sweet auburn | 2025 volume I
By Carol D’ Aloisio, Health Information Manager, Mount Auburn Hospital work at Mount Auburn Hospital in Cambridge as a manager in one of the nonclinical areas. I have
I worked there for over 30 years and have seen many changes along the way. However, the one thing that has remained consistent is my love for working in an organization where the main purpose is healing and nurturing.
I learned first-hand last summer, recovering from a difficult procedure, the importance of not just healing the body but also nurturing the mind and soul. The Hospital has a lovely outdoor Healing Garden which I visited during my days-long stay. Being able to spend time in a green and calming space, to feel the sun on my face, was such a lift to my spirit and a blessing in a time of need.
My time spent in the Healing Garden reminded me of another thing I love about working at the Hospital: it is less than a mile away from Mount Auburn Cemetery, a place I have come to treasure for its own special meaning to me.
I grew up in Watertown in a very large, close-knit Italian family. That meant spending tremendous amounts of time together enjoying homemade meals, helping each other when we could, and sharing the bounties from our gardens. I still go to Mom’ s every Sunday at 2 p. m. for family dinner. Everyone is always welcome. I remember Dad once telling me— in December of my first year away at college— that if any of my friends could not make it to their homes for the winter break, I was to invite them to stay with us. Everyone meant everyone.
Both of my parents are Italian. Dad was born in Watertown. Mom was born in a tiny little village in the mountains of Abruzzi, Italy. Mom’ s family migrated to the United States when she was 11 years old, and they settled in East Watertown. I spent quite a bit of time there when I was younger. Visits to my Nunnie’ s house on Cottage Street always consisted of time in her kitchen around a large table with my aunts and cousins drinking coffee or tea and eating her home-made pizzelles, which were often accompanied by fresh fruit or maybe some cheese and dry-cured meats from the Italian deli that was just up the street.
Visits to Nunnie’ s house also meant time spent in her garden. Sometimes we picked tomatoes or perhaps basil so we could make pesto. If my cousins were there, we would pick petals from the Roses, Marigolds, and Zinnias that were always so plentiful in Nunnie’ s colorful front yard. We would crush the petals to make a brown syrupy perfume that we never ever ended up wearing. But we loved making it anyway!
Photo by Carol D’ Aloisio
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