Why the Plum for Courage 2005 1958, Easter Sunday, with my father and brother "Why the plum for courage?" I asked, picturing courage as a great oak. "Yes, yes," answered my Japanese friend. "The plum for courage, because the plum puts forth blossoms while the snow is still on the ground." Anne Morrow Lindbergh North to the Orient EXCERPT CHAPTER ~ONE~ Providence, Rhode Island, Early 1950s Poppa-Non and Nonie Tomatoes in the sun Love, laughter, and curls The Garden of Eden A shrill whistle blows, hurting my ears. My cousins and I peek through the doorway to watch Nonie working in the factory. The room is filled with tight lines of colored thread weaving in and out making a piece of cloth faster than my eyes can see it happen. It's noisy magic pounding, beating, and squeaking but as beautiful as the fireworks on the fourth of July. This time I remember to hold my ears before the second whistle blows; as it sounds, the machines stop, and it's quiet. Nonie is so happy to see us, her voice chirps like a bird and she speaks mostly in Italian saying, "We getta home ah say, before it gets a dark ah. No getta losta ina the woods ah. Stay outta the woods ah." It's hot outside, but she puts on her green wool coat with a fur collar and wraps a kerchief around her head. Even though we can see the factory from behind our yard, with an empty lot in between, Nonie can't figure out how to get home; so we meet her every night when the whistle blows. She continues warning us, half in Italian and half in English, on the walk home, "Stayah awayah fromah de lotz ah. See de fresh boyzah running? Lookah, lookah." She points to scurrying noises. "Seeya boyz ah?. De little shitzah. Fa brutto." She shakes her head saying, "Bad ah." She holds my hand, pulling at it while saying, "Hurry ah. It's a getta darkah soon." The minute we get into the yard, she pulls the gate closed and locks it. She goes right up the stairs, resting on a handrail saying, "Ah, Ah." She takes a rest on each step as she climbs, pulling herself up by the railing with her hands. I beat her to her doorway and I am already inside sitting in her chair waiting to watch her put a little pot of coffee on to percolate. She sits rocking forward, letting out an "Ah" and back, "Ah." Her voice chirps in a high pitch excitedly as she talks to me. "Bella, Bella, beautiful like a little bird. No worry about notah thing ah. Noi abbiamo cafe, me andah you, and we mangare, fresha bread." She rocks back and says, "Ah." It takes her a long time to say English words to me. She only knows one story by heart and cannot read from any of my storybooks. She tells me how she got to this country from her old country far away. It's the same story every night; but it's a good story, and it makes her so happy to tell it. "Ah, Ah," Nonie's eyes sparkle as she talks: "We comeah toah thezah country by accidente. My ah sistah Lenah and me in Italy went to have a picnic with a basketa ofa food, ah and we go a to the ocean and sitta on a mountain. It gets a darka. Oh, aya!" Her eyes get wide, and she acts afraid. "And when a Lenah lights a fire, the mountain moves, fastah and fastah. The wind almost ah blewa us ahwaya. We sitta not ona mountain, but a bigga fisha, a big black a whale. We so a scared, holding on, until, Oh, aya! the whale stops and ah leaves us in the America. There's no wayah to go home, so we stay ah here." Nonie rocks back. "Ah, we stayah here, Ah! Okay?" We wait together, watching for the pot to percolate so she can lower the flame. Then when the coffee is just the right color popping through the little glass knob on top, she gets up again to turn off the flame and passes by the window. Looking down, she starts to scream in Italian, "Mafalda! Mafah!" I understand my mother's name and run to look out the window to see if she is being attacked by a wild dog, but she is just on the grass in her swim suit getting a tan. She yells back up to Nonie, "Mamma, there's nothing wrong with this suit." "Mafa! Mafa!" Nonie's eyes are black and bulging, her hands are clenched shaking, as she calls down to my mother, "A shame ah, for all a the men to see, put a some a clothes on. Ashamed, ashamed, Mafa get ah inside the house ah like that, the men are the animahlaas -a-ni-mals to see you." "Oh all right, Mamma," she sighs sleepily, "I have to put dinner on anyway. And send that Mary Ellen down. Her father will be home any minute." Nonie is still yelling something back in Italian, "Keista, Keista Keyest a Kah," as she makes the sign of the cross against her chest. ©2005 The above excerpts from WHY THE PLUM FOR COURAGE (232 page published book )by Zenga publishing MANY NOT be copied or reproduced without express written consent from the publisher www.zengapublishing.com |
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A Memoir Mary Ellen Sinclair |
