Sometimes, remarkable people, leave this world in an unremarkable way. They quietly slip away from one world to the next, leaving the observer with a longing for something more. On April 13, 2017, in a drab, starkly lit room, I watched Rosa pass away. Anyone who knew Rosa, would agree that this setting and these circumstances are far from what she might have imagined for herself.
One thing that was so remarkable about Rosa, was her intuition. She was smart, and not always in a way that was comfortable for us. What people thought she didn’t understand, she understood completely. Countless conversations, over the years, were lessons in how to navigate beyond the bullshit. Likewise, she knew how to play dumb around people she felt were insincere and she gave her complete devotion to those who were. She was a master of timing, although we didn’t always think so. Her intuition was highly developed. Consequently, she knew she was dying and I am certain she chose these surroundings so there would be nothing between us in those final moments. It was our last intimate moment as mother and daughter. It was the day I lost my best friend.
Final Moments.
I slept on the floor, beside her bed, for three nights before she died. She had been declining rapidly that week. On the morning of her death, while waiting for my family to arrive, I noticed a change in her. Her expression was strained and she was clearly struggling. A cold sweat enveloped her which I learned was a metabolic response to the body breaking down. Watching intently, I gasped for air thinking that if held my breath long enough, I could somehow prolong those final moments. But, she was exhausted and ready to go. I whispered to her that I was there to help her leave, and within a few uncomfortable moments she was gone.
Those Eyes
Some might say Rosa lived a good, long life, but it wasn’t long enough for me. Likewise, I know it wasn’t long enough to for her. She had an inconsolable longing for something that wasn’t tangible and it presented itself in ways that weren’t always relatable. In the same vein, she confided in me, sharing some of what troubled her, yet there were pieces of the puzzle that were never fully revealed. As abrupt and difficult as she could be at times, there was a vulnerability about her that only showed itself to those she trusted most. To the rest of the world, she was the epitome of resilience. She was tough.
Childhood
She was born in Chicago in 1926. It was just before the start of the Great Depression and while it was a great hardship for many, the advantage of growing up in a large Italian family meant that there would never be a shortage of good food on the table. Italians could make a feast out of nothing.
As I child, I remember my mother picking weeds from our garden, saving purslane, stinging nettle, and dandelions for use in the kitchen. Together, we picked chamomile buds out of the cracks of the sidewalks and dried them in the oven for tea.
Demonstrating an interest in cooking at a young age, she had ample opportunity to hone those skills. With a large family at home, struggling to survive the limitations of the Depression, there was no shortage of hungry siblings.
Her parents were accomplished cooks, preparing traditional dishes for the family representative of their Southern Italian roots. While her siblings were interested in what was cooking, none of them shared Rosa’s interest in preparing a meal. This left Rosa with a responsibility to not only prepare meals for the family, but to carry the family food traditions to the next generation. She did that with great pride and expertise.
Rosa The Legend
Food is ceremonious in our family. From a simple meal to a family feast, there is an understanding that good homemade food is something to revere. Preparing a meal, from scratch, was something that not only taught us important sills, but taught us to respect the effort. Rosa’s meals were infused with the flavors of her life. They were bold and substantial. They weren’t rushed. She understood the process. Honoring tradition, she was energized by the idea of sharing something special with her guests. As a result, dining at her table was not only memorable, but a lesson in history and love. She could cook the hell out of anything. Her skills were endless and her food was legendary.
Beyond Food
Rosa was a storyteller. Her stories of childhood captivated us. When I close my eyes, I can hear her voice, spinning yarns with back stories that ran on for hours. She shared cigarettes with Harry Belafonte before he was famous, she shared the stage with Louis Prima, danced with Bill Robinson, worked with Polly Benedict on a Chicago radio show, and buried secrets for a gangster or two. Assisting her grandmother in her store, she prepared pepper and egg sandwiches for customers every Friday during Lent. Before having children, she and my father frequented jazz clubs and ballrooms, dancing until the wee hours of the morning. Their first date was on Oak Street Beach in Chicago. They married at City Hall on their lunch break from Charles A. Stevens, a department store where she was the elevator operator and my father worked in the women’s shoe department.
As a child, spending so much time cooking with my mother and grandmother, I was privy to many tales while making ravioli, or prepping for holidays. The stories may have started in English, but when the stories took on a more ominous tone, they ended in Italian. There were some details I never knew about her childhood until she passed away. She was very introspective. She fought some inner battles that left her wounded. There were times in her life she felt unprotected and possibly unwanted. As an adult, those feelings that were buried so deep within her became masked by a personality others viewed as gregarious and confident. However, like so many women of her generation, she accepted less from people than she deserved. Marrying and raising a family of her own, she buried pain beneath a tough exterior.
Rosa Making Memories
Growing up at a time when my peers saw their mothers pursue careers, Rosa stayed home. As a result, a typical day for us was to arrive home from school to the aroma of freshly baked Italian bread. My parents were very traditional. Rosa was a housewife and a mother and was not only satisfied with that role, she excelled at it. She was proud to tell people her children always had a home cooked meal on the table.
My parents supported us in our interests and encouraged us to pursue our dreams. There was no path set before us to follow. No expectations. Whatever path we chose, they would support. Rosa took great delight in our unconventional choices and took every opportunity to tell the world. Some might say she lived through us but it really was the other way around. We lived through her. Whatever success we achieved was because we had a strong foundation and the support of two parents who nurtured our interests. My father was the breadwinner and sat on the sidelines with pride while my mother screamed all of our accomplishments to the world.
Doing It All
Rosa was a seamstress. She made all my school clothes until I was old enough to learn to sew. She was a confidante to many. Always the voice of reason and a pillar of strength for those who needed a shoulder, she was a good friend. An avid gardener, she could grow anything and helped others in the neighborhood with their gardens.
Rosa dabbled in crafts and home improvements. She was creative. Enjoying crewel patterns, knitting, sewing, crocheting, macrame, batik, and embroidery, she never had a shortage of projects. She made curtains for our home, lamp shades, pillow covers, handbags, tablecloths, and much more. Her friends relied on her to oversee projects around their homes. She mowed the lawn, tended to the yard, and helped the neighbors. Managing all of this while my father traveled for business, she never complained about being left home. It was her choice as a wife and homemaker to keep it all together.
Rosa loved to write letters and did so in her finest penmanship. She was in a bowling league. She designed the team outfits. Naming the team The Alley Cats, she made pink house coats with the league names embroidered in black. She was involved in school activities and loved working the polls for the Board of Elections. While raising for children and dabbling in all these interest, she found time to cook and keep a meticulously clean home.
The Entertainers
Rosa was at her best when preparing a feast for company. Her greatest joy was sitting at a table, surrounded by the faces of her children and grandchildren. My father shared that joy. Together, they entertained artists, musicians, and friends from around the world. An invitation to dine at their kitchen table was like winning the golden ticket.
Rosa was not only my mother, but my best friend. That inconsolable longing that persisted through her life became clear to me after she died. While she lived her life sacrificing her own needs for others, while she buried her own dreams to make room for ours, she longed to be recognized. That sadness behind her eyes was fear. I believe she was afraid she didn’t do enough to warrant the love she so desperately needed. Like all of us, she had a deep need to be acknowledged and appreciated for her lifelong efforts. While we showed our appreciation in our own ways, I don’t think we adequately acknowledged how remarkable she truly was.
This website is a small gesture of appreciation to her. She is the force that continues to drive me to keep our family traditions alive and that includes not only honoring, but illuminating her recipes, her life, and all she did for us. I don’t spend a moment in the kitchen without thinking of her. Her legacy is strong. No words can describe my gratitude.
