January 19, 2008

40 Things in the Life of an Italian Child

Even though my mom was 100% German, she almost literally became an Italian when she married my dad. I can't think of one "German" thing about her except some of her recipes and her stubborn will. (But that's an Italian trait too, isn't it?) As a result, I hardly ever think of myself as being German/Italian. I am "Italian".
This list brought back so many childhood memories for me! I had to laugh out loud when I read the one about the male relatives being named Tony, Frank, Joe, or Louie. My dad's name was Frank, I had a Grandpa Tony, I have a brother named Tony, and another brother named Frank Joseph. I'm not sure where this list originated, but thought it would be fun to share with you:

40 things in the Life of an Italian Child

You have at least one relative who wore a black dress every day for an entire year after a funeral.
You spent your entire childhood thinking what you ate for lunch was pronounced "sangwich."
Your family dog understood Italian.
Every Sunday afternoon of your childhood was spent visiting your grandparents and extended family.
You've experienced the phenomena of 150 people fitting into 50 square feet of yard during a family cookout.
You were surprised to discover the FDA recommends you eat three meals a day, not seven.
You thought killing the pig each year and having salami, capacollo, pancetta and prosciutto hanging out to dry from your shed ceiling was absolutely normal.
You ate pasta for dinner at least three times a week, and every Sunday.
You grew up thinking no fruit or vegetable had a fixed price and that the price of everything was negotiable through haggling.
You were as tall as your grandmother by the age of seven.
You thought everyone's last name ended in a vowel.
You thought nylons were supposed to be worn rolled to the ankles.
Your mom's main hobby is cleaning.
You were surprised to find out that wine was actually sold in stores.
You thought that everyone made their own tomato sauce.
You never ate meat on Christmas Eve or any Friday for that matter.
You ate your salad after the main course.
You thought Catholic was the only religion in the world.
You were beaten at least once with a wooden spoon or broom.
You thought every meal had to be eaten with a hunk of bread in your left hand.
You can understand Italian but you can't speak it.
You have at least one relative who came over on the boat.
All of your uncles fought in a World War.
You have at least six male relatives named Tony, Frank, Joe or Louie.
You have relatives who aren't really your relatives.
You have relatives you don't speak to.
You drank wine before you were a teenager.
You relate on some level, admit it, to the Godfather and the Sopranos.
You grew up in a house with a yard that didn't have one patch of dirt that didn't have a flower or a vegetable growing out of it.
Your grandparent's furniture was as comfortable as sitting on plastic. Wait!!!! You were sitting on plastic.
You thought that talking loud was normal.
You thought sugared almonds and the Tarantella were common at all weddings.
You thought everyone got pinched on the cheeks and had money stuffed in their pockets by their relatives.
Your mother is overly protective of the males in the family no matter what their age.
There was a crucifix in every room of the house,
You couldn't date a boy without getting approval from your father. (oh, and he has to be Italian)
You called pasta "macaroni".
You dreaded taking out your lunch at school.
Going out for a cup of coffee usually meant going out for a cup of coffee over Zia's house.
Every condition, ailment, misfortune, memory loss and accident was attributed to the fact that you didn't eat something.

1 comment:

  1. Very cute! I'm so glad you grew up surrounded by culture and a sense of where you come from. :-)


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