Growing up an Italian-American, I have a wealth of Christmas memories of a family that lived "La Bella Vita"; the good life! My soul, my being, the passion I feel toward Christmas was built by decades of exposure to a family of Italians & Italian-Americans. Not too much Italian was spoken, though the women would often fling a few choice Italian "pleasantries" towards the men, as they sat like kings, waiting to be served. No, the warmth and love shared by my extended family; Grandma Mary & Grandpa Vito, Aunt Rina & Uncle Raffaelle, who were constantly fighting, Aunt Mary & Uncle John, who didn't have kids of their own, but showered the rest of us with their love, Aunt Marie & Uncle Mike, who did speak Italian with Uncle Raffaelle & Grandma & Grandpa, add four cousins and you had a pretty large dinner table, or should I say, dinner tables!! And of course, there was always the kids table too! Rina, Mary & Marie were three of the four daughters born to Mary & Vito Limitone. The fourth, Rose, God's loveliest flower, was my Mother. Married to Neil, and the mother of three boys; George, Larry & me, we would all share Christmas Eve dinner, Italian style, every year during my childhood. These are the clearest, warmest and defining memories of my youth. It would be hard to explain to someone what transpired at an Italian Christmas Eve during the 60's & 70's, but what it was was beautiful!!! As an 8 year old, it may have seemed like a major burden, being forced to wear dressy clothes and having to sit at the kids' table, enduring dinners that usually lasted 3 to 4 hours. Little did I know then, this time of my life would help form my very character and the fiber of my being and will forever be how I hold Christmas to my heart!
The smells of the food cooking, the sounds of the women in the kitchen, preparing a 7 course meal like a finely tuned assembly line, complete with meatballs, mozzarella & fennoccia. The courses came to the table in rapid fire. Dozens of hands armed with spoons, forks and knives would pierce braggioli, meatballs, sausage, calamari, antipasto, spaghetti, monicotti, ravioli and those were just the appetizers. There was an orgy of food, consisting of fish, fish and more fish. But for some reason, which remains a mystery to me to this day, I couldn't eat any type of seafood. I mean, I couldn't get it past that little hangy-ball thing in the back of my throat. I would have a gag reflex whenever something from the sea entered my mouth. I don't know how many times I was told, "it tastes just like chicken". Yeah, nice try. No shrimp swimming in garlic sauce is gonna taste just like chicken. But that didn't stop me from eating everything else, from nuts, to fruit, to lasagna, to ravioli, to turkey, to ham, to spaghetti & meatballs!!!
Feeling full? Well, leave room for dessert!!! After that cornucopia of Italian fish & pasta specialties, there would be the cheese cakes, the "svigiadell", cannoli, "pastachort", black coffee & anisette, and the part I loved the most, grandma's home made cookies!!!!
One of the enduring memories I have of these feeding frenzies, was that throughout all of the 7 courses of food, the men wouldn't leave the table nor clear a dish. No, the women would dutifully clean the plates and glasses and masterfully, "vacuum" all the bread crumbs with a brush gizmo from Fuller Brush, that to this day hasn't been replaced or improved upon!!! The men sat there, and would actually lean back in their chairs while the women would remove the many empty plates from in front of their stomachs, smugly asking for the next course of food! And after the last morsel was devoured and the last sip of anisette was savored, the men would retire to the living room, cigarettes or cigars at the ready. While the TV was turned on, us kids, antsy from sitting at the kids table for what seemed like weeks, would run around from room to room, chasing one another, screaming and laughing, oblivious to the fact that we were breaking the utopia the men had created in the living room, with their cigars & cigarettes. No kids were going to disrupt their digesting process, which of course, would inevitably lead to "the nap".
This is merely a sampling of what would happen every Christmas Eve and it pains me to face the reality that my & my brothers' children will never experience this unique, Italian-American experience. We've tried, over the years, to replicate the foods and the wine and the anisette and the laughs of those Christmas Eves, long ago, but there is something missing. The closeness of the sisters and the love they shared, and in turn, showered on their husbands and children, is gone.
Gone, but certainly not forgotten. As we passed into adolescence and young adulthood, Rose would handle the whole event!!! It was hard work and we would all contribute, but my Mother made sure she did her very best to continue the tradition of an Italian-American Christmas Eve. Marriage, divorce and relocation would further dilute the impact of a large family, living La Bella Vita on Christmas Eve. But one thing would never change; there was always fish at every Christmas Eve!!!!! And of course, we would always try and bring the family together, however fragmented we had become.
Losing my Mother in '06 was devastating on so many levels and still remains a path that I find hard to walk in her absence, but one thing always reminds us of who we are and our love of family and that is Christmas Eve. Whatever changes occur, whatever family members are missing, wherever we find ourselves on December 24th, the one thing that will always be renewed is the memories of a large Italian-American family, eating, drinking, laughing, arguing, hugging and kissing together. And for me, a slight woman, energized and doing the work of 10 people and loving every minute of it, would be the peace and joy I feel on this most joyous of Catholic Holidays!! She made Christmas Eve so memorable, so enjoyable, so filled with love that even though she wasn't around, she linked her boys together. All we had to do was simply recall the memories she perpetuated for us all those years ago.
