By Tony Traficante, ISDA Contributing Editor
Her day usually started early in the morning, at about 5 a.m. On Sundays, we were awakened by the melodious sounds of clamoring pots. Yep, Mom had already started the sauce; it would simmer for hours, and she’d make enough to last for weeks.
At 8 a.m, with a babushka wrapped around her head, she dashed off to an early Mass.
Once a week, she baked her delicious bread and pies. Our favorites were the “pichaladit,” rolls made with anise seeds, quickly doused in boiling water, then baked. The aromas of her baking were heavenly, escaping from the house to seduce the neighbors.
Monday’s were wash days. She dragged her heavy oblong copper tub, placed it on a two-burner stand, and soaked the whites in scalding water.
Mom created her own brand of soap detergent made from chips of a Fels-Naphtha soap bar. After allowing the sheets to boil for a while, she pulled them out with a long wooden spatula and placed them in the washer. When she hung them out on the line to dry, they were as white as snow.
Mom cleaned the house on other days of the week, and on a seasonal basis she washed the room walls. I helped, and thankfully we only had a small five-room home! Of course, the dust mostly came from our coal and wood-burning furnace.
We didn’t always have a TV, so in the evenings we listened to the radio. Mom’s hands had to be busy. She just couldn’t sit around, so she either crocheted or knitted. Her products were in demand, mainly afghans, baby blankets and doilies. They made great wedding, baptism and birthday gifts.
Amid all else she had to do, Mom had to study and prepare for a citizenship exam. For weeks, my siblings and I helped her with the questions and answers. Her pronunciation of some of them, however, was a “hoot.”
We really shouldn’t have laughed, but as kids, we couldn’t help it. But Mom laughed with us. For example, whenever the word loyalty appeared, she pronounced it as “oilty.” Despite it all, she passed!
Mom was a gentle soul, always ready to give a hand to anyone who asked for help. She had a unique talent, a blessing in disguise. Mom was often called on to relieve those cursed with the Mal’Occhio.
Many came knocking on our door begging for relief. As much as she did not enjoy performing these rituals, she never turned anyone away. It visibly took a toll on her. I would often see tears in her eyes after the proceedings.
She often declared she would no longer do these rituals. But, when the next knock came, she could not refuse them.
Mom often complained she did not understand why “Il Dio” gave her such a spiritual gift? “Io che non riesco a leggere o scrivere,” I who can’t even write or read!
I would say to her, “Mamma, forse è per questo che il Signore ti ha dotato di questo dono eccezionale?” Mom, maybe it is for this reason why the Lord endowed you with this exceptional gift!
In the end, it was Mom who was the gift — a gentle soul filled with grace and love who labored day and night to provide a good life for her family.
Happy Mother’s Day to our beloved madri and nonne!
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