Grandma’s Friendly Village

Oh no! I forgot to post something for Nov. 20! But in the interests of catching up FAST, I’m going to call this Nov. 21 entry #20, and will post #21 later. I hope you will forgive me for simply reblogging an old post. It’s actually post #1 from NaBloPoMo 2019. I was reminded of it today when a distant cousin mentioned the family connection on Facebook.


My grandmother Angeline was born in central Sicily, in a small village with the beautiful name “Villarosa.”

In 1910, at age 8, she emigrated from Sicily to America with her own grandmother, got married at age 16, quickly had five bambinos, and was widowed at 30. She later remarried and had a good life, but she never got to see Villarosa again.

Here she is at about age 30 (I’m guessing).

Grandma Armenia

I liked going to Grandma’s house. She always seemed cheerful, and she served us plenty of macaroni, ice cream, and raspberries, saying the word “mangia” practically as soon as we’d walked through her door. Her house was decorated with colorful starched doilies that she’d crocheted herself. I wonder if she crocheted the collar in the above photo. I have a special memory of the two of us sitting in a summer garden next to some pansies while…

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