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LA PARTENZA |
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I giorni prima della partenza erano pieni di preparativi. Mio padre voleva lasciare tutto a posto tutto bene. Aveva una piccola ditta di trasporti che doveva liquidare. Un signore di un altro paese era venuto a contrattare. Voleva comprare tutto ma non aveva soldi per pagare. Cosi si misero d’accordo che avrebbe pagata una rata mensile a mia madre. A mio padre andò bene l’idea. In questo modo la mamma, le sorelle e la nonna avrebbero avuto un entrata prima che noi due ci saremmo stabiliti e cominciato a mandare soldi da qui. La nonna preparava un grande baule e lo riempiva d’ogni ben di Dio. Metteva dentro salsicce, prosciutti, lattine d’olio d’oliva , pezze di formaggio. Aveva quattro figli in America venuti prima di noi e voleva mandare un po’ di tutto. Specialmente le cose fatte da lei in casa e l’olio ricavato dai nostri uliveti. Io non mi contenevo per la contentezza di emigrare. Lasciare il piccolo paese andare in grande città come New York mi eccitava molto. Immaginavo città con grandi piazze e fontane, bei palazzi e monumenti. Sognavo di trovare tanti bei ragazzi italo americani, tanto più belli e benestanti dei paesani. Le settimane prima del grande giorno mia madre era andata al mercato e mi aveva comprato un bel talieur celeste e scarpe nere con tacchi alti. Mi sentivo veramente una “grande” a vedere quel bel vestito e le scarpe col tacco. Si era spiantata a comprarlo e sono sicura che il pollaio di nonna aveva “cantato più di un mese per riempire il salvadanaio”. Volevano che io facessi una “bella figura” quando arrivavo.Lo dovevo indossare quando sbarcavo a New York. Era quasi tutto pronto. Le valigie erano strapiene e il baule tanto colmo che facemmo forza a chiuderlo. Il giorno prima della partenza mio padre aveva controllato i documenti. Passaporto.....visto ......carta d’identità. Tutto a posto. Io andai in chiesa per un ultimoù saluto alla Madonna .Il parroco del paese mi aspettava , mi diede la Santa Benedizione, mi riempì di Santini e mi augurò bene.Tornai a casa e la nonna mi chiamò in disparte. Era triste ma non voleva che io me ne accorgessi. Con la mamma e le due sorelle lei era la più che mi dispiaceva lasciare. Mi fece sedere accanto a sè e mi disse "ora te ne vai tanto lontano, forse non ti rivedrò piu’ ma per te meglio andare via da qui, non c’e lavoro non ci sono opportunità. In America troverai gli zii, ti faranno conoscere un bravo ragazzo(un buon partito). Ti sposerai,andrai bene, sei brava e intelligente." Mi abbracciò teneramente. Io mi attaccai a lei e le promisi che sarei tornata appena potevo. Con gli occhi lucidi fece cenno di si col capo ma si vedeva che non ci credeva. La sera vennero a salutarci amici e parenti. Anche le mie amiche vennero, mi dissero che ero fortunata di lasciare il paese. Andai a salutarmi con la mia più cara amica, Maria fu molto triste. Eravamo state buone amiche fin dall’infanzia. Lei piangeva mentre mi abbracciava.Facemmo fatica a distaccarci, Maria, si avviò verso l’uscita ma prima di varcare la soglia si voltò di nuovo mi fece un cenno con la mano, poi andò via. Chi sa se la rivedrò e quando. Era tardi ormai, domani mi dovevo alzare presto. Andai a letto fu l’ultima notte che dormii a casa. Vi parlo di me, in prima persona , ma non e’ solo una storia mia, ma la storia di mille e mille famiglie che si imbarcavano tutti i giorni per terre lontane. Di norma partiva solo il padre con i figli maggiorenni. La mamma rimaneva indietro con i figli più piccoli. Eventualmente, dopo che il padre e i figli si erano stabiliti in America richiamavano il resto della famiglia. Questi sono i miei ricordi,ma come detto prima non e’ una storia solo mia ma di numerosissime altre famiglie costretti a dover fare una scelta che avrebbe per sempre cambiato il corso della loro vita.
Delia Socci |
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DEPARTURE |
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The days before the departure were full of preparations. My father wanted to leave everything nicely in place. He had a small transportation company that he needed to get rid of. A certain gentleman from another village had arrived for negotiations. He wanted to buy everything, but he didn’t have the money to pay for it. Consequently, they agreed that the gentleman would send a monthly payment to my mother. My father was pleased with the idea. This way my mother, my sisters and my grandmother would have a sort of income even before the two of us had settled ourselves in and started sending money from America. Grandmother prepared a large trunk and filled it with everything under the sun. She added sausages, hams, cans of olive oil, pieces of cheese. Four of her children had come to America before us and she wanted to send a bit of everything. Especially homemade things, things she had made with her own hands, and the oil made from our own olive tree grove. I could barely contain my happiness at the thought of going to America. Leaving my small village to go to such a large city like New York was very exciting to me. I imagined cities with huge squares and fountains, beautiful buildings and monuments. I dreamed of meeting many good-looking Italian-American boys, much more handsome and well off than the boys in my town. The weeks before the big day, my mother had gone to the market and had bought me a beautiful light blue dress suit and black high-heeled shoes. I felt truly like an adult when I saw that beautiful outfit and the high-heeled shoes. She used all her money to buy it and I’m sure that Grandmother’s hen-house “had sung for more than a week to fill the piggy bank.” They wanted me to make a “good impression” when I arrived. I was to wear the outfit when I went ashore in New York. Everything was almost ready. Our suitcases were overflowing and the trunk was so full that we had to really push to close it. The day before the departure, my father had checked all our papers. Passport…visa…identity card. Everything was in order. I went to church for a last goodbye to the Virgin. The parish priest of our town was waiting for me; he gave me his Holy Blessing, he loaded me up with images of Saints and he wished me good luck. I went back home and Grandmother called me aside. She was sad, but she didn’t want me to notice. With Mother and my two sisters, Grandmother was the one that it hurt most to leave. She had me sit next to her and she said, “Now you are going very far, perhaps I won’t see you again; but it’s for the best for you to leave here, there’s no work and there are no opportunities. In America you’ll have your aunts and uncles, they’ll introduce you to a nice boy (from a good family). You’ll get married, things will go well for you, you are a good person and you’re smart.” She hugged me warmly. I embraced her and promised that I would return as soon as I could. With teary eyes, she nodded her head, but I could see that she didn’t believe me. That night, friends and relatives arrived to say goodbye. Even my friends came; they told me that I was lucky to be leaving the village. I went to say goodbye to my dearest friend, Maria; it was very sad. We had been good friends since we were little. She cried as she hugged me. We reluctantly let each other go and Maria walked towards the door; before she stepped out, though, she turned back to me and waved her hand, then she left. Who knows if I’ll see her again and when. It was late by now, and tomorrow I had to get up early. I went to bed; it was the last night I slept at home. I’m telling you about myself, in first person, but this is not only my story; it is the story of thousands and thousands of families that everyday would get on a ship to travel off to far-away lands. Usually, only the father and the older children would leave. The mother would stay behind with the smaller children. Eventually, after the father and the children had settled down in America, they would call over the rest of the family.
These are my memories, though as I said before, this is not only my
story, but also the story of so many other families that were forced
to make a choice that forever changed the course of their lives. Delia Socci Skidmore |
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