I had Italian grandparents. My father's mother kept a few chickens as pets and if one got sick she would operate on it to restore it to health. Supposedly, it swallowed something too big and it got stuck. So she would operate to remove it. My father's father worked for Remington Arms. When I was a baby they handed me over to him and I cried like a baby. And I remember it because it was a frightening experience!! He said, "Make my day!" (Just kidding.)
My mother's mother was always thinking of others. When people visited she would worry that they might be hungry and she would offer them fruit, usually a banana. She was always thinking of those she left behind in Sicily and would send packages of clothing etc.. My mother's father was a sulfur miner in Sicily and worked in coal mines when he came to the U.S.. In order to save enough money to send for his family, he slept in railroad boxcars for a period of time. When he got older he started his own business as a sidewalk vendor and it worked out well. He was a great story teller. He would tell stories in Italian and my mother would translate it for me after he finished.
And, yes, he was the "old guy sleeping on the couch."
|