It Was a Wonderful Life

Image: It's a Wonderful Life

It was the same every year... Nanu prepared the castagna's (chestnuts) while watching, It's a Wonderful Life. Grand-maman watched Jimmy Stewart (her favourite leading man) from the kitchen as she fried the cudderieddi (potato fritter doughnuts). Sounds traditional, right? My grandparents were anything but...

My grand-maman Esterina was elegant, fiery, and original. She was ahead of her time. Not a traditional nonna at all. In fact, most people wondered if she was even Italian. She only wore Chanel No. 5, she fashionably dressed in pearls and pumps, she avidly discussed politics, she spoke with a soft lilt of a British accent, and she was the only person that could go head-to-head with my grandfather. And win.

My grandfather Valentino was a long lost member of the
Rat Pack. He had an effortless cool. Nanu was a real gentleman, and he never left the house without donning a hat. He told the best stories, he was always the life of the party, and he was a generous man with a heart of gold that could make anything grow. And O Dio he was stubborn.

The conventional part about my progressive Italian-Canadian grandparents was their sense of family. And it shined every Christmas at their authentic Calabrian Christmas Eve feast
(la viglia) that would include thirteen dishes centered around seafood. The baccala (salted cod) was nanu's personal favourite. But lobster and crab, scallops and oysters, and always broccoli with shaved parmesan would be served with an abundance of vino and cheese.

The ladies would mix drinks (gin and tonic my grand-maman's favourite) as everyone gathered in the kitchen to cook, talk, and laugh. Nanu would pass around shots of brandy or cognac. My cousin Vince, my brother Adriano, and I would put up the last of the decorations and set the table. All the while, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Sammy Davis Jr. would be playing in the background.

My family always lingered around the dinner table long after the meal was over. And Nanu would tell us tales about our family history and Italia. Grand-maman would tell us anecdotes about nanu, our parents, or us as kids. And we would talk and laugh over the vino. Eventually, nanu would get the castagna's, some pannetone (sweet bread), and champagne to toast our blessings. Even in those moments, I knew I was lucky to be part of the scene: My family gathered around the table, the freshly fallen snow, and grand-maman's decorated tree.

But last Christmas, my nanu was diagnosed with cancer. I spent much of the holiday taking care of him until the day after Christmas when he collapsed and was taken to the hospital where he died three months later. My nanu was a strong man and a brave fighter to the very end, but he left us suddenly as my grand-maman had only a few years before. His passing marks the end of an era for my family.
Of course there will be new memories in the making, but Christmas will never be the same.

This Christmas Eve will be the most difficult and strange. I am most looking forward to midnight mass in Italian where I can light a candle and pay my respects. I'm a girl whose made a life (and a blog) out of making the most of everything but this Christmas, I simply don't have the heart for it.

What I admired most about my grandparents was their ability to adapt to change. They left their old country behind and embraced their new life in Canada without clinging to the old country as most immigrants did. And yet, they always retained their culture. I know they'd expect me to do the same. Next year.

I miss my extraordinary grandparents. It was a wonderful life.