Lucia, was a wealthy young Christian martyr who is venerated as a saint by Roman Catholic Church, Anglican, Lutheran, and Orthodox Christians. Her feast day in the West is 13 December; with a name derived from Lux, Lucis meaning “Light”, as she is the patron saint of those who are blind. Saint Lucy is one of the few saints celebrated by members of the Lutheran Church among the Scandinavian peoples, who take part in Saint Lucy’s Day celebrations that retain many elements of Germanic paganism. Saint Lucy is one of seven women, aside from the Blessed Virgin Mary, commemorated by name in the Canon of the Mass. Hagiography tells us that Lucy was a Christian martyr during the Diocletian persecution. She consecrated her virginity to God through pious works refused to marry a pagan betrothed, and had her wedding dowry distributed to the poor. Her betrothed pagan groom denounced her as a Christian to the governor of Syracuse, Sicily. Miraculously unable to move her or burn her, the guards took out her eyes with a fork. In another version, Lucy’s betrothed admired her eyes, so she tore them out and gave them to him, saying, “Now let me live to God”.
Pompeii
Nonna spoke of a great eruption and how people were turned to stone from the ashes of a volcanic eruption. She saw the remains and spoke of this sadly. This was the area of Pompeii where violent eruptions took place in the late 1700s, 1800s, and early 1900s, with lava flows and ash-and-gas explosions. These damaged and destroyed many towns around the volcano, and sometimes killed many people; the eruption of 1906 had more than 100 casualties, so I would only guess this may have been the incident she remembered as a young girl and spoke of. As a young child, I would never tire of listening to her while we were in the kitchen, dining area, or with a group on the front porch. Nonna sometimes would be polishing the china cabinet, and would stop to share a story with me from her past. She was always so excited to tell of her past; and I regret not knowing the language better, “but her love always came through”.
Nonno and Nonna visits to Italy
Nonna and Nonno were both energetic happy people, who enjoyed visiting Italy (Nonno more often than Nonna). Perhaps he missed the old country or family members, but he never said. In their earlier years, they both considered living in New York or California, but preferred Florida. I warmly remember them bringing back presents on their trips; such as an accordion, a harmonica, or Morocco’s from different trips. Upon returning, they never talked much about the trips from what I can remember. They were truly excited to see me play with the new toys. I don’t know if they were sad that they left their country; or just that they thought I would not be able to identify with the experiences. Throughout the years, Nonna had pictures she would place in what was called, “a viewer” sharing various pictures of the old country. The pictures I have long forgotten, but the experience still remains with me to this day. She was born Rosina Castellano and had many brothers and sisters (I never knew them). One brother visited in the late 1950’s. He was built like her (short and round) not heavy. He had a great personality like Nonna and seemed very professional. My grandfather had a large family too, but I do not remember much other than attending a few funerals on both sides.
Italian tradition (at the time) consisted of a period of mourning lasting two weeks; with no music, laughter, or entertainment during that time. It was their way of showing respect for the departed.
Nonno’s name is similar to the puppet maker in the story, Pinocchio (Click on the word to read about the story!) but I am sure he was not named after him. I created this story just for fun, so do not read too much into it!
Calogero Gesisipi (Carlos Joseph) Mistretta was Nonno’s full name. My cousin, Joe Mistretta, from Uncle Paul’s side of the family was named after Nonno. Nonno spoke beautiful Sicilian and English to the point of it being very “poetic”. He was a very quiet, but a determined person (compared to my grandmother); stern yet very sensitive. He was not much of a talker, but in a few words could express love, happiness, or disappointment. Nonno was a great lover of opera and would listen to his albums every chance he had. (Paul Mistretta Jr. also loves opera.)
Ponte alla Carraia
This scanned Post Card (Carte Postale) was probably purchased by Nonno. It shows the Ponte alla Carraia.
This is a more-up-to-date view of the bridge. The Ponte alla Carraia is a five-arched bridge spanning the River Arno and linking the district of Oltrarno to the rest of the city of Florence, Italy.
The first mention of the bridge (then built in wood) dates from 1218. Destroyed by a flood in 1274, it was soon reconstructed, but fell down again in 1304, under the weight of a crowd who had met to watch a spectacle. It was the first bridge in the city rebuilt after the 1333 flood, perhaps under design of Giotto. Again damaged in 1557, it was rebuilt by the will of Grand Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici, who assigned the project to Bartolomeo Ammannati.
