navigating holiday interactions, an italian immigrant story & (obviously) gratitude

nostalgic holiday feels & my neapolitan heritage

My grandparents in their cocktail attire - they were more well-dressed than I may ever be.

My Italian-American grandparents, Dee and Frank, were proud to be both Italian and American. In the spirit of gratitude and acknowledging our lineage - especially all they endured to help us be where we are today - I’m happy to share a bit of their story.

This is also inspired by A. contributing something to the internet that isn’t a Black Friday deal - though I do have a free eco-conscious gift-guide for all of your shopping needs, and B. officially receiving dual Italian citizenship last week :)

To preface: I fully recognize the complicated history and impact Thanksgiving has on Native American people, and I was re-reminded about the privilege inherent in my own story when that Italian passport came through.

Because the holiday season often involves controversial topics, unmet expectations, and triggering interactions, maybe this can serve as a reminder to:

• Not take our privileges for granted.

• Honor both the past and present.

• Learn about cultures, land, and people who have been harmed or marginalized.

• Acknowledge the challenges we’ve all faced to varying degrees, which might explain defensive or reactive behaviors.

• Practice as much compassion as possible and set healthy boundaries - whether through inner reflection, in an unsent note, face-to-face, or via breakdance battle.

• Move forward with [hopefully] more awareness.

Dan Harris also shared 3 helpful tips on navigating holiday interactions - particularly if they turn political - and 3 mindfulness insights on mitigating holiday expectations.

One Buddhist concept he references is non-attachment, which he summarizes by saying that “the result is out of our control.” This is a handy reminder for if and when holiday sparks start to fly, or during a four-year dual citizenship process.

Anywho - for those who enjoy nostalgia and inspiring immigrant stories, here is a bit about my strong-willed, good-natured grandparents and their Italian roots.

I hope I can make them proud by representing our ancestry with an infinite amount of humility, appreciation, and gratitude.

Happy Thanksgiving, Happy Native American Heritage Day, Happy Holiday Season whatever you do or don’t celebrate - I am so (so!) grateful for all of you.

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My grandparent’s wedding day in Chicago. From left to right: my grandfather (Papa / Frank), my great-grandmother (Nona / Theresa), my grandmother (Nana / Dee).

My grandmother Adeline (Dee) was born in Chicago as a first generation American; her parents Theresa and Antonio immigrated from Naples when they were younger.

Theresa owned a bakery, sold bread to the Mob (yes, she knew Al Capone), gave bread away during the Great Depression, and was very proud to be the first woman in her neighborhood to drive a delivery truck.

My grandfather Francesco (Frank) was born in Naples; he immigrated to America by boat around age 7 via Ellis Island with his mother and siblings.

They joined his father, Pasquale, who had already been working in Chicago for a printing company - he was also a clarinetist in an Italian marching band.

My grandpa quickly learned English to fit in with other kids; he met my grandma in their neighborhood when they were teens and claimed early on he would marry her.

He renounced his Italian citizenship to serve as a U.S. infantryman in WWII while my grandma worked as a secretary for an army colonel in downtown Chicago.

He was awarded a Purple Heart after the war - the details of which he chose not to recount, had four children, and eventually moved the family - including my grandma’s charismatic Neapolitan parents - to California.

On the west coast, my grandpa became a respected dentist, beloved faculty member, and prolific researcher at UCLA, known especially for his work on AIDS and its relation to oral health.

My grandparents, their children, their cousins, and all of us grandchildren celebrated many holidays together (the kids table was so much fun) - especially Feast of the Seven Fishes on Christmas Eve, with Rat Pack records on repeat.

Some of my favorite memories of them involve food, naturally: pizzelle at Christmas, Easter cake (Pigna di Pasqua) and cookies, lasagna, meatballs, rectangle pan pizzas which Nana cut into squares with scissors, chicken soup with orzo and spoonfuls of parmesan. Papa used to peel fruit with a small knife after dinner and pass it around the table for everyone to share.

My entry into spirituality was also through them - we spent many Sundays and holidays with them at their local Catholic church, where my grandpa would read scripture for the sermon and sing embarrassingly loud in the pews.

They welcomed everyone - from all different cultures and walks of life - with open arms, treating friends like family and fostering community wherever they went.

They loved hosting and attending group events (they were social butterflies - always impeccably dressed to boot); they laughed often and wept easily (typical Italian qualities); they are still fondly remembered by my own friends and their families.

(My Dad’s side is Norwegian and Swedish - his ancestors immigrated to the U.S. much earlier, but I know that both food and family were important to them, too.)

Minutes after I was handed an Italian passport at the Nice Consulate :)

The idea of becoming an Italian citizen was sparked after my move to France in 2019 - my mom and I discussed how nice it could be to carry on and honor their heritage.

My mom Anna (Annamaria to her Italian cousins) used her Italian resilience to sort through countless old documents and complete what seemed like endless paperwork. Thanks to the 1948 Law, we were able to apply for dual citizenship via my great grandmother Theresa.

After about four years of a lot of waiting and logistics, I was one of the first of us to receive an Italian passport.

*Fun fact: Nice was once Italian (“Nizza”), and many Italians still call it home.

Thankful is an understatement for the sacrifices my grandparents and their parents made to create opportunities for their families; for the efforts they made to keep their culture alive while integrating themselves into a foreign one.

This ripple effect was not lost on my family, and my tremendous privilege / this enormous gift is not lost on me.

I hope this can serve as a friendly reminder to remember and respect those who came before us, even if we make the reverse journey and end up on the continent they left.

Grazie mille Italia, ti amo tanto!

I would love to hear more about your heritage and lineage, if you’d like to share :)

Ciao ciao,

S

View of the Promenade des Anglais in Nice after my passport retrieval. A street performer was playing a well-known Italian ballad - couldn’t have timed it better.