“Italian Heritage and Traditions” (Nance Ortolano, Salvatore Crisanti) and “The Importance of Nurture”(Melanie Witkowski)
Salvatore (Sam) Crisanti’s family originated in Sicily, Italy, His father was born in the early 1900s in the province of Palermo and immigrated here with his mother and two sisters. In this video, Sam talks about how his family celebrated St Joseph’s Day, and how his family still carries on that tradition. It is a beautiful tradition with much symbolism and lots of food, mainly fried and sauce with no meat and desserts. Sam also shares details of his personal history, Italian heritage and hopes for the future.
In Sam’s Own Words . . .
Bongioro, I hope to share some of my history, Italian heritage and hopes for the future with you. First, let me introduce myself. I am Salvatore Crisanti. In Sicily where my family originated, I would be called Toto, but here in America, the Italian name of Salvatore somehow became Sam and that is how I am known. All of my roots are in Sicily. My father was actually born in the province of Palermo and immigrated here with his mother, and two sisters when he was 15 months old. His father was already here, earning money to send for the family. Things were pretty barren in Sicily in the early 1900s and as the family became more comfortable here in the states, they sent care packages to the relatives who remained behind in Sicily.
Growing up in an Italian family was great. There was always food everywhere, and relatives galore. After a family tragedy, my folks moved in with my mom’s family, so I grew up with my grandparents (Nonna and Nonno) living in the same house. When my grandmother broke her hip, there was no sending her to a nursing home, we carried her up and down stairs on a kitchen chair and cared for her at home. Both my grandmother and mom were great cooks. Grandma’s signature dish was lemon meringue pie. Lemons grow abundantly in Sicily, so I guess that makes a lot of sense. Every Sunday there was spaghetti, pasta, segu, sauce, or whatever you call it–by any name it was delicious, and we ate abundantly. Since we were from Sicily, there were always eggs in the sauce. Mainlanders scoff at that practice, but I believe it came from the old country when they were too poor to have meat, so they used hard boiled eggs as the protein in the sauce. The sauce was always in a big kettle because you never knew just who would be showing up for Sunday dinner. There was an open-door policy and who ever showed up could expect a great meal. The salad was always served after the spaghetti and at the end of the meal were nuts. My mom often talked about when she was growing up and how her mom made bread a couple of times a week. She used to trade her homemade bread slices for store bought with a neighbor–each thought the other’s bread was a treat.
While my parents and grandparents spoke Italian at home–my grandparents learned very little English, but my parents told me ” We are Americans now and we will speak English in our house” so consequently I do not know Italian. It was also a great way for them to communicate things with each other that they did not want us to know. Today, I deeply regret not having learned the language when I was younger.
Everyone earned their own keep and thus my sister and I had chores around the house. Yard work fell to me, along with tending to the rabbits and chickens and helping Dad in the garden. No self respecting Italian would be without a garden and Dad and the neighbors vied for bragging rights on the first tomato or the biggest pepper or the longest cucuzzi. Even when Dad was disabled, he straddled a chair and sat and hoed the garden. Years later, when we traveled to Italy, I saw there the similarities to dad’s planting and harvesting techniques. Today, I still plant a large garden and we can and preserve like the ancestors, though I must admit, the freezer has become a big part of our preserving.
After my uncle died, my grandmother began hosting St Joseph’s tables in his memory. It was a really big undertaking. Today we still try to carry on that tradition, though on a much smaller scale. It is a beautiful tradition with much symbolism and of course lots of food, mainly fried and sauce with no meat and desserts galore. It was a peasant’s meal so the food is quite simple. There was also the absence of bread or baked goods on St Lucy day when you only ate wheat berries to commemorate the famine and the arrival of the boat with wheat into Siragusa. La Bafana left a small trinket for children on New Year’s Eve. Those are all traditions of my youth that we try to carry on today. One of the reasons we like to carry on these traditions is to share them with the kids and grandkids. My daughter would have made her Nonna proud with the special breads she turns out at St Joseph’s and the Easter egg cookies she mass produces.
After taking a trip to Italy, I began to think I would like to go to Sicily. Back then people had home phones and there was an Italian phone book on-line. I looked for Crisantis around where my dad was born and sent letters to them. Most weren’t answered, but I got an email one morning from a .IT and almost didn’t answer it, but when I opened it I realized it was from a distant relative. Then a while later a letter came in the mail from a cousin who actually lives in the house where my dad was born. Just imagine my excitement. Fast forward to being on the plane en route to meet these relatives. I was so nervous and wondered how we would be accepted. Those particular relatives weren’t all that welcoming, but one morning at our hotel, our interpreter said “your cousin is here” and we met Antonino. This bear of a man hugged me so hard I had trouble breathing. He invited us to dinner at a local restaurant and all of his family was so gracious. At the table there were at least 5 conversations going on and each was louder than the rest. And, while I couldn’t understand it, I just loved hearing the native tongue spoken and all the excitement and love in that room. When Antonino put his hand on the table ( to state that he was in charge and would pay for dinner-there would be no discussion) the hair on the back of my neck stood up. That hand was so similar to the one that had sent me flying across the yard a few times as a youth. There were definitely common genes that we shared. Later, we were invited to his home, and I am still full from that meal. What I thought was the serving plate, was my personal plate of spaghetti. My wife had some of their homemade wine and said she thinks it grew hair on her chest. Home cured olives were delicious and the cheese from their own goats was unexcelled. Such a warm and welcoming group of people.