Enlarged during the 19th century, the bridge was blown up by the retreating German Army during World War II (1944). The current structure is a design by Ettore Fagiuoli, completed in 1948.
Nonno
Nonno in his earlier years with his rim glasses in Tampa. I have seen this style of rims many times in my lifetime.
The Garden
Uncle John Mistretta and his daughter, Bobbie (Roberta), next to the Mango tree in the 60’s at Nonno’s home.
Nonno had a passion for flowers and spent much of his time in the garden nourishing them. He ordered seeds from magazines from all over and experimented with numerous flowering plants and trees. Their home had two extra lots and in the space they used it (like many people of the time) to grow vegetables such as carrots, potatoes, or spinach; (I ate carrots to the point of disliking them for a while, since I was told it would improve my eyesight). They raised their own chickens for food and the rest of the land was used for his gardens. In a movie, to be displayed in another chapter shows their goat. They may have had goat(s), but, I cannot recall. There were two fish ponds that were for decorative purposes located in the gardens. Many of the fish were of the goldfish variety, but I do not recollect any exotic varieties. Sometimes I would see the cats trying to get to the fish; although, I’m not sure if they ever did. The climate of Tampa must have been warmer than today; because they were able to grow (in their yard) mango trees, pecan trees, and avocado trees that flourished even with the winter freezes that came later on. I remember palms in the front yard, crotons, and plenty of roses (his favorite flower). Nonno raised roses as his specialty and had many varieties of crotons and trees. He had cement bird baths to adorn the front yard along with the concrete table and benches that I still enjoy. Many times during my childhood, we would have conversations along with other family members while sitting on that bench! For some reason, I would use a butter knife to cut into the benches; which are still visible today. I learned this practice from one of my cousins, either Jr. or Joe. I’m so very glad I did not ruin them forever by doing this! I assume this is why Nonna was always chasing them around with a broom!
Our grandparents grew up in a period of economic depression (not only in Italy, but in the United States as well); but learned to manage quite well with what they had. They were not rich, but I cannot remember them doing without the necessities. They were always dressed neatly, clean, and had sufficient food on the table. During this time, Aunt Frances, Uncle Pepe, and Aunt Jennie lived with them; all working to share expenses during hard times. It was common for family members to live together during this time,
Aunt Frances stopped working when I was young, as she contracted tuberculosis resulting in one lung being removed.
I remember her coming back from the hospital and staying in her room. She was on strong pain killers, which forced her to stay in bed most of the day. She did learn to manage living with one lung and made allowances for it. I do remember her being short breathed at times, but she never complained.
During these hard times, they and others in the area would “flip over” the electric meters in order to save electricity. The “meters” only had two poles, making it common and easy to do. Uncle Pepe was the one I would see doing this after dinner. It seemed to be his job!
I believe people thought of this as “survival”!
Although this is not my grandparents, house I found one that looks similar, No one seems to have a picture of their house before it was torn down. Basically the shape is identical and the garage was located on the right side as in this picture, but the front yard was raised and had a wall. There was much more landscaping with crotons, roses, palms, avocado trees, pecan trees, and banana trees to the right side of the garage. I keep the banana trees all my life, (planting them) wherever I lived but they could not live in Tennessee due to weather. Luckily, I gave my brother, Bobby, some cuttings and have left others in homes in the area. Also, I did the same with a fig tree that came from Louisiana. There was a large pecan tree on the right side and behind the carport along with two fish ponds. The ponds proved to be very delightful fish watching for us, as well as for the cats in the area. There were many days and nights we would sit on the front porch, using the slider swing and rocking chairs. Sitting on the front porch was common, just as using a deck or back porch is today. Since there was no air conditioning during this time (even though the house had high ceilings), sitting on the front porch was to socialize as well as being more comfortable in the afternoons and evenings.
They had their own garden and raised chickens for meals. I can remember Nonna taking care of that chore to this day. Many times our meals included wine. I will never forget the long necks on the wine bottles; along, with how they were woven with cords. I was allowed to have wine, but for some reason rarely drank any. I think this was due to my father’s influence! This brings up a funny story about my first experience with alcohol. I knew around four or five that whiskey or bourbon was kept in the lower cabinets of our kitchen on St. Louis St. One night, I was curious as any youngster would be and thought I would like to try some. Having no clue as to how they tasted and how strong the whiskey would be, I poured about a third of a glass and decided to try some. To my astonishment, I heard someone coming to the kitchen and it alarmed me; so I laid back my head tilting the glass to approximately the same angle and gulped it down. In my mind, I thought this would be the equivalent of drinking a coke-cola!
