While growing up, the major influences on my thinking were my Italian grandparents (nonni), Silvio Sacco and Lidia (Pichelli) Sacco. With their young family, they immigrated to Canada in June of 1958 and settled in Welland, Ontario. My father was only eighteen months old at the time. My nonni left their home and farm in Colledara, in the province of Teramo, Abruzzo, to forge a better life for themselves and their young family.

These three cousins grew up in a suburb of Rome. When my cousins walked into my nonni’s house for the first time, they were in awe of what a ‘blast from the past’ their home was. Good thing we had long since removed the protective plastic covering from the couches! What my Italian cousins saw was a family who left Italy in the late 1950’s trying to preserve their identity in whatever way they could. Among their observations were:

“They still make their own wine?”

“Wow, look how big this garden is!”

“This cantina has everything! Look at that prosciutto hanging and all this sauce!”

“They make their own cheese? Che figo! (Cool!)”

Little did they know how difficult (read ‘not entirely legal’) it was to get unpasteurized milk in Ontario in order to make this cool cheese.

All these things seemed normal to me and any other Italian-Canadian person I knew, but speaking with my cousins, it became clear that these practices were more of a history lesson and something to cherish. Italian culture and lifestyles continued to evolve over time, however, to those who left in the 1950’s to start a new life in a very different country, holding on to these traditions was something that felt comfortable, familiar and safe, while living so far from their native land.

The post LIVING IN A 1950’S ITALIAN TIME CAPSULE first appeared on Panoram Italia.

Maria’s journey began like those of many postwar Italian immigrant women, with paperwork to complete and a train ride (often three to four hours in length) to a port of departure, in Maria’s case, Genova.

The paperwork typically had to be completed in Rome. Stay restrictions were often imposed: candidates needed a sponsor, concrete work contract, and a marriage proposal to be fulfilled within six months of arriving in Canada. Marriages were commonly planned before departure, and church weddings usually performed within one month of arrival in Canada.

Maria arrived in Genova on November 15, 1956 and after two days of waiting nervously (on the morning of November 17,) she boarded the SS Constitution bound for New York City. Maria’s mother and sisters were loath to say goodbye to the youngest of their family, and cried profusely on taking their leave of her. Looking back on the episode, Maria reflects that, “Quando sei giovane non pensi tante cose (When you’re young, you don’t think of such things too deeply”).

Alone and forlorn, Maria handed over to the crew and stored on board both her piece of luggage and the trunk carrying her “corredo”. “The horn blew, the gates were shut and I cried. I would have stepped off the ship if I could have.” Maria wasn’t afraid of the voyage; as a solo voyager whose contact with others was minimal, she was simply sad and lonely. As Maria puts it, “C’erano altre ragazze che non volevano che io stessi insieme a loro (There were other girls who didn’t want me to be with them).”

After a turbulent, seasickness-inducing transatlantic passage, Maria arrived in New York City in the early morning hours of November 28, 1956, with her documentation and promissory note of marriage in hand.

Being chaperoned was protocol for unmarried women landing in North America at that time. Maria and the other single women were escorted to what Maria described as a “special train” because it held only (those) immigrants destined for Toronto. The train departed at 8pm and arrived at Union Station at 7am the next day.

On December 22, 1956 – within one month of arriving in Canada – Maria married her betrothed, Diano (Mario) Chiaradia. Women immigrating to Canada from Italy in those years typically came for one of two reasons: to find work or to fulfill a promise of marriage. Maria had achieved the latter.

“Da sempre ho conosciuto Diano (I have always known Diano).” Maria admits that Diano loved her more than she loved him, yet their marriage of 62 years produced a son (Renato), a daughter-in-law (Paola) and two deeply-loved grandchildren (Siena and Stefan).

Unlike some of her fellow immigrants, Maria quickly accepted the Canadian grocery-shopping experience and neither complained about it nor compared it unfavourably to that of Italy. She first shopped at the original Longo’s location at Yonge and Castlefield, where a chicken for soup stock could be purchased for 25 cents.

Within five months – in early May, 1957 – Maria found work. She was variously employed as a clerk at a dry cleaner, on an assembly line at a toy factory, at a wool factory (that in her experience was less welcoming to Italians), and at a Canadian Tire store.

During her first five years in Canada, letters were Maria’s only connection to her homeland (means of correspondence). Then, for the first time, she was able to return home to Italy.

“Allora la vita scorre più facile, non hai pensieri; più serena; fatto così tante ragazze. (As life became easier, I worried less about everything. I made lots of friends).”

While Maria embraced a new land, a new home, a new name and a new language, her longing for her homeland never abated: “Desideravo sempre ritornare in Italia.”

The post The Story of Maria Chiaradia née Ros first appeared on Panoram Italia.