8/30/11 Egidio and Unlikely Meetings

In the late afternoon we made our way to Egidio’s house for a brief visit.  Egidio is my father’s cousin, one year his junior having recently celebrated his seventieth birthday.  If I recall correctly, Egidio and my father may have gotten into their fair share of trouble when they were young.  One story from long ago has them sharing the blame for a barn burning to the ground.  My father insists that it was Egidio’s fault to this day… my dad, still trying to protect his good name, even when the statute of limitations has rendered his crimes a non-issue.  Besides, sixty years on all the family members who could scold my father have been dead for ages.

Shit!  I stand corrected, dad having provided clarification just now.  The other culprit in the barn-burning was dad’s cousin Gino (cue Italian stereotypes).  Whatever, the important point is that dad was involved and still refuses to admit it; although it should be noted that he does not deny it either.  He stands mute on the issue…perhaps he’s coming to terms with his crimes.

Dad and Egidio got to talking about the past and Egidio’s wife Donata (twenty years his junior) was curious about the story of how my parents met since they are from opposite ends of Italy (cornfields in the North, Cosa Nostra (Mafia) in the South).  The story, which changes slightly each time it is recalled, goes roughly like this.

My father had opened his own electronics shop in the late 60s and he made a service call to fix my maternal grandmother’s television.  When my mom came home from work that evening my grandmother went on and on about the man she had found for her.  Mom was twenty years old at the time and in my grandmother’s eyes that made her well past her prime.  Mom disagreed.  A young woman, especially a beautiful young woman, had a right to be selective.  In her eyes, a woman in Canada didn’t need to settle for the first young man in a fancy suit that came knocking.  It didn’t help that all the men that were introducing themselves were too short according to mom.

Co-incidentally, my father was also friends with my mother’s cousin Salvatore.  One day in passing Salvatore mentioned his young single cousin and my father said he’d like to meet her.  The confusion/humour sets in when you learn that my mom goes by two different names in her family: her baptismal name, of Graziella (Grace) and her family name of Maria.  Yes, it’s all very strange.  However, to make a long story short, there as essentially two set-ups; my grandmother was setting up Graziella and Salvatore was setting up Maria.  It gets better.  When my father went to meet “Maria” he said to himself “Damn, if this is Maria I can’t wait to meet Graziella”.  It’s all very Three’s Company-esque with a “confusion by virtue of swinging kitchen door” feel about it.

Seriously, who has a swinging kitchen door in a rental apartment?  The Ropers and Mr. Furley didn’t have one and neither did Larry.  That show was bullshit!

Back to the story at hand.  Ultimately the confusion of my mom’s identity was ironed out and my father asked Graziella/Maria to a dance taking place in a church basement (ever the good catholic boy).  Six months later they were married and the rest, as they say, is history.

Looking at the two of them now some forty-three years later, you can see the mix of love and frustration.  But love more than anything.  They have come a long way together, accomplishing so much.  Mom still looks at dad with a glint in her eyes; he’s her knight in shining armour.  Dad still has a smile on his face when he grabs my mom’s behind.  It’s precious.

In the car today mom said to me “You know John, you’re lucky”.

“How so, mom?”

You have the discipline of your father and my sense of adventure.  Any other way and you’d either be crazy or boring.”