When he went anywhere, he always had people with him. It seemed he never liked being alone. If invited to someone’s home, he thought nothing of inviting strangers to the hosts to come along. Therefore, if one asked him to come, it was with the understanding that there might be more than his long-suffering wife and he. A hostess might find two, four, or even eight additional guests appearing at the door.
This brings us to what happened one Thanksgiving when he was invited to my aunt’s house. Like many Italian-American families during the postwar years and through the Eisenhower administration, our family was beset by anger and feuds.
Doad introduced my mother’s sister to her husband, a college graduate, unusual in that time. Doad was the brother of my father who had introduced my father to the matchmaker that brought my father and mother together.
At times, my mother cursed Doad, but she also fell under his spell when they were together. Through the years, there were many fights, feuds and agreements not to speak in my family.
But this year, 1953, it was agreed that everyone would come to Thanksgiving dinner. My mother’s brother, Canio, even agreed to pay for all the food. A notorious tightwad, his offer was seen as a way of everyone making peace.
Thanksgiving arrived with the festivities slated for 1 p.m. Everyone showed up on time but Doad. The food was delivered, and we lacked only Doad. As the food got cold, everyone sat around waiting. The wait extended to 2 p.m. then the third afternoon hour appeared but not my uncle. Come four o’clock, everyone started to get cranky but still no Doad.
With nothing more to do, family members began to open old wounds and several left without eating. Finally, my father started to call around looking for his brother. He was nowhere to be found. At five o’clock those that remained sat down to a cold dinner.
Two days later, we found out Doad had gone to another house for a brief visit and decided to stay. That Thanksgiving was 50-plus years ago and my family has never been together as a group since that day. Like Doad, most of the family members at that event are now gone. Gone, too, are those days and people like my Uncle Doad.
Excerpted from forthcoming Donald Mazzella’s forthcoming book; Frankie If You Get Hurt, I’ll Kill You. The book is a memoir of growing up Italian-American in the last century.
Donald P. Mazzella is COO Information Strategies, Inc., a company that helps business managers improve profits. He currently oversees a print and Internet publication network centered around Small Business Digest with more than 3.2 million opt-in small business readers and healthcare industry stakeholders.