or sickness, my father’s faith did—not in Catholicism as you might have thought to a good Italian, but in the leading evangelist of the time. From my father’s perspective, I could not always tell whether the Reverend sat to the right of God or God sat to the right of the Reverend. In the 1950s the Reverend celebrated his healing ministry on weekly television. At 9:00 a.m. (Indiana East time) each Sunday, the evangelist stepped into our living room as the five of us sat quietly in front of the television. He ended each service the same way by asking the home viewers, like us, to touch the television screen, as he prayed for our healing. Our family did as he requested at our father’s insistence. And there we were with our five hands pushed flatly against the television screen. I often thought how our whole family could have been incinerated in an instant by a well-timed electrical storm. However, we were spared for some reason obviously for some greater mission. Father brought us to see the evangelist in person at the local Coliseum. We were herded in line like cattle by our father and waited for several hours. The Reverend eventually appeared and placed his hands on our heads in passing. Father seemed happy—at best, we were confused and a trifle bored.
Growing-up Catholic and Italian also presented many rituals, ceremonies, and festivals whose essence impacted on our family life. Most festivals celebrate the feast of a patron saint of a city or town. When the feast of the saint is upon us, a great procession is held in the city with the townspeople carrying a statue of the saint through the streets of the city. All the windows are decorated with the best-colored blankets. All the young girls of the city wear white dresses and follow the procession scattering flowers through the streets. When the procession is over, the people return home to dinner, music, and dance, especially the Tarantella. This is an old dance that reminds the elderly of the city of their earlier days. The remembrance is brought about because of the old style of the dance.
In another celebration, the Easter period is filled with many activities. Beginning with Palm Sunday, all the children dress in their best clothing and prepare for the days activities by constructing a large palm. This was accomplished by holding together many small palms or branches of the olive tree. After the palm was constructed, the children placed homemade ornaments such as cookies and chocolate eggs on the palms. They then brought their palms to church and had them blessed during the Mass. After the children returned home, they placed the blessed palms in their bedrooms usually behind a picture of the Blessed Virgin Mary or Jesus, and kept them there until the next year. At that time, they are burned and replaced by new palms.
On Holy Thursday, the people visited all the churches in the city—my mother had 7 churches in her city—to see the sepulcher where Jesus laid. The sepulchers were made of mosaic or colored rocks. Mosaic rocks and flowers are also used to celebrate beautiful sceneries of our Lord’s passion and death.
On Good Friday, the maceleries—stores in which only meat was sold—are the view of the city. The best meat, especially lamb, was displayed in the window decorated by much greenery and flowers waiting to be sold on Holy Saturday.
On Holy Saturday, people gathered in Florence, Italy to see one of the largest processions, which included many city officials dressed in old style costumes. The procession went to one church after the other all through the city.
On Easter Sunday, millions of people gathered in St. Peter’s Square in Rome to hear and see the pontiff give his papal blessing. My mother took part in many of these ceremonies in her birth city of Carrara.
The city of Viarreggio was famous for another procession, the Viarreggio Carnival. Throughout the month of February, people came from all parts of Italy to enjoy a historical procession that included floats, great flower displays, people dressed in costume and masks, and dancing in the streets. This carnival is much like Mardi Gras in New Orleans.
The city of Venice also celebrated a similar carnival except that it is said the festivity was much more beautiful because it took place at night. A parade of gondolas with multicolored lanterns are loaded with food, musicians, and people who all enjoy themselves by eating, drinking, and singing through the Grand Canal. The carnival, which lasted all night, also included a display of fireworks. The next day, the Regata, a race between two gondolas, took place. It was considered a sport and included prizes of money and flags of the city. There was also a main prize: the Trofee Marciano, a trophy that became a permanent possession of a three-time winner.
Food is at the heart of all of Italy and the center of many festivals. Many food experts believe that the greatest chefs come from Bolgno. During the months of May and June, the Bolgnese people enjoyed a festival of food in the Parco della Montagnola. This festival attracted many people who came to admire some of the best specialties of Bolgno: Tortellini (ravioli) and Lasagnette (lasagna). The food was placed on large tables similar to picnic tables and served to the people who came to the festival.
Another festival, Festa del’ Uva, the Feast of Grapes, took place in Tuscany, which is in northern Italy. In Tuscany, the month of September is called Vendenia, which is also called the Festa del’ Uva. During September, all the people get together to pick grapes by hand and place them in a large barrel. While they picked grapes, they sang folksongs or stornelli, told jokes, and did anything else that would make people laugh. At night, when the day’s work was completed, the grape growers (owners) gave a dance for the young people while the elderly sat around and watched the young dancers.
Sometimes it took three or four days to pick all the grapes from the groves. However, once they are all picked, they are placed in a large barrel. The young girls of the village then wash their feet and climb in the barrel to mash the grapes. The juice of the grapes dripped out of the faucet at the bottom of the barrel and drained into a smaller barrel. Then the wine was bottled and set aside for fermentation.
On a more personal note, we always had productive grapevines on our property. Both my grandmother and mother picked grapes every summer and mashed them down with their bare feet in a large bucket into their own wine… and we did not sell any wine before its time—actually, our family consumed what little wine we made.
What happened is that our family had apparently more good fortune than bad. We all survived the superstitions, proverbs, and remedies. The historic rituals and ceremonies enriched our lives. We confused our friends perhaps a little, but survived nonetheless with no apparent ill effects. Well, for the most part… I work hard at not spilling milk or salt and never, ever spill olive oil. I don’t even go near the stuff!
The early childhood years passed without much fanfare or notice. Another beginning entered our lives as mandatory formal education soon beckoned at our door. Mother was overjoyed for some reason—a reason we never clearly understood until our later years. Attending parochial school left me with many memories, most of them fond and sentimental ones. These memories are often brought sharply into focus by fleeting scenes on television and the movies, or by nostalgic song lyrics. By now, you may be wondering where this is going, but stay with me. I am still leading up to why I was unable to date formally.
In 1957, I and 119 other neighborhood six-year-old children were entering parochial school for the first time. Those of us who were born during the term of President Harry Truman were known as the Korean War Babies—at least that was how we were described by the newspapers of the time. There was no kindergarten in parochial schools in that era. All 120 of us wide-eyed and curious entered the first grade at St. Therese of the Infant Jesus.
In 1957, a World War II hero, Dwight D. Eisenhower was serving as president. It was the year in his term that he was to suffer a serious illness only to recover and serve three more years. In America then we were laughing at a Cuban named Castro and the French were losing a war in some far away country we never heard of—Vietnam. Our own nation and people were at reasonable peace.
As many young Catholic girls and boys, we learned about God and the teachings of our Church via the dark blue covered Baltimore Catechism dated pre-Vatican II. The Catechism taught us the faith of the Catholic Church