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• 1 2018-05-09T17:22:23-07:00 Story Two: Many Years Later...Tanti Anni Dopo... 1 gallery 2018-05-09T17:22:23-07:00
  Years have passed, and the family that traveled across the ocean to follow the American dream has since passed, but their memory remains. Gasper was my great, great grandfather. His grandson is my grandpa, Vito. After passing through Ellis Island, they stayed in New York for quite a few years; New York was full of immigrants and specifically Italians, so they felt at home. They still spoke Italian, ate Italian, looked Italian, were Italian. Around the time that my mom was born, they moved to New Jersey for a short while, and then to the west coast, where my grandpa, Vito, started a sausage manufacturing plant. The sausage manufacturing plant was very successful, and inspired him to open up pizzerias and other restaurants in the San Jose area. He was known as the sausage king. Now, whenever I go back to the San Jose, or to visit his best friend in Monterey, I am known as the "Sausage King's Granddaughter"...and that is a title I could not be more proud of. 
  Throughout my life, I have realized more and more that so much of my upbringing is based on the traditions that have been passed down from my Italian relatives. Some traditions are noticeable, others I was not even aware of until college when I was living with other people who did things differently. Holidays are the first thing that comes to mind. For Italians, holidays are about food and family. We have a traditional Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, Easter, and birthday meals, many of which include homemade pasta and homemade meatballs. Family dinner was something I took for granted as a young child; I made the assumption all families ate together every night. When I got to college, I realized that was not the case, and I was actually very lucky to have a family who would cook and eat together every night. 
  My mom was fluent in Italian, as she studied Italian in both high school and college. Unfortunately, for various reasons, she was not able to speak to me enough when I was younger so although I have an ear for it, I never learned how to speak it. Now, I am studying Italian in school with the sole purpose of being able to teach my future kids Italian, as an ode to my family history and traditions that made me who I am today. The Italian American culture is a unique one, full of food and passion, and a lifestyle unique to only those who are lucky enough to be Italian American.