While going about my business in the bathroom this afternoon, I heard nonna give out a scream/gasp from the kitchen. Being that nonna is rather stoic, I found this to be fairly unusual, so I went to see what all the fuss was about. When I found her she was staring intently at a piece of paper. My immediate assumption was that we had won the lottery (don't ask). It was something nonno and I often talked about, this winning the lottery thing. The chances were slim but if we were lucky enough we could win a good chunk of change and buy the Bentley we always dreamed of. I could even hire a driver and afford to have children before 30. Life would be great, so I asked her.
"Did we win the lottery?"
I was serious. Because the way she expressed confusion and surprise in those moments led me to believe that something big happened. But instead of responding to my question she said,
"2.99 for cauliflower?"
It was a receipt. She was looking at a damn Waldbaums receipt, of course she was. That’s what they all did at my house. It’s a tradition for nonna and her sisters to gather at my house once a week, sit at the kitchen table, and have a serious meeting about the sales at the local supermarkets. During these meetings they also decide who is going to buy what at which supermarket, and who is going to pay whom back.
“I will buy the fish at Waldbaums and you will buy the strawberries at Associated,” is how it usually goes. This makes it easy for my family to get food on the table as quickly as possible. No one has to make trips to multiple supermarkets. And people wonder how us immigrants manage to get by so well. It’s not how much you make, it’s how much you save. Why do you think I still drive around in a used car with scratches along the side? Not for long.
It’s simply the way things work in an Italian household where people grew up eating bread with olive oil for dinner. Your great uncle freezes his ass off while fishing on the Crossbay Bridge and while that is happening someone else is hunting bears and deer in the country. How else would we be able to feast like animals on Sundays? It’s almost like we’re running a commune over here. We gather together and share all of our resources. It is how we have managed to survive so well all of these generations. The aunt watches the niece while the grandma is working the night shift at the airport and once the grandma makes enough money she sends some to the family in Italy.
This may sound sweet to you but it isn't always easy. There is a lot of fighting involved. Well, I don't know if it is exactly fighting. Italians speak so loud it's difficult to tell the difference. I don't even know why they argue to be honest. It always comes out of nowhere. One remark from one sister and the other is flying off the handle. It could be as simple as this.
"Your daughter didn't give me a kiss on the cheek when she saw me."
"Ahhh, are you saying my daughter has no respect? Are you saying I didn't raise her right? Your daughter didn't lift a finger after dinner last Sunday."
"You are both crazy, you and your daughter."
"Did you drink today?"
Maybe I'm exaggerating but it is all pretty random if you ask me. Anyway, I'm done here. I'm going to hide the new overpriced straightening/curling iron I bought today before nonna finds it and complains that I spend money on nonsense. Which all of us young Americans do, right?
Arrivaderci!
xox Bianca
