![]() Not just flower gardens, but huge gardens where we grew tomatoes, tomatoes and more tomatoes. There was another difference between US and THEM. They never knew the pleasure of waking up every morning to find a hot crispy loaf of bread waiting behind the screen door. Americans went to the stores for most of their foods. We would wait for their call, their yell, their individual distinctive sound. They were the many peddlers who plied their wares in the Italian neighborhoods. There was no animosity involved in that distinction, no prejudice, no hard-feelings.just, well, we were sure ours was the better way, For instance, we had a bread-man, a coal-man, and ice-man, a fruit and vegetable man, a watermelon man, and a fish-man we even had a man who sharpened knives and scissors, who came to our homes or at least outside our homes. ![]() Everybody else.the Irish, German, Polish, Jews, they were the "MED-E-GONES". But I was ITALIAN.įor me, as I am sure for most second generation Italian-American children who grew up in the 40's or 50's, there was a definite distinction drawn between US and THEM. Americans are people who ate peanut butter and jelly on mushy white bread that came in plastic packages. Of course I had been born in America and had lived here all of my life, but somehow it never occurred to me that just being a citizen of the United States meant I was an American. Years ago someone coined these words: "Imitation is the greatest form of Flattery" I only ask them to read my future blogs and then to return to me the RIGHT to my essay."I was well into adulthood before I realized I was an American. To those who took my words, thoughts and phrases (which MY BRAIN created) and used them to be their words, I hold no animosity. It is very similar to the 1978-1980 versions.as to facts, words and phrases (except that I moved them around a little) and added a new paragraph.bringing it to the 'first person'. ![]() When I was 95-years old, I wrote my last version after a Thanksgiving celebration in my apartment, and I marked it as the last version. I nearly fell-off of my chair, when Claire in 2006 told me it was on the Internet. When I lived in Toms River, N.J., I know for a fact, that my friends in Silver Ridge Park, as well as those in Holiday City, Crestwood Village, and several nearby communities, took my essay and made copies for their respective friends throughout the United States. Many paesan-friends, who had experienced all that I had were so delighted when they read my essay. ![]() My essay gave me much pleasure over the years, especially in the seventies and eighties. It was my first blog that resulted in my being named as the oldest blogger.and it was my first blog, unwittingly, caused reaction to my essay The Joy of Growing-up Italian. The validator is Eric Shackle.the renowned World Newsman, Journalist, Internet Investigator and Publisher - to whom I shall eternally be grateful. YES! I am 99 years old.and YES I am the author of "THE Joy of Growing-up Italian, which I wrote on an old manual typewriter in 1968.and yes, I am The Oldest Blogger on Earth until someone else older than me claims the title. I believe he is the proprietor of The John Pirelli Lodge in Dayton, Ohio. ![]() What a great show of appreciation! Several of you have also expressed a desire to know the author and John Pirelli is one of them. I want to thank each and everyone for doing so. For several weeks, I've been very busy surfing the internet, seeking those who have placed the essay "The Joy of Growing-up Italian" on the Internet as Author Anonymous. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |