Hey everybody,
This isn't a travel story, but it's kind of an amazing story anyway. My grandma passed away a few weeks ago and to say she had a remarkable 102 years on earth is a bit of an understatement. I'm going to let the text of my mom's eulogy speak for itself.
Take 'er easy,
Dave
In 1912, my mother’s nineteen-year-old parents Giulio Bertolucci and Assida Baldini were married in Viareggio, Italy. (Our native Viareggio is a Tuscan coastal town of beach resorts, fisherman, merchant marines and famous for its winter Carnival).
Like many contemporaries, my grandparents decided to come to America to improve their lives. My mother’s mother had a brother and uncle in San Francisco, so they came to the city by the bay, infamous Barbary Coast and all. They settled, of course, in the Italian neighborhood.
In 1913, Nonno Giulio and Nonna Assida welcomed baby Raffaello and on April 1, 1916 my mother was born in San Mateo close to here on Delaware Street (near San Mateo High School). At that time, my grandfather, a masonry contractor was working on the Carolands Mansion in Hillsborough.
When she was 2, Velia survived the devastating Spanish Flu pandemic.
The family moved back to San Francisco and survived WWI.
My grandparents worked long hours with the goal of returning home, so my mother and uncle were cared for by English-speaking nuns at a day-care center. As a result, when Velia was 3 and her family returned to Italy, she only spoke very broken Italian.
When she got to Viareggio, Velia was teased mercilessly. That experience marked her for life, so much so that she resolved to learn the language of any place where she might find herself.
Velia grew up with many of her first cousins in the same apartment building.
Little Velia was a tomboy. She was strong and fast. She tried to play with her brother and the other boys. She often heard, “Go away, you’re a girl!” The few times they did let her play, she beat them.
Velia was generous. She often gave up her small allowance to her beloved Raffaellino so he could go to the movies. She knew her brother dreamed of becoming a silent film director.
My grandmother loved to tell this story: When Velia was in 5th grade in Viareggio, my grandmother heard a knock at the door. She opened the door, surprised to see my mother standing there with her 5th grade teacher (who had been my mother’s teacher for 5 long years). The teacher said, “There is one month left before elementary school ends. She’s smart, she’s graduating. Just keep her home. I can’t deal with this anymore!”
Sadly, loss was a recurrent theme in Velia’s life: When Velia was 11, she lost her only brother, who was 14, to peritonitis. Velia also mourned the deaths of young uncles and an aunt.
Velia’s first cousins became brothers and sisters to her, a feeling she maintained all her life. She is the last of her first cousins to pass away.
As a teenager, Velia lived in Nice, France where my grandparents owned an Italian restaurant. Those were her happiest childhood memories. As she had resolved earlier, she quickly learned French and got up at 4:00 am to go to the market and buy fresh ingredients for the restaurant.
Velia also lived in Corsica, Sicily and Sardinia during the time my grandfather co-owned a wholesale produce business.
At 17 Velia helped at her uncle’s produce store in Viareggio. Across the street was the Leoni Pharmacy. Velia met Angelo Leoni (better known to family and friends as “Gioli” and as Babbo – Tuscan for Dad – to us). He was the love of her life.
As in Romeo and Juliet, our Babbo’s wealthy family fought against this relationship for 5 years and tried everything to break them apart. Despite their efforts, there was something about Velia my dad could not resist. They married in April 1939 and moved to Venice, another of my mom’s favorite places, where life was very good for a brief time until WWII erupted.
My father went off to a war that Italians predicted would last for only two weeks. My parents went south to the region of Puglia where my father was stationed until a pregnant Velia went back to Viareggio with her parents because they thought they’d be safer there. Wrong.
They soon had to abandon Nazi-occupied Viareggio and seek refuge in the nearby village of Bozzano. There, in her 7th month of pregnancy, she gave birth to twin girls, Margherita and Elisa. The only available medical help was a midwife and one, very old doctor. The first baby died at 10 days old and the second at 12 days old.
