Brain Spatters of a Late-Blooming Writer


Thursday, August 4, 2016

Something Elsa

On Thursday morning, September 25, 2014, Elsa Marella, my grandmother, passed away.  This was her eulogy:

You better believe it.

This is really Elsa’s story, but it’s so hard for me to tell it detached from my own, because Nana is so present in my life. One of the perks of being born to young parents is the ministry of grandparents.  I had the good fortune to be born when all four of my grandparents were alive, and three of them were only in their forties.  They were active, creative, hard-working people who really enjoyed grandchildren.

Elsa was born to a privileged mother in an Italian village called Tolo.  Her father, Biagio, whose beginnings were more humble, wanted his children to have the American dream.  And so they came to America and settled in South Quincy and Nana grew up with 2 sisters, 3 brothers, and some Salvatore cousins.  She told us stories about her father’s wine-making, growing up during the depression, sleeping several children to a bed, and being excited to get an orange as a special Christmas treat.  If there was deprivation, she didn’t express it that way.  She loved her family, growing up in Quincy, and her friends. She not only had life-long friends, but she continued to make friends throughout her life. She had a few different circles of friends, but one in particular, “the club girls” got together at least once a month for nearly sixty years.

As a teenager, she fell in love with Rocco, my grandfather, and from his mother, she learned how to cook.  Nana and Grampa loved music and dancing, especially at family weddings, Sons of Italy events and the Firemen’s Ball.  They told a story about how when Elsa was 16, she snuck out of the house one night without her father’s permission to go to a jitterbug contest with Rocco.  They won, but she couldn’t bring the trophy home because that would have been evidence of the crime.

Elsa had a beautiful smile that lit up a room; she was vivacious, fun, and good at a lot of things.  She loved to dress up, and when she went out, she was really put together. Accessorizing was a bit of a passion for her.  Whenever I made earrings at her house, she’d add more beads and dangly things on to  whatever I started with, and she loved them:  the gaudier the better.

She was an incredible cook, she not only baked for every holiday, but well into her eighties, she watched cooking shows like Emeril and Rachel Ray, and she’d challenge herself to try new recipes.  Every decade from the 1940s on was represented in cookware in her house. There are so many memories of Nana making  pizzellis, cutlets, meatballs, sauce.  And there was always home-made soup. “Nonni soup” meant something special to Dave, Liz and Arianna. 

She could sew, too, and knit, and crochet.  Anytime she heard of a relative getting married or having a baby, they could count on a hand-made afghan from Auntie Elsa.  That was one kind of gift she really respected. One thing Nana was not good at was receiving gifts.  Typically, we’d give her a gift with a receipt, because even if it was exactly what we thought she was wishing for, she’d return it to the store.  But a hand-made gift, something that someone created with you in mind; that’s a gift that’s made with love, something you can’t put a price tag on. That’s one of my take-aways from growing up as Elsa’s grand-daughter.  So, if Elsa made something for you, you better believe she loved you.

And she loved a lot of people, especially those she considered her family. If they were asked how many kids they had, Elsa & Rocky would say, “three, Sandy, Lissa and Mike.” She was super-protective and loyal, maybe to a fault, and she assumed a lot of responsibility for providing for her loved ones. That meant a great deal of cooking, sewing, networking, hand-feeding, bill-paying, and just plain showing up.  She cared - a lot, and doing right by your family, and taking responsibility were two things she took very seriously.  She had pretty high standards, and could be hard on herself when she didn’t think she’d done enough, or given enough.

Nana loved being an Italian American.  And like her father, she believed in the American dream, so the year she turned 30, she officially became an American citizen.  She had a good run.  As much as my grandfather’s unexpected death blind-sided her, she managed to have another 20 active years after that, even taking her first airplane ride to visit us in Salisbury, Maryland in 1992.  After flying to see us in Virginia in 2000, she had the confidence to plan her life-long dream of returning to Italy, this time, as an American.  She went and you better believe she loved every minute of it.

As she became less active, and less verbal, she still had a beautiful smile.  She still enjoyed staying social though, and when it was time to move into Hancock Park, she did it with grace, anticipating more time with Mary Cain, one of her “club girls,” who lived on the same wing. She was OK with leaving the house, just as long as Sandy was going to be OK.  Isn’t it funny how a mother doesn’t stop being a mother? So, she made that transition easy on us, still protective of her kids.

Not everyone does great things.  Most of us, like Elsa, accomplish small things.  But her example, another take away for me, is that a person can do many, many small things with great love.  So, you better believe it, Nana accomplished a great deal with great love, and a smile that lit up any place she happened to be. 

So, if they have jitterbug contests in heaven, are Elsa and Rocco winning another trophy?  One their parents and brothers and sisters are cheering them onto?


You better believe it.

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