This was the only time in my childhood; I experienced how awful it was to drink too much and never did that again!
Aunt Frances and Uncle Peppa enjoyed what is called“Malt” with their dinners. I assume is very much like a beer and was only consumed during meals.
Everyone would gather at Nonna’s house and spend time; in the picture above you see Mom, Dad, Ray and I. We probably had lunch and since we seem to be dressed up, it could have been on a special occasion or a Sunday.
Many days were spent at Nonna’s home including sleeping overnight. I would play with friends such as Joe Diaz or Louis Motto. We played games as did other children of our age; acting out shows we saw on television, playing chase, or using our water guns. Many times we spoke for hours about people and the things we did. Magic acts were popular then, so family members purchased them for us, or we collected them from cereal boxes. We would gather our magic kits and practice our “magic” in front of each other to pass the time.
At Nonna’s, there was a black and white porcelain table in the kitchen area that I remember so well. Here is where you either had breakfast or lunch; as dinner was reserved for the table that was in the open dining area in the back of the house. Aunt Francis whom I called (ch-chee-ne) always encouraged me to eat as did others. She would try to entice me to eat the things I did not like, by telling me they had vitamins or iron in them. One of the days, I tried to be funny with her by taking out my magnet to place over the food in which she said had iron (lentils). I wanted to demonstrate to her that the magnet would not pick them up………she laughed as I did and I don’t think she brought up the iron in the food routine anymore! One time while eating there (on the same table), I swallowed a bone of some type and began chocking. I could not breathe! My Uncle Pepe happened to be there and somehow reached in with his hand and pulled it out. It was like he was a doctor with training as he just did it so fast without even thinking about it. (I don’t think I would have made it, if he had not been there). They were my favorite aunt and uncle because they spent so much time with me, even in my latter years. I would buy them small gifts when I got older, but don’t think I ever told them how much I loved them and how much I appreciated them. I would be thankful all my life for them!
Many more stories can be told and many will be lost as in any story, but just a few quick ones.
During sleepovers, I would use Aunt Francis’s bed. I remember a movie called “Colossal Man”. He was a normal man who by accident became a giant. Due to that story and sleeping alone, there were many nights I would “freak out” (since the windows were open) that perhaps something like that would appear.
On a lighter note, Tampa had many lightning bugs and during the evening I would capture some. I placed them in a glass container and watched them light up at night when I went to bed. I placed holes in the lid so they could breathe; then, the next day I would let them go. The worst insects to me were the grasshoppers! They seemed so large to me and I always thought they were so ugly and scary looking and would stay away from them. Even their bright colors were scary!
I remember their inspection door located in the bedroom closet; fascinating me to be able to open it and peer to the ground beneath me. Although, this has no great significance to my story; I just wanted to mention it as it was one of those things I just never forgot.
Calogero and Rosina Mistretta (Nonno and Nonna)
The Return of my cousins
Joe Mistretta and Paul Mistretta: (aka Joe & Jr.).
As time went on, two of our cousins moved out of the state with their father, our Uncle Paul. I did have a connection with them and even while they lived in Chicago; somehow that connection was never broken, so when I heard they would return, I was really excited. I realize from what I saw and heard from Mom and Nonna that they went through a lot before the move. Divorce at a young age, is not pleasant! Nonna spoke of them returning one day and I had many memories of them before they moved and the life they had encountered before moving to Chicago. I never understood what divorce was at that age, and how it affected families. I just hoped one day that they would return and we could find happiness and be together.
When it was time for them to return, I was unsure how to greet them. I had vivid dreams of how they and I would act! I wondered if I should acknowledge them in Italian or English; even thought of hiding out until they found me. I did hide behind the door (at the back of the house) before they entered, as I was so excited. Eventually, I came out as they entered the back door and I stood in front of the built-in ironing board that was on the wall. I did not say much, but was just happy they were back!
I am sure I did not say much, but I realized there was a great connection between us. It developed into a wonderful friendship that lasted.
They were young and mischievous and many times gave Nonna a hard time! I would sometimes laugh to myself, as I would see her small body chasing the two out the back screen door with a broom and yelling in Italian the way she would……….some of her fiery words. (I will not repeat them here, but often hear them in my mind; as she was so small, and yet so powerful in heart. Nonna was a woman you would never want to hurt, as she poured of love and dedication, but occasionally her “buttons would get pushed”. I’m not sure what upset her, as she was always such a calm loving person. Her cursing them out in Italian was more comical then anything else.
