Famiglia di DiSalvo

Every family has its secrets, some more than others, some not at all. Being a part of an Italian family means that those secrets are multiplied. Everything and everyone is involved in your business, there is no thing kept private. In my case I have had the misfortune of the side of the family that isn't Italian, marrying Italian. Just in the count of first cousins I have 16, one who passed away in his youth. Each of my parents and grandparents had a number of siblings and children and so the size of my family is incredible. For us all to be involved then is almost a phenomenon.

Though things of the past have come forward over the years a secret was divulged to me that truly shocked me. My great grandparents came through Ellis Island to live in New York City during the 1930's. My grandmother was born here but her sister, Alma, was born back in their village. I had been raised with the knowledge that they grew up in the Bronx, each married well and had children of their own, however they never had a close relationship.

This past weekend I drove up to Phoenix as my grandmother flew in from North Carolina. Her sister at the age of 82 is slowly dying from dimensia. A horrible illness to say the least. My grandmother and I have always been very close, even from childhood she always treated me as a confidant, there was no family rumor that she didn't share with me. As we were each finishing our coffee and getting ready to go and see her sister for the first time she looked rather upset. I asked her if she was alright, and without any provocation she proceeded to tell me that she didn't know if Alma was in fact her whole sister. Something she'd never told another soul.

After my great grandfather served in WW1 he began to travel back and forth from New York. He came to the land of opportunity looking for work and a new life for himself and his young wife. He would work in the states for a year and then go back to Italy to see her and his family. But the last time he came home she had had a child. My grandmother says that her mother was beautiful, and was always admired for her looks in the village. When my nono came home and discovered a baby he could not believe that she could be his. As a good husband and caring father, he never pushed the matter and proceeded to bring them to America. Here my grandmother was born, and he knew without doubt that she was his.

As they grew older Alma was often ill, and weak spirited. Where as my grandmother was hell on wheels. There is no force on earth that could stop her from something she has in mind, just like my great grandfather. She told me that he used to say to her, "tu sei mi figlia, lei non é da me." (You are my family, she is not like me). He was convinced that because her social behavior was so different from his own that she must not truly be his daughter.

When I was a child my great grandfather, or nono, lived with us. He was 96 when he passed away and remember him more from photographs than actual memory. However, when we walked into that nursing home and saw her sitting there it was like looking at his face. Same nose, same eyes, same hair. Within seconds my grandmother broke down in tears, I think for the first time in her life she knew for 100% that this was really her sister.

Melody DiSalvo