Growing up, playing bocce with my family was one of my windows into my dad’s Italian heritage. My dad’s mom’s parents immigrated to America in 1907 before she was born in 1910. My dad’s dad immigrated to America in 1922. After my dad’s parents met, they settled into the working class in an Italian American neighborhood in Rockland County. Hearing my dad talk about the work of his dad and uncles at the paper mill, it was simple to see how the low-impact and accessible sport of lawn bowling (historically, mostly played by older Italian men) could fit a community of laborers who worked long days. Bocce has a slow and methodical rhythm, with time for conversation, quips, and arguments about scoring – that’s when the diehards break out the measuring tape. My dad would measure by lining up his steps from heel to toe, then using his fingers, laying out the width of one hand and then the other. There is a seriousness to the measuring – an importance in upholding standards of fairness. The team with a ball nearest to the pallino (the little ball) gets a point for each ball closer than the opponent’s closest ball. My greatest joy was to hear my dad’s exuberant cry of “spaco” when he (or others…he was an equal opportunity enthusiast) knocked the opponent’s ball away with a toss that could be both offensive and defensive. The tradition was both the game and the time spent together, competing, measuring, and shouting with joy.

– Zach Libresco

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