Shortly thereafter, my father was taken prisoner by the Germans and swept off to a Polish labor camp. Hitler refused to declare Italians as prisoners of war, so the Geneva Convention rules did not apply. We can only imagine what took place at those camps. While trying to survive the bombings and invasions in Italy herself, Velia did not know for 16 months whether her husband was alive or dead.
Thankfully, my father returned home after the war 100 lbs lighter and in terrible condition but he was alive! They had another baby girl in 1946. Elisa caught pneumonia at six months and died. I was the 4th daughter.
In 1950 in Velia’s early 30s my parents followed my grandfather to the US hoping to make a better life for us. Though educated, my mother and father spoke no English. She learned English but never lost her accent.
They settled in the Bay Area and later my little sister Sirenetta was born at Mills Hospital in San Mateo.
They had a dream of returning to Italy that never came true.
My father became a U.S. citizen. He and my mom were proud to be in America. They never missed voting in an election. They loved celebrating Thanksgiving and the 4th of July.
Our home was open and welcoming. When it came time to set the table, we would routinely ask, “For how many people?” 20 guests were not uncommon on the weekends, eating great food, drinking Italian wine and often singing and dancing.
Velia and her mother were gourmet cooks, so people were deliciously surprised, especially at the Holidays where Tuscan traditions were maintained and preparations took days. Everything, even bread was fresh and from scratch and the magic was in each and every detail.
In Velia’s later years, she won several awards for her home-made vinegar.
She was very intuitive and smart. She was genuinely curious about people. And the woman could talk like no one else I’ve ever known.
Velia talked to everyone, from relatives to the mail carrier, our teachers, neighbors or complete strangers and remembered the smallest details about their lives.
She was thin skinned and never forgot if she felt offended by what someone said or did. There was a “Velia List” if you know what I mean. I was on it often. Some of you were too.
When she spoke to others, however, she had no filters. How many times did we think, “I can’t believe what she just said!?!!”
Our parents worked very hard at several endeavors: For a few years, they owned “Leoni Imports” on Burlingame Avenue. However, my father’s post-war life was scarred by frequent bouts of ill health. My mother had many health challenges as well. She was famous for going to doctors regularly. Some became family friends.
After all she’d been through, depression, anxiety and fear were her frequent companions.
Velia was a very strict and protective mother, partly because she feared what might happen to us.
I had been living in Italy for 11 years when my father passed away in March of 1980. In September of that year, my sons and I moved back to Burlingame to be with my mother and sister.
Grief for my father was strong with Velia but she told us repeatedly she got through it thanks to the company of her little grandsons David and Angelo Bresci who were the lights of her life to the end. In fact, Sirenetta and I became invisible: My sister and I could be in a room and our mom would totally ignore us in a rush to hug her grandsons. We knew where we stood and that was alright.
I was required to travel extensively for work. I was only able to do so because I knew my sons had a second home, would be well-taken-care-of and had someone who’d watch them like a hawk!
Although dementia marred her last years, Velia continued to socialize, eat her healthy Italian diet and frequently visit all her doctors who were amazed at her physical strength and health.
She was tenacious, spirited, ornery and the most determined person I have known.
For Velia, it was family first. She had a real soft spot for my husband John. She immediately loved his children Julie and David and David’s wife Mai. She was especially thrilled by little Maddie who blessed our family with her presence 2 ½ years ago. Velia and Maddie were fascinated with each other.
She lovingly welcomed my son Dave’s girlfriend Dawn into our family.
Velia considered friends extended family. Many of you felt that love.
Even in her last few years, as her dementia increased, our mother enjoyed being with family and friends, eating good food and, of course, talking. Towards the end, she even started singing.
I am comforted by and proud of the fact that I produced her two most wonderful and cherished gifts. Nothing lit up her eyes and made her as proud as her adored grandsons Dave and Angelo.
I want to honor and thank my sister, Sirenetta. Some of you have dealt with dementia and Alzheimer’s. It takes unbelievable devotion, love, strength and patience to confront that terrible affliction. Sirenetta was lovingly there for my mom 24/7. She is our hero!
Addio e grazie, Mamma. Stai tranquilla.
