Here are some fragments from a story of Aunt Addie's:

THE PORTO FAMILY
by Aunt Addie

The Father

The big steamer glided majestically into the slip, guided by the ridiculously small tugboats. The Statue Of Liberty rose out of the harbor, torch held high, welcoming the voyagers. The ship blasted out a greeting, her decks crowded with tired but wildly hopeful Italian immigrants.

It had been a long and uncomfortable passage in steerage, sea-sickness and homesickness crowding out the thought of a new, better life in America, but now they waved enthusiastically to the group on the pier, each pair of eyes searching out friends or relatives who would be waiting there. Suddenly Dominic shouted and began to hop up and down excitedly.

"There they are! Look Pope, there near that big cart! There they are!"

Giuseppe, the older of the two brothers followed the pointing finger with his eyes. A lump rose in his throat as he spotted his old boyhood chum who was waving an American flag. Frank had told Giuseppe in a letter to look for that sign.

Giuseppe, with his five brothers and three sisters, grew up in the mountains of Italy, a hard, poor existence on a small farm, which barely eked out a living for the big family. At one period in time his father had come to America to work on the expanding railroads, to make life a little better for his family back in Italy. He sent them money from his pay each month, but after several years he went back, needing the comfort of his family whom he missed greatly during those long, lonely years.

He returned with many tales of the beauty and bigness of America. No, there was no gold in the streets, but a man who was willing to work could make a good living there. His sons listened to him and the desire for America grew daily in their hearts. Then one day Giuseppe spoke to his father.

"I am a grown man. I have no liking for farming and I want to go to America. I can earn a good living and send back help to all you here."

Giuseppe's father looked searchingly into the eyes of his oldest son.

"Are you sure? You know it can get very lonely there."
"But I can go to stay with Frank. He has been there for two years now. He is married and they have an extra room, they said. And Papa, I can take Dominic with me. You know how he sticks to me. I would feel like I have the family with me. I really want to go. And you have the others to help you with the farm."

His father smiled. "I know what it is to be a young man - full of hopes and dreams. Yes, you may go, but I don't really know how you are going to tell your mother!" His eyes twinkled at the thought of his wife - sharp of tongue but fiercely loving and protective of her children.

"Well," Pope said, you tell her first, and then I will."

There had been many tears and commands to be careful, write often.

"Don't take up with those wild American girls," his mother admonished. "You come back and marry a good Italian girl, hear? Don't forget to go to church and confess and take Communion. Take care of yourself!" His mother held him close and spoke gruffly to mask the tears which she could not control. To Dominic she said, "Mind your brother and write to us every week." She gave him a fierce hug and turned away. "Addio, addio-goodbye! Go! Go and God be with you."

Their father looked long at them, hugged them and shook their hands. "Have a good voyage, and God be with you." He knew what they were facing - the long arduous trip, the seasickness and the homesickness. He was glad the two brothers were together. It would help a lot.

The year was 1906. The Bronx was a wonder to two mountaineers from Italy.



The Mother

"Who is that man, Mary?" Nettie spoke to her cousin and dearest friend.
"Which one?" Mary said.
"That one. The one with the awful scowl. He's waving is arms and almost having a fit! I sure pity the girl who gets him!" She laughed.
"Well," Mary said, "that's the groom's brother. He is taking his job as best man very seriously. Evidently something is not going as well as he thinks it should." Mary slipped her arm through her cousin's. "Come on with me - let me introduce you to him. He is really a very good man. He doesn't always scowl." She laughed as she tugged at her unwilling cousin. "Really, he is very nice when he is not angry." At this Antoinetta laughed and said, "Well, alright. I did come to this wedding hoping to dance and have a fine time, so I do have to start somewhere. On to the scowling man!"

As the two girls approached Pope, he looked away from the man he had been talking to and his eyes fell on Antoinetta. He thought he knew all the relatives, after all, he had been in America six years now. But he had never met any this pretty! A direct man in everything, his quick mind said - this one I am going to marry!

He heard his cousin introduce her - "She's from Pennsylvania and she is here visiting me."

"I am honored," said Pope. And not one to waste time he said, "May I have this dance?"

Antoinetta's eyes flicked over to her cousin and Mary said, "Please do, Antoinetta. I have to find my husband or he will think I have deserted him!" She walked off Pope and Antoinetta swirled off to the waltz being played.



First Generation

It was a small town - suburb to the great New York City. Whe we were brought there to live, there were even a couple of farms still operating. We lived on the main street which was called Cherry Lane, then changed to Junction Boulevard as the town grew in population and the street grew in commerce. The trolleys clanged up and down from the area now known as LaGuardia Airport, but in those years was known as North Beach, to the other end. We kids made friends soon after moving to the town, and it soon became apparent that many nationalities were represented there. There were Italians, Irish, Germans, Polish, Greek and there were several Jewish families. However, there were no Blacks - Negroes as they were called then. I remember one class in high school which was attended by a black fellow whom we all wanted to know, but he was not having any. We did not know where he came from or where he went home too. He kept to himself. Now I think how hard it must have been for him. And we were almost awed by him! Yes, we were many nationalities, but were AMERICAN!! Most of us had both parents who had come from Europe. Our own mother was born in the U.S. but was an Italian immigrant who made a go of it in this big new country, received his citizenship, and worked hard to make a good life for all of us, his family.

In those days the flag was respected. We were all 'flag wavers'. To be American was to love America. Woe to the person who criticized our beloved country. In high school there was a card-carrying Communist girl who was avoided by the rest of us. She was finally expelled from school because of her activities. Communists were not tolerated then - it was "our country-right or wrong". So as time went on, and our country was drawn into the Second World War, there was no question that the young men would join the armed forces. No they did not WANT to go -- they hated to go, leave all their love ones, their lives interrupted and placed in grave danger. There was no singing going off to war as in the First World War - none felt it was a lark. But the young men knew it was what they had to do. A 'draft-dodger' was despised. If he was a sincere 'conscientious objector' - because his religion forbade him to join the effort, he gave his service in some non-combat area, and was respected by the rest of us. But a draft-dodger was a coward, and not to be tolerated. The young men who went off to war were in many cases not even trained sufficiently, but history shows how our American young men were equal to the task put before them.

Much fun is made of that era's morals and patriotism. The nostalgia rampant today for the 30s and 40s makes no mention of the heartache of proud people having to resort to 'the Dole' - 'Going on Relief' it was called. No one wanted to go on Relief and got off it as soon as possible. And the heartache of seeing a loved one leaving for a training camp, to be sent far across the ocean, not to be seen again for perhaps four years, or never again. In the joking of 'The Big One' we tend to forget that back then they were very young, those gray-headed, fiftiesh men who sometimes keep the memory of the war alive - almost as though they must or it would all seem like it had been such a waste. No, they didn't want to go, but they did. Brave, scared and all-American- and they left behind their girls, and their families who prayed, cried andkept writing. First generation Americans.

Does anyone suppose that today's spoiled young people, with their lack of patriotism, the permissiveness, with it's attendant lack of discipline, would be able to accomplish for the country what the valiant young men of that day did? Let's hope they will never be put to the test for the sake of America. That generation of the Second World War still gets on it's feet for the Star Spangled Banner and still gets a lump in it's throat at the sight of the flag, and salutes it with respect and affection. This generation laughs at patriotism, the flat, the country and the word "respect" is not part of their vocabulary. Well, we had our Country - they will have their own world - whatever that is.