Bonding with Piedmont: Italyýs Undiscovered and Bountiful Region

By Victor D'Amico

Author Victor D'Amico and his wife, Yvonne, are both of Italian heritage. Although Vic's parents did not maintain ties with their origins, Yvonne's and her parents were very close to relatives and friends from Piedmont, and her intimate knowledge of the language and customs of her parent's birthplace, adds a unique perspective to this exploration of the region's attractions.

Share with Vic his personal and rewarding experiences of connecting with the people, the land, the cuisine, and the history of a different culture. He introduces us to a region with rich traditions and natural attributes that are enjoyed by its people.

The story of the author's Bonding with Piedmont covers over 50 years and gives a glimpse into a marriage and family as well as a window into people's behavior. You learn about Piedmont's history, its emergence as a leader in Italy's recovery from the war and mentally savor the area's splendid cuisine. When the author's son asks his parents to arrange his wedding near his grandmother's village, the bonding achieves new heights.

Bonding with Piedmont shows the author gaining an appreciation of his Italian heritage and reveals his conversion into a proud and knowledgeable proponent of a remarkable part of Italy with which few Americans are aware.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 23, 2006
• ISBN: 9780595821174

Victor D'Amico

Victor D'Amico is currently living in Syracuse, New York. He has previously written two travel books, Sharing a Lifetime Passion for Europe and Bonding with Piedmont. He now adds his personal life experiences to complete his memoirs.

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Copyright © 2006 by Victor D’Amico

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Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Beginning the Attachment

VICTOR WEDS A PIEDMONT GIRL

YVONNE’S EARLY YEARS IN PIEDMONT

BEGINNING OF MY TRAVELS

YVONNE AND THE CHILDREN LIVING IN IVREA

Expanding the Relationship

RECOLLECTIONS ON HOW IT HAPPENED

THE LAND AND ITS PAST

MY PIEDMONT FAMILY

FRIENDS IN ASTORIA

THE RETURN TO PIEDMONT

THE SPLENDID CUISINE

AN ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION

VESTIGNE, A FAMILY HAVEN

COMMUTING TO PIEDMONT

OUR SON’S PIEDMONT WEDDING

AN UNEXPECTED RETURN

Passing of the Matriarch

INES’S LAST YEAR

PUTTING INES TO REST

SELLING INES’S HOUSE

RENEWING ACQUAINTANCES

TREATS FOR OUR PALATE

Returning as a Tourist

THOUGHTS ABOUT TRAVELING

FIRST STOP IVREA

OFF TO LAGO ORTA

AMEMORABLE DINNER PARTY

REKINDLING CONNECTIONS

GETTING TO KNOW TURIN AND THE FORNERAS

SIMPLE PLEASURES OF THE LANGHE ROERO

SAYING FAREWELL

Epilogue

To my wife, Yvonne

Acknowledgements  

In so many ways my wife, Yvonne, has helped me in writing this book. In fact, it would have been impossible to write without her assistance. She helped me recall most things that happened, remembered the names of people we met, and made sure I correctly spelled all the Italian words I included. Traveling with her made all my experiences more meaningful and gave me insights I could never have achieved by myself. Her support was invaluable, reading everything I wrote and making helpful suggestions.

Some other constructive help I received was from Mary Graham whose literary skill allowed her to propose several major improvements to my manuscript.

The comments my son, Larry, made when he read a draft helped to make several things clearer for the reader.

The thorough editing performed by Shelia Lange turned my manuscript into a more accomplished piece of writing.

Finally, my son Ray gave me invaluable help in copying my photos and getting them into the right formats for insertion into the manuscript and submitting them for publication.

Introduction  

During my lifetime, I was fortunate to have the opportunity to both travel and live in Europe. I shared most of these experiences with my wife, Yvonne, and a few years ago we wrote a book together about these special events in our lives. All these happenings took place over a period of more than 50 years and during this time I was unknowingly undergoing a bonding with a location known as Piedmont, a region in the northwest corner of Italy.