This isn't a travel story, but it's kind of an amazing story anyway. My grandma passed away a few weeks ago and to say she had a remarkable 102 years on earth is a bit of an understatement. I'm going to let the text of my mom's eulogy speak for itself.
Take 'er easy,
Dave
_________________________________________________________________________________
In 1912, my mother’s nineteen-year-old parents Giulio Bertolucci and Assida Baldini were married in Viareggio, Italy. (Our native Viareggio is a Tuscan coastal town of beach resorts, fisherman, merchant marines and famous for its winter Carnival).
Like many contemporaries, my grandparents decided to come to America to improve their lives. My mother’s mother had a brother and uncle in San Francisco, so they came to the city by the bay, infamous Barbary Coast and all. They settled, of course, in the Italian neighborhood.
In 1913, Nonno Giulio and Nonna Assida welcomed baby Raffaello and on April 1, 1916 my mother was born in San Mateo close to here on Delaware Street (near San Mateo High School). At that time, my grandfather, a masonry contractor was working on the Carolands Mansion in Hillsborough.
When she was 2, Velia survived the devastating Spanish Flu pandemic.
The family moved back to San Francisco and survived WWI.
My grandparents worked long hours with the goal of returning home, so my mother and uncle were cared for by English-speaking nuns at a day-care center. As a result, when Velia was 3 and her family returned to Italy, she only spoke very broken Italian.
When she got to Viareggio, Velia was teased mercilessly. That experience marked her for life, so much so that she resolved to learn the language of any place where she might find herself.
Velia grew up with many of her first cousins in the same apartment building.
Little Velia was a tomboy. She was strong and fast. She tried to play with her brother and the other boys. She often heard, “Go away, you’re a girl!” The few times they did let her play, she beat them.
Velia was generous. She often gave up her small allowance to her beloved Raffaellino so he could go to the movies. She knew her brother dreamed of becoming a silent film director.
My grandmother loved to tell this story: When Velia was in 5th grade in Viareggio, my grandmother heard a knock at the door. She opened the door, surprised to see my mother standing there with her 5th grade teacher (who had been my mother’s teacher for 5 long years). The teacher said, “There is one month left before elementary school ends. She’s smart, she’s graduating. Just keep her home. I can’t deal with this anymore!”
Sadly, loss was a recurrent theme in Velia’s life: When Velia was 11, she lost her only brother, who was 14, to peritonitis. Velia also mourned the deaths of young uncles and an aunt.
Velia’s first cousins became brothers and sisters to her, a feeling she maintained all her life. She is the last of her first cousins to pass away.
As a teenager, Velia lived in Nice, France where my grandparents owned an Italian restaurant. Those were her happiest childhood memories. As she had resolved earlier, she quickly learned French and got up at 4:00 am to go to the market and buy fresh ingredients for the restaurant.
Velia also lived in Corsica, Sicily and Sardinia during the time my grandfather co-owned a wholesale produce business.
At 17 Velia helped at her uncle’s produce store in Viareggio. Across the street was the Leoni Pharmacy. Velia met Angelo Leoni (better known to family and friends as “Gioli” and as Babbo – Tuscan for Dad – to us). He was the love of her life.
As in Romeo and Juliet, our Babbo’s wealthy family fought against this relationship for 5 years and tried everything to break them apart. Despite their efforts, there was something about Velia my dad could not resist. They married in April 1939 and moved to Venice, another of my mom’s favorite places, where life was very good for a brief time until WWII erupted.
My father went off to a war that Italians predicted would last for only two weeks. My parents went south to the region of Puglia where my father was stationed until a pregnant Velia went back to Viareggio with her parents because they thought they’d be safer there. Wrong.
They soon had to abandon Nazi-occupied Viareggio and seek refuge in the nearby village of Bozzano. There, in her 7th month of pregnancy, she gave birth to twin girls, Margherita and Elisa. The only available medical help was a midwife and one, very old doctor. The first baby died at 10 days old and the second at 12 days old.
