Angelina was not supposed to survive. She would of course not know the details of her story until retold to her by her older brother years later.
My grandmother was one of the strongest women I have ever known. She sacrificed so much in order to come to America and make a better life for her then family of three. Even though she couldn’t have ever imagined, her sacrifices would have also benefited future generations. She was always so proud that I “wrote the book” about her immigration story when I was still in elementary school. Some day, I will write an actual book on her story because it is truly unique and there is more to it than one or even several blog posts could cover. So here’s her (abbreviated) story.
Angelina was born in Youngstown, Ohio to a shoemaker and a housewife. She had already had four siblings – all brothers. The oldest three had emigrated with their parents from a the small town, Bojano, in the second smallest and the last added as a separate region of Italy – Molise. As the story goes, Angelina’s mother did not want any more kids after her fourth son and so her doctor had given her something that would help abort the baby. This “medicine” clearly didn’t work. Angelina was small when she was born and the doctor, for fear of being blamed for any problems with the newborn, told her mother to return to Italy or they would both be in trouble. Angelina’s mother took his advice and boarded a ship with her five children. Nicola, Angelina’s father remained in Ohio to close his business and sell his home before he could return to Italy to join his family.
On the ship, Maria, Angelina’s mother had told her older sons to tell anyone who asked if she needed any help with the newborn to say that she was nursing her and everything was fine. This was untrue. Angelina soon stopped making sounds and moving. Maria had told the oldest brother that they would bury her when they got to Naples. However, when the baby started to shake, her brother got nervous and went to get help from a nurse on board. That nurse probably saved her life.
When Angelina arrived in Bojano, a wet nurse was found for her and she would take care of the baby. Mamma Maria Giuseppa and Papà Giovanni would always have a special place in Angelina’s heart. Angelina thrived and at the age of sixteen, with her father, opened a restaurant in town. It was at this restaurant that she would meet my grandfather, Ranieri, who was in town installing electricity after WWII. They married and had a daughter, Lattanina. Times and circumstances were difficult in Italy at this time, so Nicola, Angelina’s father, had arranged for his daughter to go back to where she was born.
Angelina had no idea up until the day her father had arranged for her to return that she had been born in America. He had saved all of her papers and made the arrangements. Angelina left behind her husband and daughter and set out to make a better life for her family. She would stay with my grandfather’s cousin in New Jersey and work hard in a factory to piece work until she had enough money saved to send for her husband and daughter – and she did – after only eighteen months.
My grandparents worked hard to achieve the American dream and were successful.
Ever since I can remember, I had always been close with my grandparents. I would often spend a few weeks in the summer with them in their house in New Jersey. When I would stay with them, they would always tell me stories about Italy and family. I would play Scopa (an Italian card game) with my grandmother, take walks with my grandfather and eat – a lot. My grandmother was probably one of the best cooks in the world. I was once asked by a teacher where my favorite place to eat was and I said, “Grandma’s.” She asked me where that restaurant was and I replied that it wasn’t a restaurant, it was my grandmother’s house in New Jersey.
I am so lucky to have had my grandparents for so many years in my life. My grandfather passed away months before my first son was born and my grandmother passed away two years ago, when I was 43. I’ll never forget all the stories and the memories of their garden that grew EVERYTHING. My grandmother was always there for me and I am grateful that I was able to be there for her, in return, even when she passed.
Family stories are so much a part of us. Sharing them keeps them alive. If you have a story you’d like to share, leave a comment and make sure to keep telling them in your family.