Jr. loved music and played records much of the time, with Chuck Berry being his favorite; Jr.’s interest in music motivated me to want a record. I’m not sure who purchased it (but feel it must have been my parents), but my first record was by Dean Martin and the title was “That’s Amore”. I would play that “45” over and over again. It did have a flip side, but I cannot remember its title.
That’s Amore
Here are the lyrics: (Click the link to play!)
(In Napoli where love is King, when boy meets girl, here’s what they say)
When the moon hits your eye like a big-a pizza pie
That’s amore
When the world seems to shine like you’ve had too much wine
That’s amore
Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling
And you’ll sing “Vita bella”
Hearts’ll play tippi-tippi-tay, tippi-tippi-tay
Like a gay tarantella
When the stars make you drool joost-a like pasta fazool
That’s amore
When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet, you’re in love
When you walk in a dream but you know you’re not dreamin’, signore
‘scusa me, but you see, back in old Napoli, that’s amore
(When the moon hits your eye like a big-a pizza pie, that’s amore)
That’s amore
(When the world seems to shine like you’ve had too much wine, that’s amore)
That’s amore
Bells will ring
ting-a-ling-a-ling
ting-a-ling-a-ling
And you’ll sing “Vita bella”
Vita bell-vita bella
Hearts will play
tippi-tippi-tay, tippi-tippi-tay
Like a gay tarantella (music of Italy with a lively beat)
Lucky fella
When the stars make you drool just like pasta fazool
That’s amore (that’s amore)
When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet, you’re in love
When you walk in a dream but you know you’re not dreaming, signore
‘scusa me, but you see, back in old Napoli, that’s amore
Amore
That’s amore
As time went on, sometimes Jr. would take me to Linda’s house (his cousin) in West Tampa. When visiting Joe and Jr.’s mother’s home, we played in an open field in Ybor City where I meet their sisters, Shirley and Rosemary. On one of my visits, we were playing fort and I fell into a deep hole and cut up my hands. I believe they took me home and that was the last time I remember going to their house to play. Jr. and Joe were always “fire bugs” and Jr. actually lite a hula hoop on fire at Linda’s house to demonstrate how neat it flared and burned. He more than Joe was fascinated with fire! They also introduced me to lighter fluid and we would make designs in the sidewalks then light them up. Later on I would go to the gas station next door to buy fluid. I had purchased too much one time and the owner would not let me buy any more. It was a great thing then as people knew you; and they looked out for your safety!
Joe and Jr.’s fire experiments did not stop with lighter fluid; they set off firecrackers and blew up bottles, including Jr. setting one off inside the attic of a duplex Nonno was building. The story goes on with one of them setting a field on fire near Armenia Avenue. (They had lite some chemicals behind a dry cleaning business and the materials there are very combustible). It was my cousins that started me lighting cattails that we would find at the river’s edge and using them for torches. We even placed them in pipes on the back of our bikes as exhaust pipes. Now, I think you understand why Nonna would at times chase them with a broom and say to them what she did! J Then she would tell me in Italian how they acted, but again not a bad thought in her heart.
On occasion (while we lived on St. Louis), Jr. and I would visit Uncle Tommy and Aunt Mary’s house on the next block. Mary loved music and she would play records for us to listen to when we were not playing outside. We were impressed to realize she liked the same songs we did. I guess the age difference was not really that much when it came to popular music. I recall “Mac the Knife” was a very popular song then. She would share stories of visiting New York and the Empire State Building.
I would sometimes play in the street and one time I raced across the street (blocks away), near my elementary school of Cuesta, in front of a car. A lady told me she was going to tell my grandparents about me. I am sure she did not know me, but she took the responsibility of correcting my behavior. Because of her, I never did it again!
Nonno’s Nights at St. Joseph’s Hospital
In the early 60’s, there were times when Nonno had to take medicine for his heart. Sometimes while eating, he would have to stop and place a nitrogen pill under his tongue before he could continue. This always worried me, but he seemed to take it in stride. Several times though he had heart attacks and had to be hospitalized at the old St. Joseph’s Hospital (where I was born and spent time during my third grade year). While he was in the hospital, I would spend many nights with him. He never spoke much, but I could tell in his heart he loved having someone there. He never had problems when I was there and for that I was thankful. (I do recall some of the nurses laughing when they spoke of Nonna chasing them down the hall. At the time, I just looked at the nurses without laughing and when I returned to his room, I would chuckle to myself). It was a great time for me even though there were not many words spoken; we did seem to always have a bond and I knew I could always count on him!
