I Am A Linguist - The Italian Language

When Jay and I retired in 2000 a big item on my "bucket list" was to learn another language. I had taken three years of French in high school and I was lucky to know some French words to use in crossword puzzles. My language of choice was Italian.  When we decided to travel to Italy, and specifically to Sicily, to meet some distant cousins I had "unearthed" while venturing into genealogy I had the real incentive to take this desire seriously.  We began by taking some Adult Education classes at local colleges. Our first class was at Santa Monica College with Romualdo Scherillo.

Romualdo Scherillo

Professore Scherillo was a Neapolitan who emigrated to Los Angeles many years ago but he sounded as if he had just stepped off the boat. Like a stand-up comic, he entertained us with gesture and humor as he taught us not only the language but the "Italian way," the culture we would encounter when we visited his homeland.  As I sat in the class, I realized that all of this sounded so familiar to me and had a sense of homecoming.

Growing up in Ohio, having regular contact with immigrant grandparents and great-grandparents, I was cocooned in "the Italian way."  Every holiday was spent with a houseful of relatives and I grew up with cousins who were as close as siblings.

Easter in Lorain, OH with cousins ~ 1953

I never realized it was any different from what other kids were experiencing.  And...I never realized that words we used for everyday things were not the words that other Americani children used in their homes.  Deep in my cells, I had the beginnings of this foreign language and I didn't even know it.


I thought everyone approached their great-grandparents as I did.  Quietly and respectfully walking to them, silently practicing the words "Si benedica" in my head and then saying them and hearing the reply, "Dio ti benedici."  I didn't know I was conducting an ancient custom, asking God's blessing on them and they, placing their hands on my head replying, "God bless you."

Great-Grandparents John & Frances Rosso at Grandfather's, Fred Montalto, birthday

I learned to count in Italian by listening to my father and uncles gathered in the backyard after a holiday meal, playing Morra...a game where they throw out fingers and shout out the number of the total they think will result.

Mealtimes were important with everyone around the table.  I thought every father asked his children to pass the bread by saying "dammi il pane!"  When my mother would serve something for dinner that did not look appealing to me, I would never say anything because we were to eat what was put before us. If my face registered some distaste for the food on the plate, my mother would scold me and say be grateful, and then say something like...don't you "schifare" meaning to act disgusted by it.

With cousins in Kent, OH - 1953 - Mom at stove, pasta pot in background!

I thought everyone took a piece of bread and 'zuppare....soaked up the sauce left on the plate.  And I thought everyone announced to the world... "He made a porco!"...when a younger brother passed gas!  And if I was impatient wanting my parents' attention right now, I was told..."aspetta!" ...wait. One of my first nicknames was bestowed on me by my Grandma Montalto who called me "chiacchierona" (chatterbox) because I was always talking. If I was talking too much or arguing, I was told..."sta zit" (an Italian shut-up!)

Only now, as an adult learning the equivalent of the "Queen's English," as I study formal Italian...do I see how my life was always peppered with the language.  Yes, some was dialect, and some was like pidgin...an Italian-American slang and some was traditional.  Now my soul seems to yearn for the comfort and joy that fills me when I hear it spoken in foreign films or Italian music. There is often a depth of meaning that cannot be translated.  Telling Gabriel "Sogni d'oro" (Golden dreams) when he goes to bed says more than "sweet dreams." Just saying the words..."ti voglio bene" (the equivalent of "I love you" really meaning "I want for you EVERYTHING good.") makes my eyes tear.

I am not fluent in the language.  I do best when I read it.  Second best when I write it. But I am rather hopeless when I listening to it being spoken. My ears just can't keep up. But I continue to work at it. I get most of my practice through email with cousins in Sicily and I look forward to receiving their messages.

One of my favorite websites for learning Italian is Becoming Italian Word by Word. Dianne Hales, author of La Bella Lingua, shares little lessons about the Italian Way of Life complete with colloquial phrases.  At her website she has a pdf with 10 Reasons to Fall In Love with Italian.  I love it!

To all my friends...to my family...I say from the bottom of my heart..."Ti voglio bene."