Many reasons led me to visit this area and I began to realize that my frequent stopovers and my exposure to Yvonne’s parents, their friends and relatives were developing in me a deep appreciation for my Italian heritage. I found the land, the people, and the cuisine to be both a source of pleasure and pride. However, I realized that others didn’t feel the same way when I would peruse Italian travel books and notice that most writers paid little attention to the attractions of Piedmont. Tuscany, Umbria, Sicily, Rome and Venice all had whole books devoted to their charm. I became curious and began to collect information and read Italian history to try and understand more about my adopted homeland. I then realized I had a desire to make others aware of Piedmont and the influence it had on my family and me

My passage into another culture began with meeting Yvonne while attending graduate school. Piedmont ethnicity was her way of life right from birth and throughout her life she maintained and expanded her connection. My family and I tagged along as Yvonne preserved her heritage while still living a typical suburban American lifestyle. The bonding process started in earnest for me when our children spent their preschool days living in Ivrea. My visits at the time introduced me to the region and visiting with Piedmontese friends in Astoria, Queens gave me and our children a further understanding of the culture. Returning for a visit when the children were teenagers enabled us to expand our awareness of living in Italy.

Over the years, Yvonne and I had numerous opportunities, such as son’s wedding and an anniversary celebration, to return and witness the strong connections Italians have to family, friends, food, wine, and the land. Even during our last visit we learned new things about some basic activities in the lives of the inhabitants. Meeting the people, seeing them go about their way of life, and sharing meals with them always rivaled the attraction of the landscape and antiquities to which we were treated to in our travels about Piedmont.

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Beginning the Attachment  

VICTOR WEDS A PIEDMONT GIRL  

My family was Italian-American and I grew up in a typical ethnic neighborhood in Queens, New York, which in the 1950s was considered the suburbs. Most of my friends were second generation Italian, Irish, Polish, or German; we hung out together without being very aware of the many differences in our backgrounds. Each nationality got along quite well; even my father’s Bocce Club had many non-Italians who became quite skilled at the game.

My grandparents who came over from Italy in the 1890s had passed away when I was a child, so I never learned much from them about the old country. My parents sometimes spoke Italian to some of our relatives, but never to me or my brother or sister. They were too involved in being Americans. Some of our Italian heritage was expressed on Thursdays and Sundays when we ate pasta with tomato sauce.

Like many old world Italians, my parents had a strong sense of family responsibility. My father managed to finish grammar school before he found it necessary to get a job. He was quite strict in enforcing discipline, but his years as a real estate and wine salesman made him at ease with people and well liked by everyone. He was always ready to give assistance to our relatives having personal problems and he was known as dependable Charley.

My mother, Jennie, also had a limited education, but received some very useful training in the garment factories of New York City. She was a wonderful caregiver who never let her work at home as a talented dressmaker interfere with the attention she gave to us children. I remember her customers coming to the house with a picture from a magazine and a piece of material, asking her to make them a dress or suit. She took some measurements, made a pattern, cut the material, and after a few visits her customers went away with smiles on their faces. She was a modest woman whose skills and achievements were recognized by very few outside of our family.

I was a good student and encouraged to attend college. In 1952 I completed a master’s program at New York University’s college of engineering. It was during this year that I met my wife, Yvonne, and my outlook on being of Italian background started to change dramatically. My introduction to Yvonne and Piedmont occurred at the same time and, when I look back on the event, one might even say that fortune had meant us to meet, since it occurred in a rather unusual way. I often went to Saturday night dances sponsored by various organizations at a Legion Hall in the borough of Queens where I lived. On this particular night my friends and I decided we were in the mood for something different. So we left and got on a train going into the big city and, for the very first time, we went to a well-known ballroom called Manhattan Center. It was quite a large place and attracted groups from all over New York to celebrate a particular occasion. This night we wandered into a dance being put on by people with ties to Castelnuovo Belbo, a small town in Piedmont. I had never even heard of Piedmont, let alone Castelnuovo Belbo. As was the custom, I wandered around searching for someone to ask to dance. I spied a very attractive young lady sitting with two of her friends and an older woman, who must have been the mother of one of the girls. Italian mothers have always been very protective of their daughters. I approached the young lady with some uneasiness, afraid she would refuse my invitation to dance. In addition, I wasn’t ready to face the possible scrutiny of her mother. However, in spite of these concerns, I wasn’t shy and asked, Would you like to dance?

