Moving to Italy: Zia Amalia

Zia Amalia was Rina’s older sister, who lived in Casale, and who came by bus to visit us about once every two weeks. She was a fascinating example of little old Italian womanhood.  Her husband had been dead some years, so as was the custom, she wore black. She was around sixty-seven, short, lively, and noisy. She was also a lot stronger than me. She didn’t arrive at Gabi on any schedule, and she didn’t write to let us know when she would be there. She just got off the bus in Gaminella and started walking the three plus miles up the steep hill. The first we knew that she was coming was when we saw a small black blob moving along the road in the distance.  If the car was around we sent one of the men to collect her, but many times we didn’t notice her until she rounded the corner of our house and called out a greeting. 

She always came burdened with bulging bags that she had carried up the steep slope. The contents of the bags were varied: a rag doll for Margaret Ann (she had one son and favored our daughter), jars of her homemade antipasto sauce, small cars for the boys, coloring books, and various items for Rina. One thing she always carried was a pocketful of hard menthol candy that she distributed freely to the children. In our house they became known ever after as “Zi’Amalia candy”.  I enjoyed listening to this old lady, even though I couldn’t understand much of what she said. It was her delivery—always light, bright, and enthusiastic.  She laughed a lot and reminded me of my English relatives—take charge, no nonsense, and no self-pity. While she was at Gabi, she walked the grounds collecting apples, pears, nuts, and anything else she could find that seemed of use. She left with bags as heavy as those she brought. We usually gave her a ride down to the bus in the village, but if we didn’t hurry she’d grab her bags and set off down the hill. What a wonderful role model for any young woman!