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Unfortunately, neither I nor Laura looked like that. Oh we had pretty faces, (thank God!!!) yet we smoked, wore makeup and our vocabulary at times was worse than a truck drivers.

“She actually said that?”
“Yes, and I had to bite my bottom lip in order not to cry”
“What did Frank say?”
“Not very much, he pushed me towards her so I could give her a kiss; I just wanted to spit on her!”

I smiled at the thought, and Laura then proceeded to tell me about her evening.

Frank’s mother was a typical Italian woman. She had come over in the 50’s, came from hard working parents and then worked in a factory all her life. Her home was her castle, although they lived in the basement, her 1st floor was filled with Louis the 14th furniture, plastic on the sofas and of course the curtains were the heavy, dark red with gold trim “mandovani” style.

After the demeaning comment was said, she got the grand tour of the house and “oohed and aaawhed” as she was taught to do. They ended up in the basement, she met Frank’s father, a bent older man who didn’t say much and went into the “cantina” too many times during the evening (this is a “cold room” where all Italians keep their wine and precious homemade goods)

Frank’s mother asked her question after question about her family, where did they come from how long had they been in Canada, what did her father do, her mom, how many siblings and although these questions were normal, after every response, she sighed, rolled her eyes as if she was putting down the answers.

Stay tuned for part 3




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