{"id":2064,"date":"2013-10-01T16:42:09","date_gmt":"2013-10-01T14:42:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/rickzullo.com\/?p=2064"},"modified":"2021-11-12T21:49:57","modified_gmt":"2021-11-12T20:49:57","slug":"celebrating-italian-american-heritage-month","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/celebrating-italian-american-heritage-month\/","title":{"rendered":"Celebrating Italian American Heritage Month"},"content":{"rendered":"

In honor of Italian American heritage month<\/a>, I’ve invited a friend of mine from California, Victoria De Maio, to write a guest post about what it\u2019s like to be Italian.<\/p>\n

Uh-oh.\u00a0 After my controversial post last week<\/a>, I can already hear the rumblings of more heated debate in the making.\u00a0 Well, no, she\u2019s not actually Italian\u2014she\u2019s Italian-American, like me.\u00a0 But it\u2019s a well-known phenomenon that most of us Italian-Americans simply refer to ourselves as \u201cItalian,\u201d even if we don\u2019t speak the language or have ever stepped foot inside the \u201cOld Country.\u201d\u00a0 (For the record, Victoria travels to Italy often and knows the landscape quite well.)\u00a0 I don\u2019t have any hard stats to back me up, but I would say that this sense of pride in our cultural heritage is stronger among Italian-Americans than any other ethnic group in the United States.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m grateful that Victoria wrote this piece for my blog because, to be honest, I think I’ve sort of lost touch with what it means to be Italian-American.\u00a0 Nothing will cure an Italian-American of feeling \u201cItalian\u201d so much as living in Italy for a couple of years.\u00a0 Yes, I was raised amid a big Italian-American family, too.\u00a0 \u00a0But after a few years in Rome I now realize that, culturally, I have always had more in common with America\u2019s Puritan forefathers than my own Calabresi and Molisani ancestors.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

But what\u2019s really interesting to me (and at the same time perplexing to native-born Italians, like my wife) is this feeling of extreme pride in our D.N.A.\u00a0 \u00a0Indeed, it wouldn’t be totally inaccurate to suggest that, as a group, Italian-Americans are often more delighted with their perceived \u201cItalian-ness\u201d than many Italians I know\u2014especially since this adjective means two completely different things to the two different populations. \u00a0(Uh-oh, more controversy)<\/p>\n

Victoria\u2019s piece opens with a lovely quote by Robert Browning\u2026 who, notably, is not an Italian.\u00a0 Instead, I\u2019ll offer a counter-quote by Beppe Severgnini, who indeed is very Italian.\u00a0 Severgnini proclaims that, \u201cYour Italy and our Italia are not the same thing.\u00a0 This is not the sort of country that\u2019s easy to explain.\u00a0 Particularly when you pack a few fantasies in your baggage and Customs lets them through.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Such is the difference in perspective.\u00a0 I suppose that much of what we take away from an experience depends on what we brought with us in the first place.\u00a0 And it\u2019s plain to see that Victoria brings an honest, heart-felt affection for Italy and her Italian roots.<\/p>\n

I hope you all enjoy her story as much as I did.\u00a0 I’ve encountered many people with similar memories of their upbringing, but Victoria has put it beautifully into words with many perfect examples of what it is like to grow up in this lively, colorful environment. Great photos, too.\u00a0 Enjoy!<\/p>\n

On Being Italian!<\/i><\/b><\/h2>\n

\u201cOpen my heart and you will see graved inside of it, Italy.\u201d <\/b><\/i>–Robert Browning<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\"Carmelo<\/a><\/p>\n

Drama! Emotion! Passion!<\/i> The gesturing and waving of arms! The raising of eyebrows and the shrugging of shoulders! No soft undertones or measured words, no discreet glances… Everyone talking at once! Everyone trying to talk louder than everyone else! Everyone interrupting everyone else! No shades of gray here! Everyone has an opinion about pretty much everything and you are going to hear it!\u00a0 A soap opera? A movie? The opera? A play? Heavens, no. \u00a0Just life growing up in an Italian family!<\/p>\n

And growing up in an Italian family, I pretty much took all of this for granted. I didn\u2019t think about \u201cbeing Italian.\u201d\u00a0 Didn\u2019t everyone have coffee (with lots of milk) and a sweet for breakfast? Didn\u2019t everyone display their emotions and express their opinions freely? Didn\u2019t everyone pretty much have a home life like we did? Over the years I realized that, of course, they didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

