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Health & Fitness

My Italian Father

Recalling life with my Dad

I was blessed with great parents.  Mom’s people came from Yugoslavia (Croatia now) in the mid 1920s, and Dad’s people came from Northern Italy (Parma and Reggio Emelia area) also in the mid 1920s.  Both of my parents are first generation Americans, born and raised in San Francisco, they met while in school. Neither of them had English as their first language.

Dad loved my Mom and when they went to the movies together at the Granada Theatre, Mom said as they walked down the stairs from the balcony after the movies were over, Dad had her arm in his and hummed the wedding march, “Dum dum da dum, Dum dum da dum…” She said she hated it but I am pretty sure she giggled and liked it.  Dad was pretty cute back then, an Italian stallion at 6’1” with dark curly hair. But she said he was one of the few kids in school with a car and he always wore slacks and not jeans. He was an only child and maybe somewhat spoiled. 

Mom was really beautiful, and from what I have heard over the years from people who knew her then, she one of the prettiest girls in school. 

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Mom’s date for the senior ball at Balboa High School was Petar Jakovina (owner of Petar’s in Lafayette), a school mate of Yugoslavian decent.  Pete was in love with my Mom, but he was not too welcome by her brothers, one of which was boxer, Tony Bosnich, who thought Pete was a womanizer and not good enough for their sister.  This little fact about the Senior Ball was a bone of contention when I was a kid, as I heard about it from time to time. Dad was still jealous years later.

I had heard about Pete from my Mom for years and never thought I would meet him.  I just remembered seeing him in Mom’s Yearbook from Bal wearing jeans with turned up hem, leaning on a car.  He was a cutie. Well, the day arrived.  We drove my parents to the Balboa High School 50-year reunion down the Peninsula years ago, and Pete was in attendance.  I finally got to meet the handsome man with a head of beautiful white hair at that time. Believe me when I say I stifled myself and resisted the urge to say, “Dad, at long last we meet.”

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After he walked away, and Dad was out of earshot, I whispered to my Mom “Mom, what were you thinking?  That could have been my Dad.”  Mom giggled in her cute and familiar way.  My Dad hated him.  Mom could never say his name in Dad’s presence.  I finally understood why.

My parents were both Virgos, born on the same day but one year apart and complete opposites.  Mom was calm and easy going and Dad was domineering, serious, and had a jealous streak.  After high school, Mom worked for Koret of California in the office and did some modeling for them.  When Dad got out of the Navy, they married. Mom always said her mother thought my Dad was a good prospect for a husband because he was good to his mother.  And why not, my Nona wouldn’t have it any other way.  She was the proverbial matriarch of the family.

I always say I was the practice child, being their firstborn.  Young parents practice on their firstborn child and grow up with them, so to speak.  Dad was super strict with me.  If I was a boy, I doubt that he would have treated a boy the same way.  I am ashamed to say it now, but many times when I was a teenager, I uttered under my breath that I hated my Dad.  I never said it aloud.  Somehow I thought that if you didn’t say it out loud, God would not hear it and would not punish you for it. 

I had many occasions to say it.  He was beyond strict.  He certainly did not trust me and maybe he knew something that I didn’t.  He had problems with the way I dressed, but sometimes your body dictates your look and Dad always said I looked like a “putana.”  I always said silently, “Good, that is exactly the look I am going for!!”  Too many years of wearing a uniform to school, I liked flamboyant looking sexy clothing which suited my budding personality. I had this great leopard faux fur bikini purchased from Fredrick’s of Hollywood when I was about 15.  I loved it. What was not to love – it was leopard.  Sometimes I think I may have been a jungle cat in another life but that is another story.  My home is full of leopard, tiger, cougar, and cheetah décor and I love it in clothing and accessories too. 

Anyway, we had an above the ground pool in our backyard in Newark. Dad made me so ashamed of my body that I practically wore my towel into the pool.  That bikini was my bathing suit for many years.  I could not bear to throw it away.  It is in a box somewhere up in my attic.  Why? Who knows.  After all, I could not fit any part of my body in it today. 

I really loved my Dad, but there were times I did not like him very much.  I married young to get out of the house and away from him, but I spent a lot of time at their house after I was married.  Only this time, he could not boss me around any more.  I used to tell my Mom that if I was married to him I probably would have killed him by now.  Maybe there is something in that old adage that two Italians probably should not marry.  I always said that Italian boys were tons of fun to play with but not to marry.  I know that is not true for everyone but that has been my experience.  I guess I have mostly been around the domineering Italian men.  Funny thing, none of my brothers took after my Dad. Not one of the four of them is domineering. I am sure my sisters-in-law are grateful for that.

Dad was very jealous and rightly so because Mom was beautiful inside and out.  There was a time back in 1973 when Dad and Mom went to San Francisco for an event.  Mom wore a beautiful three-piece forest green Palazzo Pant outfit, very fashionable at the time, which looked great with her green eyes.  She was stunning.  At the event, she was speaking to a nice looking gentleman at her table who knew her brother, my Uncle Tony.  Dad was livid.  All the way home, he had the windows down and nearly froze Mom to death with her little light-weight outfit on.  As I think back on it, he probably needed something to cool him off all the way home.

