About
“In Italy, for 30 years under the Borgias, they had warfare, terror, murder and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, they had 500 years of democracy and peace – and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.” – Orson Welles, American actor, director, writer
Italy – My Happy Place
Thanksgiving, Italian style, Arthur Ave.
It all started when I was about 5 years old, when my great uncle Guglielmo came to the U.S. to visit us at our small apartment on Arthur Avenue, yes THE Arthur Avenue in the Little Italy of the Bronx. “How can you possibly live here,” he said to my father, “so far away from your family?”
I guess that’s all it took to convince him to move back to Italy because before I knew it, my parents were throwing out all “unnecessary” things, including my favorite toys, and gave away my pet, Chiquita, whom we thought was a chicken when we got it as a baby chick but then woke us up one morning at the crack of dawn, cock-a-doodling!
Me with “Chiquita”
I remember standing in front of the building I lived in, going through our garbage, looking for whatever I thought was important, in other words my dolls and Archie comics, so that I could hide them without my parents knowing (what did I know – I was a 5 year old kid. Even that small apartment looked immense to me so I figured there had to be someplace to hide my stash without my parents ever finding it!).
A few months later, I found myself getting ready to embark on what was to be a life-changing experience, something that would affect me for the rest of my life. I, along with my parents and my older brother Bill, whose real name is Guilherme, which is the Portuguese name for Guglielmo (yes, he was named after my great uncle, but he was born in Brazil, like my mother, so she wrote his name down in Portuguese on the birth certificate, but I digress…), got into a yellow taxi and headed for the NYC port, where we began our voyage across the Atlantic on a ship called Cristoforo Colombo.
And my life has never been the same…
Mom and me onboard the Cristoforo Colombo
The transatlantic oceanliner, Cristoforo Colombo, sister ship to the Andrea Doria
I was born in a small town called PITIGLIANO (Grosseto), Italy
I live in the US but my heart is in Italy.
Hi Marina, I’ve never been to Pitigliano but it is on my list to visit. I’ve seen photos of the town and I’ve read about it. Hopefully I can see it in person soon! And yes, I understand about your heart being in Italy!
Hi! From the Lovecchio’s. Happy to find your blog. Relived some memories with our Mom. Thanks
Hi, I’m glad you enjoyed my blog. I will contact you directly through your email address.
My husbands grandparents came to the Bronx from Selvacava. John and Mary Barile. We have never been there but would really love to some day.
The last name sounds familiar. If they belonged to the club Societa di Selvacava in the Bronx then I probably even met them when I was little!
Yes, I remember Mario DeBellis as he lived on the same street as we did in the Bronx on Hering Avenue. We had the same last name but not direct relations (I am sure somewhere long ago there is a connection). I remember my husband and I almost bought his car when we were first married.
Who was your dad, I wonder if I knew him.
When was the last time you visited Selvacava?
Oh my God, we lived on Lurting Avenue, not too far from Hering! My father was Michele Piccolino. I try to go to Selvacava every year.
I am blown away coming across your site. I was born in Selvacava and came to America on the Christopher Columbus back in the 50’s. We shopped on Arthur Ave every Friday even though we had to take the 3rd Ave el from the south Bronx . We had to go to la marketa to get our cold cuts and meats, tomatoes to jar in the fall, eggplants to marinate, pastries for Sunday after we had ragu or gravy. Thank you for the incredible walk back into my childhood. By the way the picture you have in Selvacava , one of the alleyways is via Fieri which is the house where I was born. Grazie, Giulia DeBellis
Wow, what a small world! I remember the el and some of those markets are still there. My father knew someone named Antonio DeBellis. Any relation?
Not sure it is the same person but my father , Girolamo, had three brothers, Antonio (uncle Tony), Nicola, (uncle Nick) and Giuseppe (uncle Joe) and uncle Giulio whom we lost during WWII. He also had two sisters, Giuseppina and MariaAntonia. Perhaps your dad remembers the part of town my father’s family lived called “le’doro” with my grandfather Francisco and my American born grandmother Mary Ferrara whom was called Nascecia . When I went back to Selvacava to visit I could hardly believe my eyes the first time I saw how tiny this 2 story dwelling was and to think my grandparents raised 7 children there, it was 2 small rooms, one down and one up with a crawl space attic where some of the boys slept. I love Selvacava and honestly would love to live there, but for now its here in the good old USA, which I also love.
I’m not sure if my father knew them, unfortunately he passed away last year so I can’t ask. We also knew someone named Mario DeBellis. As for Selvacava, I know exactly what you mean about the houses being so small. My grandparents had 5 kids and raised them in a tiny “townhouse” before it was destroyed during WWII.