We lived in a small town (at the time), Napa, and there were quite a few Italians there. My parents spoke Italian to each other and like so many of my generation (boomers), sadly we were never taught the language (except for mangia, a letto, basta <\/i>and a few other commands!).\u00a0 Of course, even as a child I could interpret a lot from the very expressive tone, volume and gestures (facial and hand!).<\/p>\n

\"Italian<\/a>
Growing up “Italian” was all I ever knew – the memories are sweet.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

There was a generation of Italian old-timers in Napa, including my grandfather, who never learned English but worked hard \u2013 most often with their hands. They tended their little vegetable garden, made a little vino<\/i>, smoked their pipes, played a little bocce, rarely learned to drive, wore those classic suspendered pants and a fedora, and loved their families.<\/p>\n

We were a rather small family and although most of the families in my neighborhood and most classmates weren’t Italian, I never thought about it much. I never knew that my dad was discriminated against at work (subtle, but nonetheless…). Even after traveling to Italy for the first time in my twenties, I loved it, but I still didn\u2019t get<\/i> how much it meant to me to be<\/i> Italian. That took another 20+ years (please, don\u2019t do the math, OK?).<\/p>\n

When I decided that\u00a0 it was time to go back to Italy, and since no friends or family were going to join me, I signed up for a terrific tour. I\u2019m not sure why, but landing in Rome and setting foot in Italy after a long absence, I wondered why in the world it had taken me so long to come back.<\/p>\n

\"Italians
Looking back…with great love & gratitude.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Well, despite that, it still took another five years to get back, then another five and by this time, I had lost both of my parents. My father had wanted to make a return visit to Sicily and we were going to go together but it never happened. That\u2019s when I knew I had<\/i> to go to Sicily… and finally I just got it!<\/i> I understood that thread of DNA, the roots that run so deep. I understood him more, I understood me more<\/i>. Not just understood, but embraced. I had a new respect and gratitude for all of my grandparents who I barely or never knew who came here with so little but with hopes and hands ready to work… and I got what it meant to love a place so much… to miss it every day… and to feel like you really have arrived \u201chome.\u201d<\/p>\n

That\u2019s Italy for me… my passion, my heart\u2019s home. Oh, she has her critics and detractors, but her allure is inarguable. She touches everyone who visits her. There\u2019s just that certain undeniable something <\/i>that fascinates us. La bella figura? La dolce vita? Spezzato?<\/i> Is it that sense of style in everything from a Ferrari to the way fruit is arranged in the market? Is it that unmistakable sensuality and love of beauty? Or is it that gorgeous melodic language? Or, the passion and romance that seems to permeate everything and enthralls us?<\/p>\n

For me, si<\/i>… all of that and something more… it\u2019s something that comes from the heart that… well, it\u2019s like being in love \u2013 it is<\/i> being in love…<\/p>\n

\"italian
Nonno, how can I ever thank you?<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Oh, I don\u2019t know the name of every type of pasta or every region, I don\u2019t know every custom or historic detail and I\u2019ve taken Italian language classes more times than I can count (and I\u2019m still not even close to conversant, much less fluent). It used to bother me, but not anymore. No matter, I will always be 100% Italian and I let my heart and my love of being Italian speak for me.<\/p>\n

\"Victoria<\/a>
Victoria De Maio<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

About Victoria and Postcards from Travel PiZazz<\/b><\/p>\n

Victoria De Maio, travel consultant, blogger, and writer who loves sharing her passion for travel – especially travel to Italy! \u00a0On her blog, Postcards from Travel PiZazz, she offers no-nonsense travel tips, advice, insights and inspiration \u2013 with a lighthearted twist.\u00a0 And\u00a0<\/i>she offers the opportunity to travel with her to Italy (Puglia and Umbria in 2014 for starters!)<\/p>\n

To read more about her story, click over to her blog on:\u00a0Postcards from Travel PiZazz<\/a>.\u00a0\u00a0Or you can also contact her directly:\u00a0postcardsfromtravelpizazz@gmail.com<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

In honor of Italian American heritage month, I’ve invited a friend of mine from California, Victoria De Maio, to write a guest post about what it\u2019s like to be Italian. Uh-oh.\u00a0 After my controversial post last week, I can already hear the rumblings of more heated debate in the making.\u00a0 Well, no, she\u2019s not actually […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2072,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[451,42,5],"tags":[49,48],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2064"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2064"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2064\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2072"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2064"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2064"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2064"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}