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So, as I popped in a very old tape, with every favourite Italian song from my youth….
It had been several years since I had listened to these songs that I grew up on, and was caught so off guard when with the first song tears came rolling down my face.

If you’re over born before 1970 and come from a little Italian background, then you would have memories of songs sung by Celentano, di Bari, Modugno, and of course the wonderful Louis Prima and Italo-Americano who loved his roots and sang the most beautiful tunes and ballads.

Italian songs are beyond special, for the ones with an upbeat and quick tempo “A che bello caffe, sol a Napol san fa!!!” can get you going even if you’re in the lousiest of moods.. And then you listen to “O Solo Mio!” and even if you didn’t understand the words, tears would roll down your cheeks! Italian songs, especially those sung by singers from a Neapolitan background, are the most touching.

Of course we can’t forget good old Dean Martin. Who doesn’t get a thrill when he sings “When the Moon hits the sky, like a big pizza pie” it’s a part of our heritage somehow, and everyone knows most of the words.

One song that resonates the most is “Lasciatemi cantare”, By Toto Cotugno.

Lasciatemi cantare
con la chitarra in mano
lasciatemi cantare
una canzone piano piano
Lasciatemi cantare
perché ne sono fiero
sono l'italiano
l'italiano vero.
(You can google for the entire translation, it’s a must!)

Snippets of memories come to me, from as early at 8 years old when we’d be on vacation in Hampton Beach or Old Orchard Beach and my aunt would be this portable record player that literally “ate” records and played them, the old 45 rpm’s. Ahhhhhhhhh my parents, aunt and uncle would be sitting talking, I’d hear their laughter and the tunes as I was lying in bed, wishing to be an adult and to be a part of their “clique”.

Or when we’d be together at Christmas, the whole family before anyone had ever died, and the songs would play…and we’d sing along, and although I have a great speaking voice, my singing voice is horrific!!! I didn’t care,  I’d hit the high notes, much to my brother’s chagrin and embarrassment, yet my dad’s eyes would fill with pride.

So, even with all the cafoneria and vergogna I may have with certain elements of the Italianism’s I write about, I admit that many things I hold dear.

Things change as they always do, we move from childhood, to our teen years to becoming an adult….go through various stages and phases, new loves, marriage, divorce, heart breaks, heart aches, loss, obstacles and triumphs, and amidst all that…to have a little special corner that I just found that brings back such great moments, memories are indeed made of this!


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It is an unspoken code somehow between family members and “paisans”. So, if you’re going out and your top isn’t exactly what your parents, siblings or grandmother thinks is apropos, then they will tell you “Ma where are you going looking like that?”

So, if you’re a strong willed, independent person you’ll wave back, pretend you didn’t hear them and walk out the door!

If you’re stuck in that mode of pleasing others, then you will turn back and go change!
Because God forbid someone would see you and then comment to others about not looking a certain way and it got back to your family! This would begin a chain that goes something like this: “Does she not know how to dress anymore” to “You’d think she’d know better to go out looking like that!” These comments get back to “la famiglia” and as they are negative in nature, they feel it reflects upon them, hence living your life for others, always!

The opposite is “una bella figura” whereby you’re making a good impression and everyone wants that!

For many Italians, the brutta figura is the ultimate insult or shame against their name.
It ranges from: how people don’t say anything to anyone if a family member has a disease, goes into the hospital, or worse getting a divorce.

Somehow it’s always worse for women, as in the Italian culture whatever goes wrong is ultimately the woman’s fault! I remember growing up, if you had a baby girl some would cry and carry on that it wasn’t a boy. Little did they know that it’s the man who determines the sex of a baby.

It’s a strange phenomenon how even today it’s so ingrained into the head of many that the younger generations are still following this ‘unspoken” rule. To live one’s life based on always having to make a good impression results in oppression and repression and that volcano explodes at some point and then you end making the ultimate brutta figura!

So, live you life as you desire and send anyone who says anything “a quel altro paese”



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So, it costs you $60 bucks to get in (like a cover charge) and they “encourage” you to bring a gift!!! This astounded me! Actually it disgusted me! The money you gave at the door was always put towards the “gifts”, now it’s more of a money making scheme for the bride to get a lot more than she ever bargained for.

The invite said 5pm, my mom and aunt got there at 6, the bride didn’t get there till 6.30. She walked in with her fidanzato (fiancé), they had a dance and he left.

You’ve heard me use the word “cafone” several times, but this party really is the cherry on the parfait of all cafoneria!!!

This bridal shower had both moms in competition to see who would outdo the other. Not a very good combo, as that always makes for a few “moments” that will stand out and hey get written about like I am right now!

The hall was decorated as usual in the bridal colours of pink and white, everyone was given an umbrella as they walked in (which in turn is the bonbonniere). You find your name, find your table and now the show begins!!!

Throughout the meal gifts were being opened and toasts given by the brides’ mom, mother in law, sister and sister in law…what astonished my mom was what was coming out of their mouths.

Seems like the mom of the bride went on and on about how her family’s the best, they do everything together and they discuss everything before anyone does something. Ok, a little much, but then the sister got up and reiterated the exact same thing.

You can overdo something and it seems that this entire affair was overdone.
The MC, as usual, was some has-been, who couldn’t really speak proper English and his Italian wasn’t any better.

Part III next week!




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Growing up in the 70’s I went to a lot of showers with my mother and family. They’d be held in reception halls, with about 70 women. Tables of 8 or 10, with a lot food, the old nonna’s who couldn’t be bothered but were there for “figura”, the MC some old has been “wanna be” who laughed at his own jokes, while games were played and prizes given. The gifts were many times duplicated and in triplicate until someone figured out “hey let’s have these brides register”.

