Well, I’m a little frustrated with my running , or non-running self today. But at least my Saturday was pretty cool, and filled with accomplishment.
My dear friend Kim accompanied me on my promo rounds, yesterday. Like two traveling salesmen ladies we made the rounds with our ice coffees in our cup holders and 70’s and 80’s music on the radio.
First stop, Davisville Free Library in North Kingstown, where I am scheduled to do my first ‘gig’ reading and signing books. I am both looking forward to this and dreading it at the same time. Looking forward because it’s what I’ve wanted to do almost my whole conscious life. Dreading for the same reason. It’s a lovely, bright little town library with pleasant supportive people, so if nothing else I’ll spend a June afternoon with some nice people.
I love this story written by Dr. Ed Iannuccilli. It captures what it feels like to be an Italian American on Thanksgiving. It most likely speaks to all of us who have relatives that came here in search of something better and are so very thankful for what they have received.
Today I am home with my daughter, she is sick, and my husband is making the annual trek to Prudence Island to be with his family. My very caring parents-in-law offered to stay with Julia so I could go, but I can’t have a good time anywhere if I know she is home sweating out a fever.
I am thankful that I have two sets of family traditions- the Testa/Fiore’s and the Mitchell/Naughton’s. Both sets of families are full of laughter and love, along with the usual ‘unfun’ and difficult times that we all face. But I wouldn’t chose to be part of any different families. I am home with both.
Jeremy please be sure to bring us back some turkey. Mom, save me a little stuffing.
“Virginia Cotungo DiBiase told what happened to her and her two siblings when there were claimed by their father at Ellis Island. They had not seen their father in thirteen years. They did not recognize their father and he did not recognize them…”
“A woman from Thornton, Tribelli, I think. She was a mid-wife. She used to deliver all the babies. To prepare they used to boil water in the kitchen…They didn’t have cribs. They used to make a place with a pillow and put the pillows to the babies couldn’t move or fall. They kept the baby born with blankets. They had to watch out when the baby got big that it didn’t choose by putting the blanket in his mouth”
“Marolyn Senay absorbed the atmosphere of her grandmother’s village of Pugliano and her grandfather’s town of Sparanise…we drove into the town and it was like walking back in time. It was thrilling and more emotional than I thought it would be…”
Last night I had the pleasure of attending Voices, a dinner hosted by the Italian American Historical Society of Rhode Island celebrating the publishing debut of their newly compiled – Voices of Rhode Island Italian Americans