Vina: A Brooklyn Memoir. Joseph C. Polacco

so thankful, he offered to pay, but Mom refused. So he gave her an autographed copy of his 2001 book, Drawing Music: The Tanglewood Sketchbooks (Tom Cross, Inc.), which features sketches of musicians performing at Tanglewood. I now own that dedicated volume, with lovely, expressive sketches—of the likes of Mstislav Rostropovich and Seiji Ozawa.

      So, Sol became part of Mom’s circle. Vina could not just deal with people in an impersonal or professional context. They had to be family, and that list includes Tony the Fruit Guy, Sal the Tomato Man, Kim of Kim’s Fresh Produce, her hearing aid guy, and Chris Corritore who did her taxes. In most cases, there was an opportunity to make a creation for a new baby in the family.

      During tax season I got this from Chris, who still does my taxes.

      Words cannot describe what your mother meant to me. I always think of the smile that she brought to my face when she walked into my office. She really didn’t have to do taxes but I made sure to do everything I could to make sure [she got] something back every year—just so she could have a reason to sit with me.

      I can only imagine her in her last days suffering but still having the patience, willingness and determination to knit my little girl [Isabella; I remember, Chris] the most beautiful pink sweater I’ve ever seen. I’ll always keep it as a memory.

      Mom was not morbid, in spite of the knocks. This “old broad” aged gracefully, and was fond of saying, “A vecchiaia è na carogna,” dialect for “old age is a rotting putrid corpse.” I forgot the phraseology for the alternative of growing old, thinking it was something like, “Better to smell old than smell dead,” but, University of Missouri colleague, Professor Carol Lazzaro-Weis, suggested something more poetic: “ma per chi non ci arriva è una vergogna!” Or, “but for those who don’t get that far, it’s a shame!” (Tante grazie, Professoressa, that’s what Mom said!). Georgette, like most, loved Mom’s sense of humor:

      I must say that for a woman whose life was not always smooth, she had a lot of humor. While visiting in the hospital with Joe [yours truly] and Phyllis [Florie’s niece], we got on the subject of death. We were saying that we are not so good at dealing with death. We were discussing sayings like “God wanted him,” or “It was his time,” or “She passed on,” and when we got to “Only the good die young,” Vina said, “What does that mean? That if you live to an old age, you are mean and rotten?” And we laughed and laughed. That was Vina—she always had the punch line. I’ll bet she is keeping them hopping in heaven. Miss her a lot.

      They also miss Mom in the Holy Family Home (for the elderly and otherwise incapacitated). Toni Caggiano and Georgette went to the HFH to seek out administrators to get permission to hang a dedicatory plaque for Mom. A “second-in-command” was on hand, Denise Daniello, and as Georgette recounts:

      Toni explained that she wanted a plaque in Vina’s name. The response, get this: “Do it. I knew Vina, a wonderful woman. I was sorry to hear that she died. She did an enormous amount of work here.” She was so receptive; Toni couldn’t believe it [and] started crying. I don’t think Toni expected such a response. Toni asked, “What about the new manager?” Denise said, “I’ll deal with him; I’ll talk to him. I’ll put the plaque in the recreation room, which is where she did a lot of work.” Toni started crying again. And so it went.

      On May 31, some months later, there was a memorial mass for Mom at the home, coinciding with the mass that celebrates pregnant Mary’s visit to her cousin Elizabeth. And after the mass, there was a lovely dedication of the plaque. The food spread had only a little to do with the fantastic turnout. Georgette is convinced that Mom “connived” to make sure that the right person dealt with Toni, and that the traffic on the Verrazzano Bridge from Jersey was light that morning.

      If you have stayed with me this far, you will have noticed how intertwined are the lives of Mom, Georgette, Large Mary, Toni, Florie, Phyllis (and Florie’s mom, who was also Phyllis’ grand aunt), et al.— and the list is abridged for clarity and privacy. The aforementioned happened to share a hallway in a Bensonhurst apartment building, and those bonds have lasted for at least forty years. And, Carrie, Armida’s second husband’s mother, was also the mother of Tootsie, Julie’s late wife. So, Armida and Tootsie were sisters-in-law. If this seems gnarly, you can understand why we Italians are all just “cousins.” Mom, however, had all these relationships down pat.

      Photo courtesy Georgette Adams

      Georgette and Mom at the wedding of

      Georgette’s niece, Ana Marie, center.