Shortly thereafter, my father was taken prisoner by the Germans and swept off to a Polish labor camp. Hitler refused to declare Italians as prisoners of war, so the Geneva Convention rules did not apply. We can only imagine what took place at those camps. While trying to survive the bombings and invasions in Italy herself, Velia did not know for 16 months whether her husband was alive or dead.
Thankfully, my father returned home after the war 100 lbs lighter and in terrible condition but he was alive! They had another baby girl in 1946. Elisa caught pneumonia at six months and died. I was the 4th daughter.
In 1950 in Velia’s early 30s my parents followed my grandfather to the US hoping to make a better life for us. Though educated, my mother and father spoke no English. She learned English but never lost her accent.
They settled in the Bay Area and later my little sister Sirenetta was born at Mills Hospital in San Mateo.
They had a dream of returning to Italy that never came true.
My father became a U.S. citizen. He and my mom were proud to be in America. They never missed voting in an election. They loved celebrating Thanksgiving and the 4th of July.
Our home was open and welcoming. When it came time to set the table, we would routinely ask, “For how many people?” 20 guests were not uncommon on the weekends, eating great food, drinking Italian wine and often singing and dancing.
Velia and her mother were gourmet cooks, so people were deliciously surprised, especially at the Holidays where Tuscan traditions were maintained and preparations took days. Everything, even bread was fresh and from scratch and the magic was in each and every detail.
In Velia’s later years, she won several awards for her home-made vinegar.
She was very intuitive and smart. She was genuinely curious about people. And the woman could talk like no one else I’ve ever known.
Velia talked to everyone, from relatives to the mail carrier, our teachers, neighbors or complete strangers and remembered the smallest details about their lives.
She was thin skinned and never forgot if she felt offended by what someone said or did. There was a “Velia List” if you know what I mean. I was on it often. Some of you were too.
When she spoke to others, however, she had no filters. How many times did we think, “I can’t believe what she just said!?!!”
Our parents worked very hard at several endeavors: For a few years, they owned “Leoni Imports” on Burlingame Avenue. However, my father’s post-war life was scarred by frequent bouts of ill health. My mother had many health challenges as well. She was famous for going to doctors regularly. Some became family friends.
After all she’d been through, depression, anxiety and fear were her frequent companions.
Velia was a very strict and protective mother, partly because she feared what might happen to us.
I had been living in Italy for 11 years when my father passed away in March of 1980. In September of that year, my sons and I moved back to Burlingame to be with my mother and sister.
Grief for my father was strong with Velia but she told us repeatedly she got through it thanks to the company of her little grandsons David and Angelo Bresci who were the lights of her life to the end. In fact, Sirenetta and I became invisible: My sister and I could be in a room and our mom would totally ignore us in a rush to hug her grandsons. We knew where we stood and that was alright.
I was required to travel extensively for work. I was only able to do so because I knew my sons had a second home, would be well-taken-care-of and had someone who’d watch them like a hawk!
Although dementia marred her last years, Velia continued to socialize, eat her healthy Italian diet and frequently visit all her doctors who were amazed at her physical strength and health.
She was tenacious, spirited, ornery and the most determined person I have known.
For Velia, it was family first. She had a real soft spot for my husband John. She immediately loved his children Julie and David and David’s wife Mai. She was especially thrilled by little Maddie who blessed our family with her presence 2 ½ years ago. Velia and Maddie were fascinated with each other.
She lovingly welcomed my son Dave’s girlfriend Dawn into our family.
Velia considered friends extended family. Many of you felt that love.
Even in her last few years, as her dementia increased, our mother enjoyed being with family and friends, eating good food and, of course, talking. Towards the end, she even started singing.
I am comforted by and proud of the fact that I produced her two most wonderful and cherished gifts. Nothing lit up her eyes and made her as proud as her adored grandsons Dave and Angelo.
I want to honor and thank my sister, Sirenetta. Some of you have dealt with dementia and Alzheimer’s. It takes unbelievable devotion, love, strength and patience to confront that terrible affliction. Sirenetta was lovingly there for my mom 24/7. She is our hero!
Addio e grazie, Mamma. Stai tranquilla.