Then, a few years later, we were fortunate enough to take a trip to Sicily with all our children and grandchildren. A couple of the kids ordered pizza and fries in one of the restaurants. Were they surprised when the fries came ON the pizza. On this trip, we met even more relatives, these from my great grandmother’s side. These are the party animals and I figured out whose genes my sister had. We took a tour and then rented a villa for a week. It was on an abandoned orange and lemon farm and we were told to help ourselves to all the produce we wanted. The kids picked oranges and squeezed fresh juice each morning. Fresh lemonade was the beverage at lunch and dinner. We shopped at the local market and cooked artichokes that cost $.35 each. We had a great time trying to figure out the washing machine with Italian instructions and metric measurements. Then we hung the clothes because the only dryer in Sicily is the sun. I believe the memories we made will last a lifetime, I know they will for us and I hope the same is true for the grandkids.
Later we returned with just some of our offspring. By this time, our eldest grandson had learned enough Italian to act as our interpreter. And, we went to the cousin’s house, the house where my dad was born, my great grandparents home.It has been greatly modernized but what an awesome feeling it was to stand in the house where my father was born over 100 years ago, or to go to Mass in the church where he was Baptized and my great grandparents and grandparents were married. The homes there are very different from ours, They are constructed of stone and you enter into the living area, What is now the living area is where the animals were originally housed to keep them safe and to offer a small amount of heat to the rest of the house. The bedrooms are on the second floor and the kitchen is on the third floor. To take in the groceries, you lower a basket out the window or off the balcony and haul them up on a rope. They don’t shop for everything weekly as we tend to, but daily and smaller amounts. The market comes 1 day a week with various items–similar to our farmer’s market. The fish monger goes through the streets on another day, calling out “Pesce, pesce.” We were awestruck to see the pastries in the shops in Sicily. It was also cool to see chariot marks in the stones in the walled city of Erice, from where you can see the salt pans which to this day are flooded in the spring with sea water and which is allowed to evaporate until late summer when they harvest the salt.
On one occasion, we were with a group of friends from back home. Having done some research on Ancestry.com before we left home, we had the locations of the towns from which their ancestors had emigrated. We visited each of the town to find records and information. In one town, our friend was told there were no living descendants there. There is some sort of unseen hotline in the small towns in Sicily—much like when I was a kid and did something wrong and mom knew before I even got home—anyhow, as we were having lunch in a small cafe, our guide got a phone call and said, “We can’t leave yet, because Nance’s cousin is coming to meet her” Sure enough through the door came a look alike for his uncle and more family was found. We were all welcomed into the relative’s home and had to really disappoint them when we said we couldn’t all spend the night.
Nance Ortolano, a retired teacher, taught for 25 years at Brocton Central School and 10 years at Gowanda Correctional Facility during summers. A member of CIAO for many years, serving as secretary. Nance cooked food for St. Joseph Day for Holy Trinity Church in Dunkirk and has participated in CIAO’s St. Joseph Day celebrations.
She loves to travel and has been to Italy and Sicily several times
In this video, Nance talks about her heritage, St. Joseph Day celebrations and how to make arancine, rice balls, a delicious traditional food served at Sicilian St. Joseph’s Day celebrations.
Melanie Witkowski,
In this video, Melanie Witkowski shares stories about her family and kids when they were younger. She talks about ways families can reduce conflict and help kids learn to manage their own behavior. She describes PAX Tools, a collection of evidence-based, trauma-informed strategies. Drawing on decades of science to create strategies that support parents, youth workers and other adults, PAX Tools helps kids improve cooperation and self-regulation. PAX Tools encourages families to create a nurturing environment that helps kids thrive!
Melanie Witkowski, Executive Director of Prevention Works, Inc., worked at different times as Director of Program Services; Prevention Specialist; and Prevention Coordinator of School-Based Services, and Community Educator for CASAC. A NYS Office of Alcoholism and Substance Abuse Services Credentialed Prevention Professional, Witkowski carries her passion for helping people into all areas of life. An active community member and dedicated parent. Witkowski holds a Master of Science (MS)Degree in Elementary Education and Teaching from Walden University, and Bachelor of Science (BS) in Elementary Education and Teaching from State University of New York at Fredonia.