Disclaimer: Colosimo is a last name I borrowed from one of my friends at school with her permission.

Author’s Notes: This story is rather spontaneous and will probably suck, but hey it used to be my history project.

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Italian Dream

Chapter One: Eighty Year Over View

My name is Isabelle Colosimo I’m eighty-five and this is my life’s story. I grew up in Venice, Italy until I was fourteen years old, it was our homeland and it was hard to leave. It was the seven of us; we lived in a two floor restaurant-the restaurant on the first floor and the living quarters on the second. Papa, Mama, Anthony, Vito, the twins and I all called this home. Our restaurant was one of the best ones, located right on the canals. It was called Colosimo’s, it served mostly pasta, basically anything using tomato sauce, for my dad’s sauce recipe was to die for. It was that good and we were so proud of him. When Anthony-being the oldest- was ready dad would teach him the secrets of the trade, unfortunately that time would never come-at least not in Italy.

One day the restaurant was put under inspection by one of the government’s heath inspectors. Mama and I had complete faith that the restaurant would pass-like it did every year- but something changed. I saw Corlio had the inspector a large amount of money today. I thought well maybe the inspector had stopped at his restaurant earlier in the week and had just paid off his bill, after all Corlio’s restaurant didn’t have fair prices like fathers did. I was wrong, for when the inspection was over we had failed and were forced to shut down. There was no evidence to show that Papa’s restaurant had any cause for failure, but there was no proof that the inspector had been bribed so unwillingly we shut down our restaurant.

A few months later I found out that Anthony had gotten fired from his job down at one of the docks. Reason: another bribe from Corlio, I discovered. He was out to destroy our family. He and father had grudges reaching as far back as my great-great grandfather, so he would stop at nothing to see us destroyed.

With Papa in search of work along with Anthony, Vito and I were the only ones left who worked. Mama had to stay with six year old Cecelia and Ricardo, the twins. Mama didn’t like the idea of twelve year old Vito being our main source of income-since he was male he’d be paid more-but we had nothing left. I was working as a part-time housemaid for Mrs. Cicco across the canal, so I wasn’t paid much. Only when Mrs. Cicco found out that our family was falling into poverty, she let me go. It was her pride that got in the way. She wouldn’t have a beggar taking care of her child- we weren’t to that point yet but she still fired me. And guess how she found out about our financial problems, through Corlio’s wife. Things were just getting better and better for us. Actually they did. Unlike the rest of his family, Amilio, Corlio’s 16-year-old son, told us about America. He said that is was a place where we could start over, and that he would help us get there.

For the next few months, he gave us ten percent of his pay and stole my heart. I fell in love with a boy two years older than I, and the offspring of my dad’s rival. Okay so I wasn’t the luckiest, smartest girl in the world, but hey, who can choose whom they fall in love with right?

When our saving reached the expected quota, my mom began cooking. She cooked food for days and dried food and did anything. She said it would be along journey and that we could only bring one bag. The contents of my bag consisted of: A family photo, a photo of Amilio, my favorite doll, two changes of clothes-one with a dress and one with an old pair of Anthony’s pants- and another pair of shoes. I snuck some money I had been saving and stashed it into a hidden pocket I had sown in.

We decided to leave in the dead of night so that Corlio could not find away to sabotage us. I had to do it; I had to tell Amilio how I felt about him. And I did.

I told him as Papa was loading the boat. I said, “Amilio, I have a secret…I like you a lot.” I stood there as still as I could, glaring at the ground. When he replied my heart stopped.

“I like you too…”

It was a dream come true, we hugged and he told me he would come to America and find me. And before I knew it we were already rowing down the canal, Frank already out of sight.

We sailed to Ancona and sold the boat in exchange for a cart and buggy, and headed towards Piombino. There, Papa convinced a fisherman to take us to the Island of Sardinia, free of charge. We stopped for a few days on the Island, looking for a place to get tickets to America and to celebrate my fifteenth birthday. It turns out that Amilio had given father a present for me. It was a beautiful necklace with the Italian flag dangling from a gold chain. Inscribed on the back, in Italian, read ‘To My Isabelle, With Love, Amilio.’ Again my heart yearned for him, and I wore the necklace every day from then on.

Finally we found a boat that went to America. It was a small freighter that usually took things like Olive oil, but today its cargo consisted of Italian Immigrants, mixed with a bit of French and some Tunisians.

Not even a month into the trip passengers began getting seasick. Since we lived in Venice it didn’t affect us as much, but some died because they could not keep food in them. Mama helped out as much as she could, making soup- saving our food and using theirs- but she had to stop when Cecilia’s stomach stated to act up.

Anthony and Papa built a makeshift tent below deck where we could sleep and where Cecilia could rest. She had gotten a fever and had a hard time keeping her food down. Sometimes mom would start crying for no apparent reason, even though we all knew that it was because of Cecilia’s sickness.

