![]() From the Italian flag in the corner next to the United States flag to the countless Italian bric-a-brac and heirlooms adorning shelves, nooks, and crannies, our home speaks, “We are proud ‘paesani.’” Today, we bleed green, white, and red in our home, just the way I did growing up in Louisiana-a stronghold for Italians even today, thanks to the port of New Orleans. My mother was Sicilian (Alese to be exact), and my father was Foggiano (Cagnese). Welcome to living under the influence of Italians and the love of all things Italy-Club Italophile. Heck, I’ve seen people with one percent or no percent Italian in their bloodlines who express love and pride for things Italian as if they were native Italian. The funny thing is, you don’t have to be 100 percent Italian to be considered Italian. I not only have the DNA tests to prove it, but also one has only to give a quick glance at the first four generations of my family surnames (Pizzillo, Miceli, DiNauta, D’Ippolito, Sedita, Benvenga, Lombardi, Garone). Both of my parents are 100 percent Italian. I’m a second-generation Italian American. ![]() I’ve grown up under the influence of Italians all my life. October is Italian Heritage Month in the United States. They exiled their royal family and became a republic. It commemorates the day in 1946 when Italians voted to do away with their monarchy. June 2 is a national holiday in Italy known as the Festival of the Republic (Festa della Repubblica). My wife has now conceded to being an Italophile. Why, America itself owes its very name to an Italian, Amerigo Vespucci. They often remind my wife-invited or not-how she is the continual beneficiary of Italians: fine clothes, food, entertainment, furniture, lifestyle. My children, although only 50 percent Italian, are fiercely loyal to and proud of their Italian heritage. I'm getting tired now.will catch-up with you tomorrow, or the following day with the 1978 version.“Oh my goodness! It’s just a little sliver of a country! Where does all the nauseating Italian pride come from?!” my Anglo-Saxon wife of 30 years often expresses incredulously in our home. I have no agenda.except to show those who are interested, how a first-generation Italian-American viewed the World in the 20th century.and most importantly, to keep my brain creating for as long as I can. I am going to blog (if blog is the proper expression) both versions: first the 1978 version, which appears many, many times as Author Anonymous with slight variations by the contributors, and, of course, by others who actually claim they are the authors. and it contains, positively all my experiences. The facts, words and phrases are exactly the same, except it is written in the first gender. However, in 2005 (when it seemed as if nothing was considered shameless anymore), I revised it and made it totally my story. Therefore, in order to avoid mention of an ex-husband, I wrote it as if my son wrote it. I was a divorcee.and it was treated very scandallously and sometimes with dire circumstances for instance, you could not get employment. But there was, a part of my life, I tried very hard to keep it a secret. When I wrote The Joy of Growing-up Italian in 1968, with some revisions in 1978, it was my memories. I am not happy to keep harping about my essay, but I find it has created a bombshell among some who claim authorship, that I find it necessary to be assertive and defend what is mine.
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