GRANDMA GRECCO
GRANDMA
GRECCO
One of my fondest memories of my childhood was the times I
spent with my maternal Grandmother Grecco.
She had a kind and generous heart, full of love. I don’t remember ever hearing her rising her
voice or arguing. This dear soul could
be seen carrying her rosaries while praying.
She had this beautiful large statue of the Blessed Mother of God under a
glass dome in her bedroom.
Until I became 15 years old we spent Christmas Day at my
grandparents’ home with the rest of their children six in all and their
families. When I arrived the smells
coming from the kitchen just permeated throughout the house that was filled
with happy chatter and children playing.
The Italian sausage would be frying, the meatballs being made and the
mouth watering tomato sauce would simmer on the stove where the rich aroma of
garlic and parsley could not be ignored.
I always could count on my grandmother to break a piece of crusty
Italian bread off and dip it in the cooking sauce for me to eat and the now
cooked meatballs would be given to me to taste, that were ooh so delicious. I was lucky she was the best.
The dining room although small had one long mahogany table
where all the adults sat and a second table for us grandchildren. I being the oldest grandchild though in my
teens always sat at the kids table there never was any space to graduate to the
adult table.
I was blessed to spend many weekends with my grandma
growing up. Being there with her made me
happy and I could always be myself with her. I was the granddaughter with the pretty knees
and she would always say Leanda, Leanda (this was her way of pronouncing my
name Linda) sing for me. On those
weekends we would enviable go to the local Italian market where one could see
and smell aged cheese hanging from ceiling along with many varieties of smoked
sausages. The owner knew my grandma well
and I was given tastes of delicious lunch meats as I picked out what I wanted
for lunch. After my grandma was done
telling the owner what she wanted we would leave and the groceries were later
delivered to the house. We spent time outdoors
as she watched me play. She taught me
how to harvest dandelions, a green vegetable that grows wild. She loved to cook and we spent many hours in
the kitchen. Italian life revolved in
those days around the warm cozy kitchen where there was always something
cooking or being baked. I would peel apples
for pie and help bake cookies. Life was
simpler and I was privileged to be born at a time to be a part of it.
MY COMMENTARY:
The wonder life of my grandmother was a special gift to me
from God. She came from Calabria, Italy
enter USA per Ellis Island and lived in New York City for a time before
migrating to New Jersey with my grandfather.
All six of her children were born in the USA and my mother being the
eldest.
My grandmother being obese asked me when I would visit to
wash her feet. She would fill a large tub
and put her feet in. I never understood
why she wanted me to wash them, which I was happy to do; they were always so
clean and I could see her veins through her translucent skin.
I did not fulfill her constant request for me to marry a
“NICE” Italian boy I can’t even remember ever dating one. However, I always did remember when I visited
her after I was married to make her favorite gingerbread cake plain without icing.
Grandma, “my knees have gotten old and somewhat flabby and
my voice cracks when I sing but somehow I think you wouldn't have minded as you
ask me to sing.” “I love and miss you grandma for the many treasure memories no
one can ever take from me…I miss you.”
©Linda Mary Liotino ME A SERVANT OF CHRIST MISSION
2014
©Photograph taken by my mother, in the summer of 1947 of me
and grandma, I was a year old…
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