I had lost track of the days, but Papa had not and when Anthony’s birthday rolled around we celebrated with a bit of mom’s dried fish and sweet bread. Anthony turned nineteen, next year he would be a man. But Anthony had no interest in presents or even a party. He had fallen head over heels in love with a beautiful French girl. She had sandy blonde hair and sapphire blue eyes. The thing that caught us of guard the most was that she could speak both French and Italian-French better of course-but we could understand her and she could understand us, most times. We discovered that during world war one her father had come from Sweden to France fell in love and stayed. Later he had died and her mother became ill and soon followed leaving her, her older brother-who was twenty one- and their little sister –who was a year younger then twins.

Anthony became close to her and when we found out that they had run short of food we offered to share. Mother hoping Magalie would become her daughter in law, was more then willing to share. I was secretly wishing she would become my new older sister. I was surrounded by boys, with only Cecilia to comfort me, but she had taken ill so I enjoyed another young girl. Magalie’s older brother, Michael, wasn’t too fond of Anthony. He had taken the place of ‘father’ in there family and acted accordingly. Unfortunately Anthony didn’t acknowledge the position and treated him as an equal. So when Michael approached Anthony, let’s just say things got messy and Michael ended up with a bloody nose and Anthony, a black eye. But from then on Michael seemed to have a great respect for Anthony. I still can’t figure out why that fight ended in them becoming friends and I’m already a great Grandma. It must be a boy thing.

The next week Cecilia’s condition slowly worsened and was attended to day and night. When it was my turn to watch her I fell asleep, and the next thing I new someone was shaking me. I opened my eyes to find mom crying and shaking Cecilia. Apparently she had drowned in her own vomit while I was sleeping. I felt terrible, if I had only stayed awake and helped her up then she would still be alive. I exiled myself to a different part of the boat for the next month.

The trip seemed to last forever and yet it seemed so short. So many things had happened and when the Statue of Lady Liberty finally came into view you could practically feel the sigh of relief the passengers on the ship let out. Most thanked god they had made it while others hugged their family so close and so tight that you could mistake them for one person. Our family was one of those. I almost suffocated! Mama and Magalie cried tears of joy while the boys excluding Ricky-he was too young to understand- clapped each other’s shoulders and gave proud smiles. And when we docked it was like a rush of cattle to the fields. We were on Ellis Island.

The American Police men herded us along with thousands of other Immigrants through the doors of a large building. Even though we were tired we knew that we had to prove our worth to these people. A few police men came by and asking us in different languages where we were from, until we found a man who could speak Italian. We pretended Magalie’s family was part of ours so that we wouldn’t be separated. And in a way they had become a part of our family. Ricky became friends with Magalie’s sister Marie, I guess because he missed Cecilia’s company so much.

When we reached a certain line however, a man checked our eyes and such with a light and marked Ricky and Magalie with blue chalk. This confused and frightened Mama and enraged Anthony. Anthony grabbed the doctor by his shirt and asked-more yelled actually- why they had been marked different. It took the policeman, Papa, and Michael to pull Anthony off. And after a while of explaining why Anthony had such a short temper the Policeman explained that they could be sick and needed to be examined. Mama paled a bit, but nodded and waved, as they were lead to a different line. Magalie called over to us that she would watch Ricky and that they shouldn’t worry.

After our passports were approved and exchanged our saved money along with Amilio’s we headed for the information booth. Everyone wanted to know what happened to Magalie and Ricky. And after standing in another long line we were told that they had been diagnosed with measles and were to be quarantined for eight weeks, and that we could pick them up then.

After that mess was cleared up we proceeded to a ticket seller. When he asked us where we were headed, we couldn’t understand him. He became irritated with us and called over an available translator. The translator conveyed the message to us and we all replied at once that New York City was were we wanted to go. The Seller gave us a strange look and gave us our tickets.

When we arrived in the city is was everything Amilio had said it would be. The streets were bustling with people and cars. And the air was full of all different types of smells and sounds, good or bad. It was so exciting to finally be in America, the land of opportunity. Father told us to wait at the train station while he looked for a hotel or a place to bunk for the night. While wee waited mom got out her needles and began knitting a scarf for Ricky. She was still in shock over Cecilia and had yet to realize that Ricky had left as well, only his leave was only temporary. Anthony and Michael stuck up a conversation on what they should do when Magalie returns and I sat on the steps of the station entertaining Marie. We were there for quite some time before Papa returned. He said that all the hotels were full or could not understand his accent, so he was refused. But he said that just when he was about to give up all hope someone tapped on his shoulder and spoke to him in Italian. The man told Papa that there were to rooms available in an apartment building near the outskirts of the city that had relatively cheap renting costs. Everyone was happy and thought finally a break. That’s when things got interesting.

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A/N: Okay so the grammar was crappie, but I promise to rewrite this old lady’s journal and give you full Italian Details!