My grandmother came over on “the boat”  from Bovina, Foggia, Italy in 1927 at the age of 7. She was a proud Italian and a proud American, and blended those traditions every step of the way. She spent summers cheering on the Yankees. And Sundays were always for macaroni and family (as were Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays with leftovers). She loved the song “America The Beautiful,” and passed on her love for America each time through the chorus. The house was always filled with the hum of the am radio, Sinatra, Bennett and Cuomo casually filling our ears. We loved “I Love Lucy” reruns and patiently watched the Home Shopping Network with one hand on the phone receiver in hopes to call in one day.
On my 16th birthday, my grandmother gave me a crucifix ring, which I learned was a tradition that had been in the family for a few generations. The younger generations received the ring at 16 years of age, and the older generations at 50. I was excited to reach this milestone and cherished this special gift so much, that I kept it safely nestled in its box, safe from harm.
Two years later my grandmother passed away. I knew that it was finally time to wear the ring, as a way to keep her with me at this moment when I missed her most. I put on the ring, and here it sits 15 years later having rarely left its place on my left hand. There are many stories and traditions that I will never know, but this one I get to carry around with me and continue to share with the next generation.

– Angela M Perrone

Relationship:  Grandchild of im/migrant Grandchild of im/migrant