Sicilian Sundays took off in the wake of the pandemic. Like so many, my ancestors were part of the influx of immigrants to America from southern and eastern Europe in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. My great-great-grandparents were one of the 100,000 Sicilians who left for the United States in 1906. On the Lower East side of Manhattan, on Chrystie and Stanton Street, generations of my family grew - navigating the shift between Sicilian and American culture, language, and traditions. While homemade tomato sauce and Italian sausages had always been our “go-to” for family and friend gatherings, we had yet to explore our Sicilian heritage further. With time on his hands and current events forcing him to reflect, my Dad implemented traditional Italian Sunday dinners to reconnect with our family. The exponential uncertainty due to the COVID-19 pandemic on top of an already confused 13-year-old girl’s brain made me lose sight of my values. I begrudgingly joined my family at the table, often commenting on the food’s appearance and questioning why my Dad was so invested in making these recipes with food we had never before eaten. It has taken me five years to appreciate what these dinners symbolized - and I can only express how grateful I am that my Dad wrote, photographed, and created two incredible books documenting all those family meals. Too much has already been lost, but these diaries will outlive me and keep a part of my family’s stories alive.  
 

– JG

Relationship:  Great-grandchild of im/migrant or more Great-grandchild of im/migrant or more