Chapter Sixteen: Parting Ways

I had been teaching in the heart of the city, on Pico Boulevard, under the path of  many jets flying to LAX. None of us noticed; we made our own noises to shut out the world.

I was in my element.

Wearing a sort of uniform, dark a-skirts, white shirts, sweaters for  chilly days, I looked the same as I did in college, not much different from the girls I was teaching. Anywhere else  I’d feel out of place, old-fashioned, convent-girl look; here, I felt joyful, every minute of every hour. Clothes were incidental. We appreciated hard work and  rules.

Early October, I overheard a couple of nuns talking about their pilgrimage to Rome, and within minutes, I had reserved a seat on the same plane. Finally, an end in sight.

That evening, at home, as I fixed dinner and waiting for Uncle to close the store,  I casually mentioned the news. Aunt's face went into an immediate frown, "Is that the reason you're late again?"

I didn’t think I needed to remind her that I worked full time. and attended graduate school. Maybe she hadn't understood.
“I’m not going to inconvenience you any longer." I said, and without taking another breath, I went on:"It’s been a long time. Why, my folks may not even recognize me! I’m thinking it’s going to be difficult to adjust back home.  I may not know how to behave like an Italian any more.”

My chatter was quick and fast.

“How can you talk like that? We have given you everything!" She was now angry and loud.

Usually, I would have smiled, and attended to some chore to placate her. Instead, I walked away without responding. The smell of her Pall Mall cigarettes was encircling me. Her hair in a towel smeared with dark streaks told me she had just colored it.  That combination of smells made me want to rush to the bathroom.

“Well, you need to ask permission from Ted!” She hurled this like a stone aimed for my head.

“I’m too old to be asking for permission!” I asserted boldly and out of character. Something about having money to buy a ticket back home was giving me confidence and courage.

“We won’t hear another word about this. You can’t go around making these decisions by yourself!”

“I don’t need permission. I'm not a child. I'm paying for this myself.” I yelled and slammed the bathroom door shut. This was the only room where I could lock myself in and regain my composure.
The place was in a shamble. Bottles everywhere. No wonder she was angry. I was not home to take care of the children on an evening when she had decided to color her hair.

“You’re an ungrateful slug. You’ve been nothing but trouble.” Hissing with rage, she was pounding at the door.

I opened the door and something came out of my mouth:  “I might as well leave right now.” I then rushed to the bedroom to gather some things before I lost my courage.

“Your Uncle will be very angry! You’ll wait until your Uncle returns.” She was shouting at the top of her range. When she saw me put some clothes and books in a suitcase, she grabbed it forcefully, “We paid for all that stuff!” Those were the last words I heard as I dropped everything and stormed out, walking as fast as I could to the street corner where there was a phone booth.  I called Myra whose number I remembered. She accepted my collect call and picked me up twenty minutes later.

Chapter Six: Leaving Home

On a cold and wet February in 1959, I boarded an almost empty TWA jet in Rome, headed for Los Angeles. A sad song played on the public address system. Ciao, Ciao, Bambina, the song said, don’t cry, wipe your tears. Everything I had dreamed about was waiting for me. I was seventeen.

I had kissed my mother, father and little brother Luigi back in Venosa, and now I was saying goodbye to Toni' who had accompanied me everywhere for the last three years, in an out of the American Consulate in Naples for this document or that. He never complained about how his life was invaded by my needs. He kept my dream alive with every visit, and every rejection from the Consulate.

I told him, I am never returning to this country.
You don’t mean it, he replied with a smile.

In heavy coats and sturdy shoes, we had traveled from Venosa to Roma by train. Snow and sleet made travel treacherous.

Winters were always harsh. I had worried about that, how difficult it would be for me if I couldn’t catch the train. Our neighbors had come over and helped shovel our way out of the house all the way to the main street where a bus took us to the station.

Mother had not wanted to tell any one about the trip, worried about people’s envy. She had given me a special amulet to wear, to guard against the malocchio. I took the necklace and the amulet off and handed it to To`ny before I boarded the plane:

"Thanks for all you have done for me." I said, hugging Toni' and taking the small suitcase in my hand as I walked up the plank. I looked back to see tears in his eyes.

I regretted nothing.I was going to a place without weather, without runny noses, winter chills and treacherous roads. My life was waiting for me in sunny California, and winter and poverty were now just in the past.

Though we stocked our cellar with everything we needed to last us until the next harvest, enough wood for heating and cooking, flour, olive oil, wine, canned goods, cured meats, cheeses, dried fruit and nuts, and a variety of legumes, all this made us richer than our neighbors, and we were grateful. Now, with my change in fortune, we would be the most envied people in the entire town.

I don't remember what I ate on the plane that entire day. I kept thinking that Mother's usual pot of beans, slowly cooking in a terracotta pot in the fireplace,  dressed with dried tomatoes sautéed in olive oil with plenty of garlic and peperoncini, the food that sustained us most days was not going to be missed by me!

I will not miss the smell of pasta  e fasul,  I thought.

I will not miss the cold, either.

In February, and all through winter, our schools, big stone edifices were cold tombs. Children took a box of live coals with them, a heavy lunchbox, which was positioned under the desk, allowing us to pay attention, and write beautiful cursive dictations in our notebooks. Other places must have modernized their old buildings, for sure. But I was going to a sunny place the entire year!

People’s legs in the winter developed long red marks in the front, from standing so close to the fire. in front of the fireplace at home, close enough to warm the parts exposed, while our backs were still freezing. We wore layers of sweaters, and placed our coats on our beds to keep us warm at night,

Schools must be different, I thought.
No more standing in the front of the room to recite lessons. And on Fridays, in our gym, an open area ten times the size of the classroom, we ran around until we could no longer stand up, at which point the teacher guided us through stretch exercises and tumbling maneuvers, all of us stripped down to gym shorts and t-shirts regardless of the weather.

No more soaked and muddy shoes after each day traipsing to and from school.  If we caught a cold, it would soon turn to pneumonia, keeping us in bed for days, drinking hot wine sweetened with honey to combat raspy cough and sinus troubles. Children and old people died after a winter cold spell.

In Los Angeles the temperature was 75 degrees when we plane finally landed.