My Turn

The great South African leader Nelson Mandela once noted, “If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his own language, that goes to his heart.” As Mandela suggests, through Italian language, we can deepen our connection to all things Italian. And as we all know, Italy has so much to offer. Its art, culture, music, food and architecture are justly famous throughout the world and have given much pride to those of Italian heritage. The importance of Italian as a language not just of art, food …

After 70 years in Italian America, I am still searching for the “Queen of Little Italy.” No, she’s not one of those lovely young ladies who reign over the Columbus Day Parade. My queen was short and stout and tough, and she packed a gun. She died in 1920. In her day, she controlled more votes than any other woman in Chicago. She was a midwife who delivered her voters into the world at their birth and to the polls on election day. She was a strong leader who in her time defied every stereotype of women, Italians and immigrants. …

  As Italians, our fast food might be pane e formaggio on the fly, but when is the last time you savored an al fresco feast in the great outdoors? Before summer escapes, take time now to plan a picnic with your cherished family and friends. One summer weekend every year, my family and I are lucky to be part of the annual PDG picnic. The PDG lodge originated in Chicago in 1925 as the Piana dei Greci (PDG) Aid Society. It was a haven for nuovi arrivati Arbereshe from Sicily and helped them get established and assimilate into life …

50 years have passed since I first sailed the waters of New York Harbor, coming from Italy. When my father, Luigi Savaglio, heard that a person could make his fortune in America, my parents gathered their four children, packed every earthly possession they could into two large cases and several bags, and departed for the Promised Land. Like others, we left behind all we knew, hoping to trade hardship and uncertainty for prosperity, safety and security. Above all, my father prayed that we would always remain together as a family. As we pulled into the Port of New York, we …

The altar my grandma arranges sits under one of our kitchen cabinets. The rosary hangs from St. Joseph’s neck. It’s deep purple with silver pieces between each bead. The statue is about a foot tall and hand painted. He has gray, purple, and brown cloth draped from his body. He’s typically depicted holding Baby Jesus, but in ours he stands alone surrounded by small votive candles. The tomatoes start to simmer right before guests arrive. Both of my uncles are in the kitchen. Steel pots sit on the stove and emit clouds of steam each time the lids are lifted …