West Tampa Theatre on Saturdays
I spent weekends at my grandparents’ home. On Saturday mornings (even while in elementary school), I was allowed to walk several blocks away in the West Tampa district to one of two movie theaters. They would charge around 25 cents and I could buy lots of candy for around the same price. I would look for candy that contained some kind of prize, as that was always a pleasure. There was always a “current news” reel along with a continuing episode of some cowboy series in which you could follow. I did this practice for years. When Joe and Jr arrived, we did go once or twice together and I introduced them to Alessi Bakery. We all had great appetites and ended up buying 35 cents worth of cinnamon buns after a show, but we could not finish them! Chuck told me when his dad did not want him to “hear something”; he would send him walking to the bakery to buy something. I still laugh about this even now.
I had four other cousins that lived in Minnesota. This was my Uncle John’s family. He and his wife, Dorothy, would visit bringing Bobbi (one of their daughters). She and I seemed to be close, just like Joe and Jr. were to me. Bonnie, her sister, was closer to Chuck and, Pollie, her sister and brother John, were younger and stayed close to home from what I remember. She came a few times by herself and we got to do things together just as if she were one “of the guys”. One of her last visits was after graduation from high school. Before coming to Florida, her mother, Dorothy, asked her if she would she like to visit relatives in Holland, get a cosmetic operation or visit Florida. Well, I think she made the best choice! It was a great time, as she met one of my closest friends, Tommy Watson, who lived close by. We went on many outings together, rented motor scooters, and swam in Uncle Meme’s pool. Bobbi enjoyed going to the beach and getting a tan!
The next time we meet was in Atlanta and the last time we got together was when she and her husband, Bud, visited Carol and me when we lived in Valrico, FL. on Sylvan Oaks Drive.
Now we communicate by emails or phone as it is difficult to stay in touch with people that are so far away.
Having Fun at the pool! (Uncle Meme’s house):
(Johnny, Pollie, Dennis, JoAnn, Bobbie, Tommy)
(Dennis, JoAnn, Bobbie, and Dad at Uncle Meme’s home in Tampa)
As a footnote, I wrote several cousins asking them to share what they may have remembered from their childhood pertaining to visiting Nonna.
This writing was sent to me by email on 2-1-13 by Bobbi Mistretta:
Danny,
I probably have spent a total of 60 days my entire life with the Tampa folks. Therefore, I have virtually no stories. I do recall, the summer of 1965 when we came down I had my first ever store bought birthday cake and I thought it was so special. I felt the love and warmth from Nana and had a great time at your Mothers store helping her bag groceries and helping Paul make sausage. I just know that the feeling I had was I wished I had grown up closer to that side of the family than the ones here in Minnesota. I remember Phyllis having such a neat bedroom and ALL the talking that took place around a dinner table.
On 2-3-13 Bobbi Mistretta emailed this. I realize I am trying to create this story from memory and what I know at least in my mind. There may be others out there that know perhaps their truth or version of the story. I will not agree or disagree as cannot prove what is right or wrong only to present a story, not history but something we can read and think about.
“Very nice”! I think I would change that they were form Italy, since they were actually both from Sicily and that is a different culture and actually a different language. My understanding too was that they didn’t meet until they were both in Tampa. Dad tells me that while Nana was rolling cigars, her future mother-in-law told her she was a beautiful woman and that she had a son for her to marry. Nana said “no” since her older sister had to get married first as was the cultural custom. The lady said, (would this have been Zula?)……..” No problem I have two sons……..” (Paraphrased) so the two Mistretta boys married the two Costa sisters………….anyway, that’s what I always heard. Whether they knew one another in Sicily, I don’t know”
Good Work! Thanks
Bobbie
This was sent from Joe Mistretta as he always forwards email and I modified it to things I remembered.
Capeeshe Italiano……..(understand Italian)
I’m sending this out to every person I know who is Italian, could be Italian, married an Italian, lived with Italians or wants to be Italian……!!!!! When I got done I realized I am related to most of them?? Brings back memories!!
Let’s start at the beginning.
Come stai? How are you?
Molto bene. Very well
Bongiorno. Good morning
Ciao. Hello or good-bye
Arrivederci. More formal good-bye
Every Italian from Italy knows these words and every Italian-American should.
But what about the goomba speech pattern: Those words and phrases that are a little Italian, a little American, and a lot of slang.
This form of language, the ‘Goomba-Italiano ‘ has been used for generations. It’s not gangster slang terms like ‘whack’ or ‘vig’, if that’s what you are thinking—nope, this is real Guido talk!
