The Importance of the Funeral

"Did you go to Sam's funeral? How was it? Who was there?"

That, my friends, is how the conversation about a funeral usually begins.

I have been going to the funeral home for as long as I can remember.  I don't ever remember not going to the funeral home.  Losing a loved one is never easy and the grief is crippling as it is for everybody, but it is with great dignity that Italians deal with the business of death.  It's not taboo to discuss death or people who have died.  There is a difference between dealing with death and dealing with the business of death.

Funerals are important events in the Italian community.  Respect is a big thing in our culture and funerals are one of the main places where respect is shown (or intentionally not shown).  

Welcome to Growing up Italian

My mother's idea of Canada Day

In November , 1950, my father emigrated to Canada from Pacentro, AQ, Italia and that, pretty much, is the beginning of my story.  This journey was via Naples and Halifax.

Well, the story probably started when Italy did not fare well during the Great Depression and sustained physical and economic damage during WW2, but we'll just start it when my father got on that ship at the age of 16.

The motivation for starting this journal is my required online presence for the course WRIT3P15 at Brock University, during the Winter 2016 semester.  But the subject has always intrigued me and I have the feeling it will continue after the course is over.

Growing up as the child of immigrants is not unique in Canada, specifically my neighbourhood and city.  Being Canadian while living a life according to another culture had its moments.  This experience is not unique to Italian families as my Hungarian, Croatian and German friends also had the same experience.

Adding to my memories and current experiences are the fact that we have family who live in Buffalo, NY, a mere 30 minutes away, and they are fully assimilated Americans.

My intention is to explore and share my life as an Italian and Canadian.  I am proud to be Canadian, but I am just as proud to be Italian.  I consider myself both nationalities and do not water it down by calling myself Italian-Canadian.  I feel just as much at home sitting around a table with my family in Italy as I do anywhere in Canada.

I can speak the language, eat the food, wear a gold necklace with a cross and a "cornicello", get the jokes and talk with my hands.  I have Italian friends who understand some sayings that I use that were translated over, but not overly used by my Canadian friends.

Not everybody likes Italians.  I know that, I've experienced it and I will explore that.  I've experienced it directly, not just through stories.

My intention here is not to share the occasional story of spilling sauce on my shirt.  There is something that needs to be explored when examining how an individual , family or community can pick up and transplant itself into a strange place and keep moving forward.  During the 2015 Spring Semester I took GEOG1F90 at Brock where we examined the term "Sense of Place" in great depth and this blog will lean on that education.  I will also explore the pain some may have suffered from losing their identity or their attachment to a place.  These all shape why our community has the characteristics that it has.

If you've ever been to a crowded, mountain side town in Italy you would understand the possible culture shock of moving a a flat, spread out place like Canada.

We see how some immigrants flourished once they were settled and it might give the impression that resettling wasn't difficult, but many also went back home.

Born and still living in Welland, I am 49 years old and the oldest child of an immigrant couple.  My identity is just as affected by Italy as it is by Canada.  While our community is changing, its layout and social scene is directly affected by the different peoples who came to Welland during the post-war era.

I look forward to making this journal a personally gratifying experience.  I hope you enjoy it, too.