Italy is noted for many things, her food is copied and appreciated worldwide as is her opera, her music sings to the world in color as well as lyrics making love to the ears, eyes, and other senses. Her architectural prowess knows no bounds as does her marble monuments, historical sights, and Italian cars and engineering and can equal anyone on Earth. Her medical and scientific gifts to the world are legendary, she is Italia, she is world-class, beautiful looking people, and she is something else, too!
She is the birthplace of the Italian Grandmother or Nonna, as she is called.
Where else can you readily identify an Italian grandmother without her telling you? She wears black! She was almost born wearing black and when she married grandpa, she wore black the day after her wedding. Grandpa always slept with his eyes open. Watching his bride dressed like a widow made him nervous.
With the Italian grandma came something else Italy gave to the world, the greatest of cooks, cooks whose recipe file was in Italian and all in her head. Her measurements for cooking were precise: “A little offa this, a pincher offa that, anda somer offa those.” Stray from it and she would disapprove.
Even God had no say when it came to Italian grandmothers. Every Sunday at Our Lady of Loreto, the Italian grandmothers would sit together in the front pews while the sermon was given in Italian. While the lady's chit-chatted during the sermon, a sermon filled with one of damned fired, hell, and brimstone, arms flailing and hands synchronized to the cadence of the homily, a sudden: "SILENZIO!" would resonate throughout the church from an angry Italian priest at the chit-chat Italiano, Grazie Nonna!
If Mass was not enough, you had to withstand the glitter of little medals pinned on ample bosoms reflecting on black dresses, medals of Saints Joseph, Anthony, Theresa, Francis, and the Madonna, and that was the first square inch. Come to the consecration, out came the handkerchiefs as the tears flowed, followed by another conversational chitchat and the obligatory: "SILENZIO!" once again.
It was not enough to visit Grandma, you had to withstand her index and middle finger pinch of the cheek, a ritual of twenty wet kisses infused with the healthy essence of garlic and if she felt the slightest bit of wooziness, she did both cheeks with both hands while hanging on! (Facial cheeks)
Votive candles, holy pictures, and rosaries may have been scattered throughout the apartment, but by far the single most holy rite was eating. There are no "snacks" in nonna’s house, no, just full course meals that raged all day long, where on Sunday it changed to multi-full course meals, with an abundance of food and wine, and the ‘Holy Orders" was "Mangia tutto!"
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