The goomba says ciao when he arrives or leaves. He says Mama Mia anytime emotion is needed in any given situation.
Mannaggia, meengya, oofah, and of course,
va fongool can also be used. Capeesh? These can express strong feelings and emotions or can be offensive. Capeesh, I know some of you do!
There are usually plenty of mamalukes and the girl from the neighborhood with the reputation is a facia-bruta, puttana or a schifosa.
Don ‘t forget to always say per favore, grazia and prego. Please, thank you, you are welcome.
If you are feeling mooshadda or stounad or mezzo-morto, always head to Nonna’s and she will fix you up with a little homemade manicott’, cavadell’, or calamar ‘, or some ricotta cheesecake.
So salud’ if you have any Italian blood in you and you understood anything written here! Then, you are numero uno and a professore of the goombas.
There is some sort of religious statue in the hallway, living room, bedroom, front porch and backyard. (A Mary on the half shell).
The outdoor table is linoleum covered with small, chrome metal trim along the edges. (We had an indoor black and white porcelain table to eat breakfast or lunch on in the main kitchen)
All lampshades, stuffed chairs and stuffed couches are covered with stiff, clear plastic. (No, I think it was only Dennis that did this)
A portrait of the Pope and Frank Sinatra hang in the dining room. (the Pope and Dean Martin are my favorites)
God forbid if anyone EVER attempted to eat ‘Chef Boy-ar-Dee’, ‘Franco American’, ‘Ragu’, ‘Prego’, or anything else labeled as Italian in a jar or can.
(This was a sin as Nonna never understood it)
Meatballs are made with pork, veal and beef, mixed together. (What we would call polpette di carne)
Turkey is served on Thanksgiving AFTER the manicotti, lasagna, and minestrone soup.
All pasta was called macaroni…or `paste`.
Last was coffee with anisette, some espresso for Nonno, ‘American’ coffee for the rest – with hard cookies (biscottis) to dunk in the coffee with more fruit and some cheese. (there is a brand name biscotti out there that is called Nonna’s and I still enjoy them to this day. Many flavors and chocolate covered is one of my favorites.)
The kids would go out to play.
The men would go lay down. They slept so soundly that you could do brain surgery on them without anesthesia.
The women cleaned the kitchen.
We got screamed at by Mama or Nonna, and half of the sentences were English, the other half in Italian.
Italian mothers never threw a baseball in their life, but could nail you in the head or back with their shoe thrown from the kitchen while you were in the living room. (Remember Joe and Jr. and Nonna chasing them with a broom so guess she was good at baseball as well)
True Italians will love this.
Those of you who are married to Italians will understand this.
And those who wish they were Italian, and those who are friends with Italians, will remember with a smile.
Thanks Joe, for sharing fond memories. Danny
Scuba Diving with Joe and Jr
Final story about Joe and Jr
Joe and Jr. were always willing to explore and do new things. As a teenager, Joe learned how to scuba dive and bought himself a Health scuba tank and gear. Jr. was of driving age and one day they came to the house to take me to Crystal River. My parents, as far as I can remember, did not know anything about this! When we arrived at the river it was on a cold winter day. It was my first experience there, learning to dive and my first (out of perhaps 10) cigarettes in my entire life but hated them! They taught me to dive and I felt we were safe. We returned home late that day. When my parents found out, they were not only mad, but told me I would not be allowed to go with them anymore! I knew they were upset and had good reason, but as time passed we continued going off together. Later on, Joe would lend me his scuba gear and I would use it at the beach when we visited Uncle Meme’s beach place or when we went to Gandy Bridge. The one thing I enjoyed was that they were older and were able to expose me to all kinds of activities. While I was in the eighth grade, Jr. was able to take me to college dances on the weekends. I remember dancing with girls and I asked what college they attended. When it came my turn, I was at a loss for words or would say USF.
Later on in life, there was a period where I had to work at the store and did not see them as often, but I can remember Uncle Paul talking Joe, R. and Rosemary with admiration.
One more item that comes to mind was when Jr. bought my father’s 1953 Mercury (drove it like a hot rod). When he sold it a gentleman asked about its engine, Jr. was quite a salesperson. Later on, he bought a brand new 1962 Corvair with stick shift in the floor. He would allow me to drive it once in a while and it was the most fun I ever had driving a car.
I don’t really have a picture, but took this 1962 model from the internet.
1962 Chevrolet Corvair: