Snapshots From the Past
By Brianna Carter
When I set out to write this article , I thought my community outreach would yield scores of ideas and loads of sentimental stories about sharing fun and timeless traditions learned from generations prior . Alas , I was proved wrong . My efforts proved fruitless . How can a writer write without a source , inspiration or other people ’ s insight ?
Sometimes , you must look within .
Traditions — family pastimes — are a funny thing . Often , we don ’ t even know they are happening , as they are just a part of us , occurrences that have continuously existed . It ’ s not until we look back that we see the great imprint these seemingly small moments had on our lives . For the Modugno side of my family , there has always been an unwavering presence of food and music .
Rock out .
My great-grandfather was a musician in the iconic Mummers Day Parade . Every visit to their South Philadelphia row home , he asked my sister , “ Did you bring your fiddle ?” He ’ d grab his banjo and start plucking away . Then , Sammie , a dear family friend , would tune his saxophone and whistle along with the enchanting melody , usually an Italian ballad of sorts . ( Fun fact : A distant cousin Domenico Modugno , is the voice behind “ Volare ,” which means “ to fly ” in Italian ).
Finally , my grandfather , my Poppi , would jump in , finessing the accordion . The band was in full swing . We would clap and dance along . Sometimes , there ’ d be a sweet solo sung , but often it was an extemporaneous jam session .
This happened at my Poppi and Grammie ’ s house , too . Only there , the pianos would start the groove — that ’ s when my Uncle RJ would take the helm — and my Poppi would keep the rhythm on the drums . Oldies , rock or a nod to our Italian heritage were the favorites . Sometimes , Pop would enlighten us with a titillating jazz riff when no one else wanted to play along .
We grew up immersed in the tones and nuances of instruments . My sister ’ s repertoire grew to include piano , mellophone and French horn . I remember the Christmas my brother got a drum kit . To this very day , he plays in bands . I was always the singer , the entertainer , who knew enough piano to play some basic melodies .
For my sister and me , our kids have taken notes . These days , it ’ s my husband who is gliding his hands on the piano as I sing . My son dances to the tune or dives into the songs he knows , like “ Memory ” from Cats .
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