I’m sure I’ve mentioned this already but I was born in Canada, however my parents were born in Italy, in a small town up on the mountain side called Dragoni, in the region of Calabria. I often dream of visiting and being in this small village—talking to relatives—the sights and sounds as vivid as being there in person. I visited the area for the first time with my family when I was 4 years old. I’ve returned a number of times, once in my teens, twice in my twenties, and recently in my thirties with my own family, and on one occasion on my own. I often wonder why I dream of being there so often when I’ve visited only a hand full of times. What is it that connects me so strongly to a place my subconscious apparently seems to long for? This push and pull of yearning and belonging to a far away land, for some first generation Canadians, must be a common occurrence. I think we are a unique subculture that those before, and many after us—such as our children—will not quite understand.
I, for example, speak and write fluently in Italian. My children do not speak Italian, and understand only some words (mostly related to food, meals, and eating!). I alone can take full blame for this because it was just easier to speak English in the house since it is my first language and I was home with both my children during their formative years. However, I’ve always tried to introduce them to the Italian culture, as I know it and love it from my perspective. Like in many cultures, food and music are universal ways to make such connections. I also talk about my family tree and how the people they meet are related to them. I try to make reference to my childhood memories as they relate to my culture, as well as talk about memories my parents had of their upbringing in Italy. However, I can’t help but feel a sense of sadness that my future grandchildren and great-grandchildren may not have as strong of a tie to the Italian culture as I do. I hope they will however have a strong connection, and a sense of pride, that comes with being Canadian.
I don’t think I am unique in my sense of belonging to ancient ancestral connections, or in my sense of sadness for the generations after me. I am aware that my children’s experiences with the Italian culture will no doubt differ than my own. Their dreams will be filled with other longings, maybe their childhood home or places they visited with me. As my subconscious longs to visit a distant place across the sea, I can only hope for them that their longings are short lived and they are able to gratify their desires to be in different places. For now travel is out of the question for many reasons. My aging relatives pull at my heart strings asking for my speedy return. This winter my eldest maternal aunt passed away in Italy. As time slips past me, I hope to soon answer the call from across the sea—for now only in my dreams…
Thoughts At F___ It Forties 