About Nonno

Much of what I know about my grandfather is the stuff of legends, such that you start to wonder what parts are myth and what parts are actually true.

Adriano was born to a very old and wealthy family in Rome, Italy. In his teens, he served his obligatory service in WWII for Mussolini (aka: the wrong side), and was stationed in Southern Italy. Anyhow, when his unit heard that the Allied forces were on their way, they immediately took off their uniforms, borrowed clothes from the locals, and sat themselves down in the local bar as if they had been there all day. When the liberators arrived and asked which way Axis forces had gone, “the soldiers” winked and said “what soldiers?” The Allies understood that they were all on the same side. They sat down for wine and celebration with my grandfather’s platoon and with the locals, like old friends.

When my grandfather married my grandmother, it was a HUGE scandal. In those days, people of my grandfather’s status did NOT mingle with working class families. He lost his inheritance, his status, and was disowned by his parents, all for marrying this woman from the wrong side of the tracks. They had a daughter (my mother), and worked hard for everything that they owned. When the job situation became difficult, they decided it was time to emigrate. My grandfather sent applications for work to two countries where his skills were in high demand: Australia and Canada. He told the family that the first country to reply would be where they would go.

I can’t imagine how it felt, holding that envelope…wondering where the new life would begin. Of course, Canada replied first, which is why I am here and not down under! They sold everything and flew across the pond to icy Quebec City. They had never seen snow before, and it was 4 ft. deep when they arrived. My grandparents thought they had entered arctic hell. But my mother, who was 6, loved it!

My grandparent’s journey took them to Ontario, where they lived to celebrate 57 years of marriage. And yesterday, my grandfather died of complications from emphysema.

My grandfather was a master garage-saler, buying old, worn-out & broken furniture, restoring it in his workshop, and selling it again as the heirloom it once was.

My grandfather loved to collect, and had an odd assortment of collectibles from antique dulcimers to novelty singing fish, ancient roman coins to plush skunks.

My grandfather told me there were trout in the hot water tank. (I believed him until very recently.)

My grandfather loved sweets, played Claudio Villa (*above) records at Christmas and was the crankiest old bugger with a smile in his eyes that you could ever hope to meet.

I think the best thing about my grandfather is how he always called Nicky “Il Professore” (the professor). My grandfather adored that little boy because he recognized that my son had a special kind of intelligence. I like to think Nicky reminded him of himself when he was a kid, with those ears that stick out and that unusual way about him. Nicky raises his eyebrows as he watches the world, waiting for something funny or unexpected to happen. He laughs out loud when it does.

So, I will think of Nonno when I look at my little boy.