On the way home to Union City, he got off the freeway at the correct off-ramp, but along the way home, he pulled off the road and told Mom they were having car trouble.  This was about 2 AM and the area he pulled into was the site of a new subdivision. He told her to get out of the car and go to the house with the lights on and call “the kids” to come help with the car.  She got out of the car, and as soon as she did, he took off, leaving her in the dark, alone, in an unknown area.  She was fortunate to have some nice person let her in to call me at that time in the morning.  She was crying and did not know where she was. I ended up talking to the homeowner to get directions on how to find her.  Dad, in the meantime, went home, called my oldest brother and told him where she was and then went to bed.  I sent the ex-husband out to find her and he and my oldest brother both looked for her.  I am not sure who took her home, I think it was my ex-husband.

The next day when I went to their home, I went ballistic.  I always was respectful of my parents but that day, I unleashed years of anger on him.  I called him names that I would never ever say to my elders, let alone my Dad.  And, I remember threatening to kill him if he ever did a stupid thing like that again to my Mom.  She could have been kidnapped and murdered.  I was so angry.  Dad surprised me by taking what I dished out and I know he felt awful about what he did. He never did it again.

They were married for 54 years.  When Dad said “jump” my Mom said, “How high, honey.” She put up with a lot but that is what women did back then.

When they were newly married and Dad fixed steak seasoned with salt and pepper, Mom said she took the steak to the sink and washed off the seasoning, because her family did not season meats like that.  Dad yelled at her and she wanted to go home to her mother who lived across the street. Her mother sent her back home to my Dad. Mom learned to live with it and came to appreciate Dad’s culinary efforts.  He really was a great cook. 

Mom and I talked every day on the phone and I remember sometimes how I was astonished at what came out of her mouth.  Things that were drummed into her by my Dad like “a woman’s place in life.” When she would say that women shouldn’t do jobs that were traditionally held by men, I used to tell her she was brainwashed.  I was not happy to hear that women should be nurses and men should be doctors and things such as that and I called her on it.  She would giggle.  I was not amused.  What I would not give to be able to have those phone calls today. I miss her so.

When Mom found out she had cancer and only 45 days to live, she became liberated.  I was on the phone with her one day and while she was talking to me, Dad was hollering something to her in the background.  She paused with our conversation and said to him, “What, Reno?”  I don’t know what he said, but I will never forget what she said.  She said “Fxxk You.” 

What?  Mom NEVER EVER swore.  I said, “Mom, did you just say the “F” word?”  She said, “Yes, I love that word.”  And then she said the word at least five times in a row right after that, “F” “F” “F” “F” “F”.  Wow, how liberated she was in her last days.  She finally put him in his place.  Bravo, I thought.  You go girl!!!

When we were over visiting them one day shortly thereafter, Mom flipped Dad off.  This was a new woman!  She didn’t quite know how to “flip” properly, but you knew what she was doing.  She was my hero, a brave new woman.

A few years after Mom passed away, Dad had some shoulder surgery and was in a convalescent hospital recuperating.  Bill and I went to visit him there.  When we left I told Bill that I wanted to choke the life out of him.  Bill asked me why.  I asked him if he did not hear Dad calling the staff “Sweetie” and “Honey” when he wanted something.  I told my husband that Dad rarely talked to Mom that way.  He did call her “Hon” but that was it.  I hated hearing him talk that way to strangers.  I know it is terrible to say, but I wanted to yank that shoulder out of its socket in the worst way, and I am not a violent woman.

It was kind of cute one year when we took them to a Patti Page concert in Reno.  We had great seats.  Dad blurted out loud, “I love you, Patti.”  All of a sudden and totally out of character, Mom became a green-eyed jealous wife.  She kept repeating what Dad said the entire weekend like a trained parrot and throwing it up in his face.  As I write this I can’t help but laugh because it was really funny.  There was absolutely no reason for jealousy in this instance, but she nagged at him anyway.  She knew just how to push his buttons and she knew exactly when to stop. 

Prior to her death, I told her Dad wanted their ashes to be mingled together.  Mom made a face and didn’t really like that idea. But that was Dad’s wishes and he trumped hers.  They were scattered together in the Bay while we were on a yacht supplied by the Navy with many members of our family in attendance.  I always say I want my ashes scattered along Rodeo Drive in Hollywood.  Since I can’t afford anything there, I may as well rest in peace there.

We miss Dad’s great Sunday family dinners.  After Mom passed away, those ended because Dad was legally blind and could not see well enough to prepare those meals.  We drove to Fremont on Sundays instead and took Dad out to dinners in various restaurants near where he lived, which he loved. 

Dad lived for 3.5 years after Mom passed away. He was in a wheelchair and I am sure he was lonely without my Mom.  She was the life of the family.  Thank God for my brother, Gino, who took care of Dad’s creature comforts as well as bathing him on a daily basis, since he lived close to Dad.  It is sad to see a grown man back to being as helpless as a young child. 

I am sure both Mom and Dad are both in heaven together and I can’t help but think that Mom is still flipping him off.

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