Rebecca Merino
ctar@ strauss.udel.edu

My grandmother on my mother's side has roots in southern Italy. Her parents came here and lived on a farm in upstate N.Y. Although my Grandma never learned to speak Italian, she remembers a few wise sayings and insults, which have always amused me. Some of her best stories are about how much she hated the farm, growing grapes, tending animals, etc. She always says that I would have to force-feed her grape jelly if she were to eat it one more time. My Grandpa's family was from a Jewish section of Russia. Although I don't really remember him too well, I have inherited his blue eyes, unlike my parents or sisters, and he is the one I most resemble in my family. I recently found his dog tags from World War II, and learned that he was a dental assistant in the army.

My father's parents passed away when he was eight years old, so a lot of my heritage is a little foggy. His father was partially Puerto-Rican, but was adopted and never told what his father's heritage was. His mother was Italian, but we're not sure what region. Because my father's eldest sister raised them in a time when being Puerto-Rican was a disadvantage, she raised them as Italians, so that culture was lost to them.

Although I haven't inherited the ability, most of my family cooks wonderful foods. Our Italian heritage can be smelled down the street at dinner time, and my Grandpa's recipe for matza ball soup is amazing. I spent most of this past summer in Italy with friends, and the similarities between their culture and the traditions of my family were many. Dinner is a social event, where everyone eats, talks, laughs, and argues. Company is indulged yet made to feel at home. It was a great experience to see where some of the traditions which have travelled through my family came from.