On Day 9 of Laura Shovan's February Daily Poetry Project, the prompt led me to remember a secret that was untold until I was in grad school. Rachel Patton Toalson chose the theme. secrets stating "I've been thinking lately about how no matter how long you've known a person, there are still aspects of their lives that remain mysterious." I share with you a special story in my life that unfolded when I was a fledging adult.
Secrets Untold Unfold
3rd grade lesson
where are you from
didn’t know so
I asked at home
she did not tell
secret held close
others Irish
family French???
years later, secret
untold opened
mom rode boat to
America
from Italy
a little child
with her mother
father waiting
one family
together grew
American
lifestyle with friends
Italian
speaking with grand
until age five
moving onward
during grad school
swirling with pride
tale unfolded
told with honor
dressed like old world
childhood stories
pizza fritta
joy provided
where am I from
nonnie and mom
Rome New York- first
generation
©Carol Varsalona, 2026
So you may have realized the secret. Now, I will tell you why there was a secret for so long. My Nonnie believed that her children should be Americanized once she arrived in America, around 1921. Since I was the oldest grandchild born in the United States, I needed to act like an American. That meant speaking English and graduating from college. Life was different in the 20th Century. I did not know that I was a first-generation child of Italian descent until I was an adult. Where are you from?
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It sounds like you really have done a great job of blending your heritage. You keep Nonnie's cooking and honor her wish that you acclimate to American culture as well. Oh, that time in the kitchen and those cookies. Steals my heart.
ReplyDeleteKim, thank you for being the first one to comment. I am still trying to make the rounds and read as much as I can of blog posts.
DeleteCarol, I think what you say is so true of many families. Ancestors left their country for a new and better life in America and wanted their children and grandchildren to be full-fledged Americans that their country of origin was kept a secret. Yet, unless we are Native American, we all have a country of origin. My grandparents came from a part of Ukraine. You keep your Nonnie's memory alive with your baking and your passing it down to your own granddaughters as well. Bob
ReplyDeleteBob, thank you for joining me here. Do you think you bake based on your family's country of origin or do you bake because you love it? I think my zest for baking came from my Nonnie, then my mother and my love of this art.
DeleteCarol, I would say I bake because I enjoy it. I don’t really make anything that would be considered ethnic.
DeleteCarol, wow. What a secret to be kept from young children. It was a different time then, wasn't it? The melting pot has since turned into what I think is an improved potpourri of cultures. Let us celebrate all of them! Thank you for this post.
ReplyDeleteI believe in diversity. I wonder if most teachers do also. I talk to my grandchildren about my childhood so they can understand where I came from. I am happy that they are in a district that has a diverse population.
DeleteCarol, your story is a reminder that not that long ago, it was not a "good thing" to have Italian roots! I am sure they were trying to protect you from the "prejudice" of the times. While we are a nation of immigrants from all over the world, we are not always (as we see these day clearly) welcoming towards the newest migrants into our communities.
ReplyDeleteIt is sad to harbor negative thoughts about the new immigrants. I wonder if this is what my grandparents felt. I know that many people that my grandmother knew were also Italians.
DeleteCarol - This is a wonderful post, poem, and memory. I too am Italian-American and that photo of your Nonnie's cookies made me so hungry! I could smell them and taste them. Thank you for this!
ReplyDeleteJoanne, thank you for your generous comment. I found a few recipes that my Aunt wrote down for my Nonnie. They all had lard as one of the ingredients-a staple in her kitchen. I do not bake with lard but try to make the cookies replicas of the past. Have a wonderful week. It is almost time for me to bake for Valentine's Day.
DeleteWhat interesting knowledge to have kept secret! Being an immigrant has its challenges, but like someone said, we're all immigrants from somewhere. I'm a mixture, a bit Scottish, a bit Irish, with ancestors arriving here back in the 1600s. Oh, those cookies look divine! I hope you're continuing to heal and getting better each day.
ReplyDeleteRamona, It is very interesting that your ancestors arrived in the 1600s. I made an error about the date my Nonnie and her baby daughter, Kathryn (my mother), came to America. I did not even realized I added the wrong date. The family came during the Roaring 20s, 1921ish. Only my uncle new the exact date and he passed at the age of almost 95.
DeleteCarol, secrets make such amazing poems and yours hit me with its beauty and pride. I also, as a first-generation, understand how much being "American" over being "Irish" was valued. My father came here from Ireland in his mid-thirties from Ireland, and met and married my also newly-arrived Irish mother. Your poem is one that will resonate with so many!! Thank you for this!
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