She looked up, smiled, and said, Yes. That simple word would change the course of my life.

I felt happy by her attention and spent the whole evening getting to know her. I found out she had left her mother at home and she was at the dance only because her girlfriend, Norma, didn’t want to go to the dance alone with her mother. This was also Yvonne’s first time at Manhattan Center and her parents, like those of her two girl friends, Lucy and Norma, had all emigrated from the Piedmont region of Italy.

We dated for a few months and I discovered more about Yvonne’s family and friends. Her parents, Ines and Lorenzo, lived in Astoria, Queens, and were part of a community of people who all had ties to Piedmont and spoke the dialect. She had attended Julia Richmond High School with her friends, Lucy and Norma, and was at the time a sophomore studying languages at Queens College. Her friends had attended secretarial school and were now working; it seemed Yvonne was starting to break some bonds with her upbringing by attending college.

During this period I was getting my master’s degree and obtained a job at an aerospace company on Long Island, which allowed me to get a draft deferment and avoid the Korean War. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do with my future, so I was rather cavalier in my dating relationship with Yvonne. While I was pondering my future, Yvonne made some changes in her upcoming plans by announcing she was going to continue her language program by spending a year studying in Italy. I was disappointed, but it seemed like such an exciting undertaking. During this period I also made a drastic change in my prospects by deciding that I would not apply for additional deferments. I was going to give myself up to Uncle Sam.

Over the next seven months while I continued working, Yvonne and I wrote weekly letters to each other and, for Christmas, we sent professional photos of one another as gifts. The picture helped me fall in love with her and my letters became even more ardent. Today I have the framed picture hanging on the wall in my office at home to remind me of this very romantic period in my life. Our writing not only brought us closer together, but also introduced me to places that would become an important part of our future lives. Ivrea, where she lived, and Turin, where she attended class were major cities in the industrial region of Piedmont. I was pleased to read about her adventures and learn about Italy, but I was more interested in getting to know Yvonne than learning about Piedmont, so I was very happy to learn that she was cutting short her studies and returning home. I wasn’t at the dock when Yvonne left for Italy, but I was there with her parents, anxiously anticipating her return.

Our months of writing and sharing our thoughts convinced me that I wanted to propose to her when we met again. I believe our separation and the need to express ourselves through the written word accelerated the progress of our relationship. Personal oral communication can often make one reticent and cause embarrassment, but when you are alone with your thoughts, expressing yourself seems so much easier. I didn’t have much time to convince her about my love and affection because, after her return in March, I was scheduled in April to be drafted into the Army.

I proposed on our first date after her return. Yvonne was somewhat surprised but, fortunately, the feelings I expressed in my letters prepared her to give a slightly hesitant acceptance to my proposal. My awkward spoken words on that night didn’t do justice to my feelings, so her cautious acceptance was understandable. In the weeks before I entered the Army I was able to be more convincing, and we parted knowing we had become soulmates.

Her parents were not overjoyed with her decision because, although I was of Italian descent, I was not from Piedmont and didn’t speak the language. I was really an American, and they wanted her to follow the path of several girlfriends who were married or engaged to some fine young men from Piedmont. It is interesting to note that three of her very close friends would marry men from the region. The Piedmont families in Astoria knew one another and word got around when an eligible bachelor came to America seeking his fortune.

After being drafted, I was sent to Ft. Bliss at El Paso, Texas, and told I was to become an instructor at the Army’s school for training radar maintenance personnel. It was an interesting assignment, but I really missed Yvonne and I was tired of romancing her by mail. I convinced her we should get married while I was still in the Army, so 14 months after I arrived in Texas I returned home three days before our wedding date. We were so busy with last minute plans we hardly had time for each other. After a lovely ceremony and a nice dinner at a Manhattan hotel, we took off in a used car I hurriedly purchased after my return. Our honeymoon plans were a 4000 mile car trip to El Paso by way of Miami, Florida.