After the meal, the men showed up!!! That’s when the bar opened, and dancing. Times changed, so did this tradition of the men showing up, but for the most part a lot of brides are stuck with these very out dated bridal parties.

I didn’t get it then and when I was getting married in 1986 decided I didn’t want that kind of shower…and of course always the non-conformist, my mom and I planned my shower.

Usually it’s a “surprise” whereby you’re fiancée drives you to the designated place and you’re surprised!!! Like you don’t know when your mom yells out, “get dressed up nice today”…..

So, my mom and I planned it ourselves, I made out a gift list (I was ahead of my time as now it’s called a bridal registry) and we had a nice supper at a restaurant, no games, no silly gifts that would embarrass the older women there and we were about 30 women.

Over the years, I went to many showers for friends and the one’s that were not Italian had nice bridal showers where only the girl friends came and there was usually a theme and it was “lingerie” with a stripper at the event. Ok, a few laughs, maybe too much booze, but hey…better than those Italian shindigs!

I have not been to a shower in 3 years and I vowed afterwards unless it was someone terribly close to me, I would never go to another one ever again!!!

So when an invitation came a few weeks ago, I answered “no” but my mom and aunt went, more out of obligation than anything else.

Stay tuned for part II



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New York! Acting! Her mother touched her left breast, which always means “oh my God, I could be having a heart attack” her father yelling, her mother crying and after days of this, she succumbed, went to work for her uncle and that’s where she met Frank.

Frank: tall, dark and handsome, the typical storybook man who rode in with his Corvette, sexy smile and she felt so flattered when he asked her out.

Her friends were jealous, her mother proud she was dating “un pezzo di uomo” and her father liked the fact that his family came from the same small town he came from.

That was all fine, but she loved the way he made her feel. He taught her things she had only read about and never believed anyone could feel such pure joy and pleasure from a man’s touch. Even though he never worked a steady job, she believed when he said how he could do better, and now at 26 he wasn’t working, but he had prospects.

Living in her dream world Lilia thought that everything would be taken care of. And why would she think otherwise. She was brought up to believe all girls ever wanted to do was get married, raise a family, live close by, whether it was in a duplex or 5plex apartment, every Italian had a home, and was fed whenever necessary and the grandparents took care of the kids.

The wedding, free apartment, her mother to babysit and take care of her, even after being a married woman, yes….that’s what she grew up on…..

Do Italian families still fill their daughters’ minds with “you have to get married”?
Do parents feel happier if the man comes from their home town?
Is it right to deny your child’s dream?
These are the questions today’s Italians should be pondering….
Are you filling your kids with these thoughts and ideas?

Not everyone is meant to get married, or have children. Get the rent money that you’re supposed to get from a stranger and let your kids dream….for if not to dream we shall surely die!







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“Let me tell you bella mia, it’s not that easy. Me, I gotta say I’m not happy but not surprised that young people have sex, but how stupid can you be to get pregnant! You never heard of how you call that “safe sex”?

Beyond shocked, Lilia poured herself a glass of vino.

“So because of one stupid moment we now have to change everything just for you? Cara mia, it doesn’t work that way”.

Lilia and Frank sat there in stunned silence by what they had just heard. They thought after the shock would have worn off, she’d be pleased to be a nonna and be willing to help.
But here she was calm and spouting things they didn’t even know she knew about and it allowed them an inside to her thoughts.

Fear enveloped Lilia at what the future would hold. She loved Frank, or so she convinced herself, he was so good looking, a real “catch” as her friends often said. Ok, so he didn’t have a job, but he was getting a lot of prospects he said by hanging out at the bar in the morning. She was working as a receptionist at her uncles construction company and they’d make due if they could live upstairs.

She ran from the basement, taking 2 steps at a time until she flung herself on her bed, and lying there she reflected over what was said by her mother and all she knew was that she was 22, Frank almost 30 and she had to get married.

Lilia had grown up with this thought ever since watching Cinderella as a child and then hearing it over and over from her mom, aunts and paisans that all girls grow up, get married, have kids and take care of their family.

Stay tuned for part III



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An Italian beauty, Lilia stood average height with above average looks. Her chestnut coloured hair in long curls framing her olive skinned face as her big brown eyes lit up with happiness as she hugged her mother.

Lilia’s mother, a shorter version was cooking over a hot stove, in typical “mamma fashion” with her apron on, hair in curlers and a wooden spoon in hand hugged her daughter as tears fell upon her wrinkled cheek.

The proud father got up and shook Frank’s hand and brought him over to the table, pouring some homemade wine into a tiny glass and was now patting him on the back.

Lilia’s mother walked over and hugged her soon to be son in law and asked, “When’s the wedding?”

They stood there for a moment in silence and Lilia said, “This September”.

Her mother waved her hands in the air saying, “but that leaves us only have a few months to prepare, why can’t you wait till after your sister’s married?”

Lilia’s face reddened as she sat down and told her parents to do the same.

Her father was the first to say, “Yah gotta get married, is that it?”

Lilia’s eyes filled with tears as Frank reached over to pour himself another glass of vino and he replied with a little stutter in his voice, “it happened and now I’ll take care of it”.

“Take care of it! What kind of answer is that?” Lilia’s mother was now crying and shaking her head as a curler fell to the floor. “How can we have your wedding before her sisters without people talking …ah Madonna che vergogna!!!”

“Ma, we were thinking of having a very quiet wedding, just la famiglia, we’d move upstairs and after the baby’s here it would be perfect, us close by and you could take care of the baby while we go to work”.

Part II next week……


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