momma's kitchen
new tragedies, new stories
by Camille Di Loreto
(return to food)

Like many children who grew up in the fifties our home was not filled with fancy hi-tech gadgets. I remember not having a dishwasher and not having air conditioning. In fact for the longest time we were one of the few families still watching black and white television. As the latest appliance found itís way into our home each moment became a monumental event. While we lagged behind the rest of America in technology, we were experts at the ancient art of story telling.

Stories held a very significant role in our small house in Clifton, New Jersey.

Stories held a very significant role in our small house in Clifton, New Jersey. Each story usually had an underlying moral lesson as well as a history lesson. The history lesson was generally divided into two areas. The first being Italian history and the latter Italian American History all integrated with our family history.

I suppose the reason for this particular family quirk was because both my mother and her sister grew up in the era of the great depression. Every aspect of their life was very difficult. For them the only form of entertainment was the family radio and each other. They too grew up listening to the stories of their parents, grandparents, Aunts and Uncles. So I suppose their experience reflected my own in growing up as a child in the fifties-- just so you know, there was a 40-year age difference between my mother and I. ; )

One of the convenient times for a story was just after dinner. This served a dual purpose. First it kept me entertained while I was doing dinner chores and second it insured that the following evening we would hear the conclusion. Actually ,to be perfectly honest, I had no choice in the matter.

...dramas generally unfolded at the kitchen sink with all the suspense of an Italian soap opera.

As with most of our meals we enjoyed them in the comfort of our basement kitchen. We generally all ate together, the entire family- la Mamma Maria, Papa Angelo, Uncle Tony, Aunt Sadie, Sister Maria, Mom and Dad. Clean up duty was left to the women so we cleared the table, swept the floor and did the dishes. It was never boring because like most families there was always the daily drama of life. Those dramas generally unfolded at the kitchen sink with all the suspense of an Italian soap opera. This reality-based story was our family history being retold in vivid detail and in regular nightly installments. The colorful history commenced with life and relatives in Italy. It continued with the family's journey to America, the long 30-day trip by ship from Sicily to Ellis Island in the late 1800ís. When I was older I remembered watching the movie the Godfather and thinking this was exactly how my familyís lived and struggled without the mafia connection. Their struggles with language and prejudice were often part of the story. The pride in being an American for my relatives was just overwhelming. More than anything they wanted to fit in and be assimilated into the culture.

The rich family history continued with stories about World War I and World War II. Many Uncles, Cousins, and Brothers volunteered to fight in these wars to protect America. The war stories were many and they were very sad. One story I recall was about my Uncle Jimmy. He was my grandmother's third child and second son. Jimmy wrote to his mother daily and my grandmother did the same to him. At some point the letters stopped. My grandmother was devastated. She tried all avenues to locate Jimmy and no one was able to help. Time passed and she continued to pray and locate information. After many weeks, even months she received a letter. He was alive but was in battle in a submarine in the Pacific. These times were very difficult and some of the stories did not end as well as Jimmy's story.

The war stories I am certain were not unique. Men leave their families, women staying behind to carry on life at home during times of war. It was difficult but they did their duty to God and country. All the stories had included their prayers and their trust in God.

As my mother told these stories, tears welled up in her eyes.

I recall being mesmerized by all the details, the emotions and the tears these stories evoked. Although time healed the wounds of war, the scars left were still vivid. As my mother told these stories, tears welled up in her eyes. She knew how it felt to wait, to watch, the effort it took to keep hope alive. The women in our family prayed constantly. They went to church daily. Their days were filled with novenas and special masses. They lit candles all in the name of their loved ones and their trust in God.

As the years passed distance was placed between these times, I heard the same stories over and over again. I grew tired of the tears these old stories still generated. I no longer wanted to hear all those sad details of days long ago filled with ancestors I barely knew and even the stories of the ones I did know made me grow tired. I always tried to be respectful of the stories however I listened less intently as I grew up, began to care less. I sometimes attributed their tears to their ignorance of the world. I was going to be much more sophisticated than all of that. However, it almost seemed, as I grew older I became more ignorant and less tolerant of the tapestry of my family.

It was as if on one hand I thought I understood the emotions, the despair and the love. Yet on the other hand I did not wish to deal with it as a part of my life. It was not my experience, it was theirs and it was too painful.

As I journeyed through my life, I became a wife and a mother three times. I endured the pain of childbirth. I learned what it felt like to wait not knowing what may occur next in the development of 9 short months. I recalled the sheer joy of counting the ten fingers and ten toes of each one of my children just after their births. As life's journey always does it teaches to those who wish to learn what life is all about.

I truly began to understand the tears my Aunt, Grandmother and mother shed.

I learned how it felt to wait for a husband away on a business trip. To listen to the news about airplane crashes and holding my breath until I heard my husband's voice. Life began to unfold and reveal lessons I had already been taught. In a very small way, we all learn the same lessons our mothers, grandmothers and aunts learned only in our own time and place. Life forces us to claim them for our own. I truly began to understand the tears my Aunt, Grandmother and mother shed.

It was about 8:45am Dallas time, September 11th. My daughter called from Philadelphia. She wanted to know if her dad was home or still in New York. He was indeed at home. She told us to turn the television on because there was an attack on the World Trade Center. My husband and I watched in horror as smoke billowed from one of the towers of the World Trade Center. We clutched each other in total disbelief. As we watched flames and smoke a second plane exploded into the second tower of the Word Trade Center. We watched as people from everywhere ran to safety. We watched as a nation cried for innocent people. We wondered if we knew anyone the towering infernos. There was silence as we cried and stood there numb.

Tuesday all through the day I prayed. Most of the day I cried. That night my husband and I attended a special mass at our church. I wonder now about the future of our country. We must be strong. We must be courageous. We must stand together united against our enemy. We must pray. Christian, Muslin, Jew all of us must pray to our God for strength. Americans have a rich history of standing up for what is right. We are now called upon to do the same in the name of Freedom, in the name of a Civilized World. We are all part of this great tapestry called Freedom. WE CAN GET THROUGH THIS.

I think of the words of my Aunt and my mother. The tears they shed and the losses in their lives. I recall their words that are so clear in my memory. I now understand. And the words of our pledge of allegiance ring in my ears." I pledge allegiance to the flag, of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation under God indivisible with liberty and justice for all." We make those sacrifices of our loved ones to live in the greatest country in the world.