Several other instructors had their wives with them, so we easily made friends and had a wonderful environment for beginning our marriage. Several months after we settled into our apartment we sent some pictures home to Yvonne’s mother, and she wrote back saying how upset she was to see how thin Yvonne had become. The hot weather in El Paso had dampened Yvonne’s appetite; Italian mothers are always concerned if you don’t eat properly, so the following week a Piedmont care package arrived. It contained several salamis, assorted cheeses, and jars of some preserved antipasto dishes Ines had made. We enjoyed them, but we never sent any more pictures home.

While I was fulfilling my military obligation, Yvonne got herself a job selling in El Paso’s largest department store. We were even able to afford a maid once a week to help with some of the chores. Our community of friends was quite large and, though we worked hard, there was ample time to enjoy their company. We always thought it was a wonderful way to start a marriage.

After I was discharged from the army we returned to New York City and lived with my parents for a few months while I taught a couple of courses at my alma mater for a semester. Yvonne got to really know my parents and I had a chance to use my Army teaching experience and again enjoy the college ambiance. Driving across the country twice and living in El Paso had made me familiar with places beyond New York City and convinced me that I wanted to settle in a smaller community. After several interviews in the Northeast, I decided Syracuse was where I wanted to continue my career. In the late spring of 1956 I began working as an engineer at General Electric and Yvonne started her job as a full-time homemaker. I must have made the right decision because, almost 50 years later we still call Syracuse home.

It wasn’t until years later that I realized my marriage to Yvonne not only started my family life but also my introduction to the Piedmont culture. We both grew up in New York City and shared some similar feelings about the place, but our backgrounds were distinctly different. My parents were first generation Americans and they had severed their ties with the old world, while Yvonne’s parents lived in America, but never detached themselves from their origins. This beginning has evolved over many years into a bonding with a people and an area that has given me many gratifying moments in my life.

Of course, Yvonne’s connection to Piedmont began at birth, and all through her youth it was foremost in her development. However, as a teenager she was finally able to personally see all the people and places she had heard about. These experiences led to a bond that made it easy for her to instill in me some interest in Piedmont and started me in developing my own relationship to that area.

YVONNE’S EARLY YEARS IN PIEDMONT  

When Yvonne was growing up, she heard a lot about Piedmont and especially the town of Ivrea and the village of Vestigne. The town was where her father was raised, and the village was where her grandmother, Maria spent many years bringing up her mother, Ines, and her uncles, Berto and Baldo. At the age of 63, Maria came to New York in 1939 and cared for Yvonne for 10 years while her mother worked. Her grandmother was a sensitive and gentle woman who spent many hours caring for Yvonne and telling her about life in Italy. Yvonne loved having her as part of her life and she was disappointed when after the war Maria wanted to go back to Vestigne to live out her remaining years. She said she felt God might not find her in America. Baldo, a bachelor, believed that at 73 Maria was too old to live by herself, so he decided, after many years of living in France, to return to be with his mother. Berto didn’t survive the war because he lost his life fighting with the Italian partisans. Maria and Baldo bought a very old and primitive house in Vestigne and resumed their lives of many years before.

During her years in New York City, Maria learned very little English since she found friends who either spoke French or Piedmontese. Yvonne was Maria’s constant companion, so she became quite proficient in these two languages. With the help of translators and her slight knowledge of English Maria managed to pass the written test to become an American citizen. She went to the swearing-in ceremony with her daughter and Yvonne’s French-speaking godmother. The judge became somewhat charmed by Maria’s answers to his questions and being in a playful mode asked her. Would you help defend the United States in time of war?

She replied, I am too old, but you can take my daughter.

I don’t know if Ines appreciated her patriotic spirit.

In 1950, Europe was beginning to get back to normal and Lorenzo decided he wanted to return after being away for 20 years. Although he hadn’t been there in a while, there were friends and family he had kept in touch with over the years and he wished to meet them again. Yvonne, who was 15 years old at the time, was excited when he said he wanted her to accompany him on his journey. At that time it was a real expedition getting to Piedmont. They went by boat to Cherbourg, took a train to Paris, where they stayed before boarding another train for Turin. Fortunately for Yvonne, her father decided to spend an extra day in Paris before proceeding. Lorenzo was not a sightseer, but a friend who crossed over with him had a son who was Yvonne’s age, who also wanted to see Paris. Both he and Yvonne spoke some French and they were eager to see gay Paree. They wore themselves out touring a city they found to be very fascinating. It was an exciting experience for two 15 year olds.

