I come from a stereotypically large Italian family; my dad is 1 of 6 and almost all of his siblings already have grandchildren. I have 2 aunts, 3 uncles, and more cousins than I can count. The thing with having such a big family is that I could pass people on the street, walk right by them and not even know we are related . . .And you know what? That works for me. I do not really care to be close with people that have a huge generation gap and I have nothing in common with other than a few strands of DNA.
On that note, when my personal social networking site started getting friend requests from people whose names I did not recognize, I figured it was time to take a stand. Extended family is a group you are born into, not necessarily obligated to. I have friends that I consider family more so than cousins living in other countries I never met before. Now this is not to offend any of my family, I am just saying, if we haven’t spoken in 20+ years other than the occasional funeral; we don’t really have anything to talk about now, do we? I am a big supporter of having a few close friends and that is that. I will talk to anybody, but I will not forge a relationship just out of obligation. It is okay. We all lived our lives without keeping in touch for years, we can do it again, little buddy; I won’t be mad.
Yet, with this large sea of people I call my family, one-person stands out above the rest; my favorite Aunt, Charlie[*]. Aunt Char, as she is so lovingly referred to in this blog, is the most traditional Italian woman you will ever meet. Every Sunday she wakes up bright and early, picks fresh basil, parsley and tomatoes from her homegrown garden and starts making a sauce for her Sunday Feast. She is the kind of woman that still has her shag carpet, boomerang table and giant ceramic leopard from the 70’s because, that stuff never goes out of style! My Aunt Char will always welcome you into her dark yet humble abode and immediately offer you a seat on her plastic covered furniture. Which happens to be covered in plastic because God forbid you drop something on her couch--she will never let you forget it! [To my older brother, I am sorry she is STILL yelling at you for scratching her table when you were 2; It doesn’t matter that you are 26 now.] My Aunt Char is a US Citizen, despite being born in Italy
Aunt Charlie also loves a good party; she will travel hours on the LIE just for a good party with some shrimp cocktail. But, no matter who’s party it is, family or friend, she will not be drinking any of your beverages. You see, if my aunt Char were a Barbie, her accessory pack would come with some Capri cigarettes, a fanny pack, her homegrown tomatoes, and a bottle of water she brought from home. You see, it’s not that my aunt is a conspiracy theorist per se; it’s just that she does not want to drink any of your poison water or eat the tomatoes that came in the salad you made. She will drink her own tap water and eat the tomatoes she brought with her because she knows their lineage. My aunt is extremely loving and has two children whom are, in every sense of the word, the fruit of her loins. Her two children, Lorena and Ralph, are the spitting image of my Aunt Char and Uncle Fred. Ralph is like his father, indifferent to family feuds and passive; while Lorena is all her mother, filled with contempt and fueled by conspiracies. They are the spitting image of every 1950’s household; happy, serene, Long Island -- you get a very ‘Stepford’ vibe from their presence.
Holidays at their house leaves nothing to be desired; there are decorations (that you cannot touch unless you want a 40 minute speech screamed in your face about how when you were 4 you touched a 99cent glass ornament and it broke), movies (my cousin Lorena can name every anti-anxiety medication Donnie Darko should have been prescribed) and of course, what Italian holiday dinner would be complete without a feast? But if you are going to show up for the holidays, please be prompt (she has been slaving away all day over this meal), come hungry (but not too hungry, you only get half a manicotti per person), and do not comment on the rationing of the food (ungrateful gavone.)
If you asked me why my Char is my favorite, as if it is unclear from this blog--a testament to her life, I would tell you it is because there is just no one quite like her. She is punchy, has spunk, full of life, and whenever I see her, I always have a good story to tell. She does not bend for anyone and she most certainly does not hold back (she once kicked my little brother out of a party because she didn’t know who he was.) In short words, she is the kind of woman everyone can aspire to be; full of life, charisma, self sufficient (hello garden vegetables) and ready to cut faces if the opportunity presents itself.
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