Background
Another chapter in my story of memories for my grandchildren. I want them to know of their Italian heritage. I wanted to remind myself of my favorite childhood memories.
Approximately 825 words
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At a time in history when immigration to the United States is being frowned upon, I look to my past. I wouldn't be here if my great grandparents hadn't left Italy to set sail for the United States back in 1903. Though the Italian immigrants were viewed as ginneys, wops, and degos, the story of my great grandparents is one of triumph in the face of adversity.
I was lucky enough to spend a great deal of time with my grandmother. I'm not sure if she always agreed to take me home with her because I begged, but I'd like to believe that she just liked to have me around too.
Grandma was a great story teller, and one day I asked her, "Can you tell me how mia Nonna e mio Nonno (Great grandma and Great grandpa) came to America?"
She looked at the ceiling as she gathered her thoughts. As she began, I could see the pride in her eyes. "My Papà and Mom, Angelo Francis Lista and Rose Sarducci Lista, left Italy in May of 1903. They had just gotten married. They were only 16 and 14, but it wasn't unusual in those days to marry so young. My parents left their home in Reggio di Calabria shortly after the wedding. The Calabria region is at the very tip of the boot of Italy. It's right across from the island of Sicily, and the feuding was thick and deadly. My Papà didn't see much in their future there, so they set off to America with all their savings and belongings."
Grandma had a habit of mixing Italian with her English. She had been fluent in the native tongue of her parents while she was growing up, but as she taught herself English, she lost a lot of words. Since Nonna's death, she really had little reason to speak Italian – except for curse words.
"Rosa, ci si deve spostare in America." (Rose, we should move to America.)
"When they got to the United States, they lived with a cousin, their sponsor. The apartment building in the Italian section of New York city was small, but they all lived comfortably. Papà found a job unloading trucks, and my Mom worked in a bakery."
"Rose, avremo una buona vita qui." (Rose, we will have a good life here.)
"My father dreamed of the day he could find some land and start a farm like the one he left in Italy. He knew how to raise cows, pigs, and chickens, and he knew how to care for grape vines. Rose would help him and they would bring up their babies in this new country of theirs.
"Scrimping and saving, they added to the savings they brought from Italy. One day, Papà heard about a man who was selling land. Since he didn't speak much English, he brought his cousin, Francis Maglione with him.
"This man had dollar signs in his eyes when he sold the stupid ginney a bunch of swampland down in New Jersey. Little did he know what my father would do. He used that land to enrich their lives."
"Da questa terra, potremo costruire il nostro future." From this land, we will build our future.
"He purchased thirty acres for three-hundred dollars. He sent word to Italy that he could sponsor anyone who was willing to work hard. For the next five years, he sponsored fourteen families and helped them to make a life in the United States. First, he built a house to accommodate those that came from the old country. As the others built their own houses, he had room for the growing family. Eventually, a large group of houses, grouped all together, formed a new Little Italy. My Mom gave birth to three little girls, all only eighteen months apart. I was the oldest, born in 1905. Mom stopped working after I was born, and devoted herself to her little girls and being a good wife.
"The swamp land was used to raise pigs. Papà made his fortune selling the stock for meat. The labor was provided by the men he helped, and the little community helped one another as they formed a life in their new homeland.
"As a second money crop, grape vines were planted and eventually the grapes became a thriving wine business. Your great grandfather was a brilliant businessman. He didn't do anything without thinking of how it would benefit his family."
The acre of vines were still standing when I was a little girl. Some early memories have me playing under the branches. I can remember my great-grandmother stroking my cheek, and telling my mother,
"Guarda come ella proveniva direttamente dall'Italia." She looks like she came straight from Italy.
At my great-grandparents' compound, I was the little darling and youngest of the great grandchildren.
"La mia bellezza." My beauty, as Nonna called me.
Author Notes
My great grandparents, Nonna and Nonno, died within months of one another in 1963. An important part of our family history died with them. The family land was sold, the houses were knocked down, and a hospital now sits where the Little Italy part of Metuchen, New Jersey used to be.
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