Yvonne and her father were planning to stay at her aunt and uncle’s hotel near the railroad station in Ivrea. It was a one-star dwelling, with small rooms, shared toilet facilities, and a popular old-world restaurant that served appetizing simple meals. A Sunday treat prepared by her aunt was ravioli stuffed with meat that had been roasted in the oven for hours and served with a sauce made from broth that was drizzled over the meat as it roasted. The dish had an outstanding flavor and the restaurant was always crowded on Sunday. Aunt Illa or Magna Illa as Yvonne called her in the Piemontese dialect, had spent some time in the United States and returned to Italy prior to the war to run the hotel with her husband. She was a hard working woman but a poor businessperson and after her husband died in 1954, she had difficulty making her hotel profitable. She was always very kind to Yvonne who dearly loved her aunt. I met her years later on several occasions but she was always very busy. I never remember her sitting down to talk with Yvonne.

Yvonne found shortly after she arrived that her father would go off by himself to visit old friends and, since her aunt and uncle were very busy, she found herself alone a lot. Her time was taken up having evening conversations with some of the Olivetti engineers staying at the hotel, walking around the town, and visiting her grandmother in Vestigne.

Ivrea has a population of about 25,000 people and is the home of a major Italian industry, the Olivetti Company. In those years it was known as the IBM of Italy. Its first manufacturing plant was built in the early 1900’s and for years while the company was protected from international competition it prospered, but its very generous worker benefits have in recent times led to difficulties in being competitive. A job with the company is highly valued and requires some inside help to obtain. When Yvonne was staying at the hotel, she improved her Italian as she regaled some of the Olivetti engineers with tales about life in America. It made Yvonne feel quite grown up. From the hotel she could also witness the stampede of Olivetti workers on their bicycles as they rushed home for their mid-day meal and three-hour-work break. It was interesting to see in later years the people’s progress from this simple type of transportation to Vespas and then to small Fiat automobiles.

The town of Ivrea is not very big; from the Olivetti factory on the outskirts to the old town center. It is only about a 10-minute walk. Driving is prohibited in much of this area, so it can be a pleasant place to stroll around. Strolling or promenading is what most Italians do; it is both pleasurable and good exercise. The Via Palestro is a pedestrian street that contains several appealing shops. These pedestrian only areas are Italy’s and many other European countries’ approach to a shopping mall. When I visited in later years I found the shops exhibiting delicious looking antipasti and pastries to be the most pleasing to me. But, just strolling around the area’s narrow streets on a nice day is an enjoyable way to spend a few hours compared with the often-hectic excursions at our shopping centers.

At the edge of the old section of Ivrea are the piazzas Freguglia and Rondolino which lead to newer parts of the town. On this corner you find the popular Standa department store, with convenient nearby parking. However, on Friday everyone goes to the very large farmer’s market located just a few blocks away.

One of the first things Yvonne did after she arrived was visit her grandmother in Vestigne. When she arrived for her first visit she was shocked that their house was so primitive by American standards. Its lower floor was a dirt surface, with a wall that separated her uncle’s shop area from a small kitchen containing a wood stove, a table, and hutch, both of which Baldo had made. Visitors sat on a small cot near the stove. Separate doors from the front yard led to the workshop and kitchen areas. There was no running water and one had to go to the fountain in town with a bucket to collect what was needed. The front yard was separated into a fenced-in area that housed the chickens they raised while the rest of the space contained a vegetable garden. To use the toilet you had to visit the outhouse surrounded by the chickens. A second floor contained two bedrooms, each, with very crude beds containing stalks and leaves for a mattress. Electricity was the only modern convenience that the house possessed. Many parts of Italy did not receive the benefits of this technology until the late 1950’s, so they had some reason to be grateful.

In New York Maria had become accustomed to the things we take for granted, but in Italy at that time there was still a lot of updating that was needed. It shows that the lure of returning to one’s roots makes some people willing to overlook a lot. In spite of the primitive conditions, Yvonne noticed during her subsequent visits how happy mother and son were living