Her last Christmas Eve was spent, surrounded by her adoring sons and loving husband, for one more chance to live La Bella Vita.. Lobster, mozzarella, pasta, meatballs, wine and plenty of love!!! It was bittersweet, knowing that this was the last time I would spend Christmas Eve with my wonderful Mother. Yet, knowing that I was there, with my brothers and my parents, together, the 5 of us, sharing Christmas Eve like we did when we were kids, gave me a strange sense of peace and tranquility, when I knew all too well, that Rose would soon find "her way home".
I don't feel the need to unwrap anything in a box for Christmas. For me, the best present I can receive, every year, is the endearing memory of spending Christmas Eve with my family, whether it was as an 8 year old at the kids table or with my loving, adoring Mother, as she faced her moment of truth. Every Christmas Eve is a gift, one never to be returned and one to be enjoyed and cherished, over and over again!
The smells of the food cooking, the sounds of the women in the kitchen, preparing a 7 course meal like a finely tuned assembly line, complete with meatballs, mozzarella & fennoccia. The courses came to the table in rapid fire. Dozens of hands armed with spoons, forks and knives would pierce braggioli, meatballs, sausage, calamari, antipasto, spaghetti, monicotti, ravioli and those were just the appetizers. There was an orgy of food, consisting of fish, fish and more fish. But for some reason, which remains a mystery to me to this day, I couldn't eat any type of seafood. I mean, I couldn't get it past that little hangy-ball thing in the back of my throat. I would have a gag reflex whenever something from the sea entered my mouth. I don't know how many times I was told, "it tastes just like chicken". Yeah, nice try. No shrimp swimming in garlic sauce is gonna taste just like chicken. But that didn't stop me from eating everything else, from nuts, to fruit, to lasagna, to ravioli, to turkey, to ham, to spaghetti & meatballs!!!
Feeling full? Well, leave room for dessert!!! After that cornucopia of Italian fish & pasta specialties, there would be the cheese cakes, the "svigiadell", cannoli, "pastachort", black coffee & anisette, and the part I loved the most, grandma's home made cookies!!!!
One of the enduring memories I have of these feeding frenzies, was that throughout all of the 7 courses of food, the men wouldn't leave the table nor clear a dish. No, the women would dutifully clean the plates and glasses and masterfully, "vacuum" all the bread crumbs with a brush gizmo from Fuller Brush, that to this day hasn't been replaced or improved upon!!! The men sat there, and would actually lean back in their chairs while the women would remove the many empty plates from in front of their stomachs, smugly asking for the next course of food! And after the last morsel was devoured and the last sip of anisette was savored, the men would retire to the living room, cigarettes or cigars at the ready. While the TV was turned on, us kids, antsy from sitting at the kids table for what seemed like weeks, would run around from room to room, chasing one another, screaming and laughing, oblivious to the fact that we were breaking the utopia the men had created in the living room, with their cigars & cigarettes. No kids were going to disrupt their digesting process, which of course, would inevitably lead to "the nap".
This is merely a sampling of what would happen every Christmas Eve and it pains me to face the reality that my & my brothers' children will never experience this unique, Italian-American experience. We've tried, over the years, to replicate the foods and the wine and the anisette and the laughs of those Christmas Eves, long ago, but there is something missing. The closeness of the sisters and the love they shared, and in turn, showered on their husbands and children, is gone.
Gone, but certainly not forgotten. As we passed into adolescence and young adulthood, Rose would handle the whole event!!! It was hard work and we would all contribute, but my Mother made sure she did her very best to continue the tradition of an Italian-American Christmas Eve. Marriage, divorce and relocation would further dilute the impact of a large family, living La Bella Vita on Christmas Eve. But one thing would never change; there was always fish at every Christmas Eve!!!!! And of course, we would always try and bring the family together, however fragmented we had become.
Losing my Mother in '06 was devastating on so many levels and still remains a path that I find hard to walk in her absence, but one thing always reminds us of who we are and our love of family and that is Christmas Eve. Whatever changes occur, whatever family members are missing, wherever we find ourselves on December 24th, the one thing that will always be renewed is the memories of a large Italian-American family, eating, drinking, laughing, arguing, hugging and kissing together. And for me, a slight woman, energized and doing the work of 10 people and loving every minute of it, would be the peace and joy I feel on this most joyous of Catholic Holidays!! She made Christmas Eve so memorable, so enjoyable, so filled with love that even though she wasn't around, she linked her boys together. All we had to do was simply recall the memories she perpetuated for us all those years ago.
Her last Christmas Eve was spent, surrounded by her adoring sons and loving husband, for one more chance to live La Bella Vita.. Lobster, mozzarella, pasta, meatballs, wine and plenty of love!!! It was bittersweet, knowing that this was the last time I would spend Christmas Eve with my wonderful Mother. Yet, knowing that I was there, with my brothers and my parents, together, the 5 of us, sharing Christmas Eve like we did when we were kids, gave me a strange sense of peace and tranquility, when I knew all too well, that Rose would soon find "her way home".
I don't feel the need to unwrap anything in a box for Christmas. For me, the best present I can receive, every year, is the endearing memory of spending Christmas Eve with my family, whether it was as an 8 year old at the kids table or with my loving, adoring Mother, as she faced her moment of truth. Every Christmas Eve is a gift, one never to be returned and one to be enjoyed and cherished, over and over again!
