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.

My mother, Pasqualina Cesario, was born in 1931 in a small town in Calabria called San Fili. Her family was poor and worked in the mountainous fields as farmers. She told me that those shoes were a gift from relatives in “America”. Gifts from America were cherished. She loved those shoes and kept them clean to ensure they would last and last. She wasn’t used to getting many gifts.

In this photo, my grandmother’s shoes are badly worn. This was post-war Italy and although the war was over, times were still very tough. Work and food were scarce. These women learned how to make do with what they had, and understood the word sacrifice to mean giving up part of your own dreams for the good of others.

Since Pasqualina was a girl, it was believed that she didn’t need an education. My mother was crushed. She loved school, but kept the disappointment to herself. She became the ‘master of the house’ at a very young age. She recalls watching her younger brothers while making supper for the whole family.

A young child herself, she had to sacrifice her own childhood for the good of the family. She understood this and accepted it without resentment, something I could not imagine doing.

The post A Walk In Her Shoes – Pasqualina Mustacato first appeared on Panoram Italia.

By Emma (Turri) Rantucci for Transformations – My father, Pietro Turri, was born on January 29, 1903 in Pontecosi, Toscana, Italy to Olinto and Isolina Turri (nee Valdrighi). He married my mother, Esterina Gragnani, then lived with his parents, operating a large farm with every type of fruit, vegetable and livestock. My mother was the daughter of Pietro Gragnani and Annunciata Guidi, also from Pontecosi.

Dad always wanted to join his brother, Sam Turri and sister, Clelia Martinelli who arrived in Kelowna, British Columbia in approximately 1911 and 1915, respectively.

When the Second World War broke out in 1939, my family underwent many life-threatening trials and tribulations as enemies occupied part of our home and stole most of our livestock. During that time, Pietro and his brother-in-law hid in a huge, dried-out chestnut stump to avoid being captured and sent to a concentration camp. Dad had “engineered” this refuggio (underground shelter) to keep us all safe.

 While under there, Pietro had an appendicitis attack and was brought to the local hospital for surgery. During the procedure, due to enemy bombing, the power went out, so the doctor had to carry on without lights or anesthetic.

 After the brutal war, Dad was even more anxious to immigrate to Canada, but he would not leave his aging parents alone. In 1948, the Capozzi family visited our family. “Cap” Capozzi, who had become a successful entrepreneur in Kelowna, guaranteed Pietro work on the Calona Wines vineyard on Black Mountain.

 Pietro’s mother, Isolina, died in 1949 and so Pietro made a legal agreement with his sister, Amerisa, to take care of their father, Olinto, now over 80 years old. Most immigrants at that time, were accepted as single men to work mostly as manual labourers. But Pietro would not leave unless his whole family of four was accepted. When we came, we were the only family travelling on the ocean liner Vulcania.

In early 1952, we arrived in Halifax and travelled by train across the wintery prairies — what a shock! At 48 years of age and not knowing a word of English, Pietro achieved his dream and set foot on “the promising land” that he believed would give his family the opportunity for a better and safer life.

For the first year, Pietro worked for the Capozzis on the Black Mountain vineyard. The rest of the family worked at Casa Loma Orchards, picking peaches. The following year, an Italian orchardist offered Pietro a job at Summerland, and so the family followed him there and also worked in the orchard.

The post Immigrating To Canada For A Safer Life first appeared on Panoram Italia.