A VALENTINE TO REMEMBER

A VALENTINE TO REMEMBER

Buon giorno and Good Day!

Growing up in a typical Italian family, I can honestly say that family, food, friends, or even strangers and food all went together on an ongoing basis. If it was a birthday, anniversary, wedding or funeral, there were tons of people and always Pasta, Bread and Spiedinis. The same was said of holidays, such as Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Whenever there was a reason to celebrate, their was romance and a reason to eat Italian food. It was a way of life, and no one was ever lonely.

But living in America brought other holidays that typically Italians didn't at first embrace; one of them was Valentine's Day. My dad would say "Why do they have to make a day to tell me I love my wife?" "I love her every day," as he would pound his chest to make his point. "Italy is 'amore' (love) all the time and nobody can tell us Italians how to romance." I'm sure he was right, but even then mom would buy me a box of valentines to bring to school for all my friends, and I would always save two to give to her and dad. This would definitely put a smile on my dad's face.

After a few years, dad got into the groove and once he made my mom her very own ravioli board. He wasn't much on cards, but I always picked one up for him, and mom never knew; she just always saved them in her special "box." So the Valentine bug was here to stay.

Back in my mom and dad's childhood, it was expected that they would grow up and marry within there culture, so as to preserve their nationality. But myself, the Italian/American generation, would many times grow up in a non-Italian community and go to "American" schools, where we would meet, date, and eventually marry a non-Italian. Thus was the case with me.

I was only 16 when my father moved my family from Jennings, MO to a growing town in St. Charles, MO. His intent was to buy up some duplexes and make some money. While mom and I cried, leaving all of our friends, dad assured we would like the new adventure.

There was a young man at the St. Charles High School who spotted me and asked my out to the football dance, which happened to be around Valentines Day. Being lonely from my friends, I said yes, if it was okay with my parents. He was quite the gentleman, and brought a flower bouquet, plus candy and gifts. I had a good time, but absolutely no intention of an ongoing courting.

While I would tell him "no" many times, I couldn't resist the showered attention. "Bill" would walk me home from school every day as he carried my books. With no help from my mother, she would bid him stop in for a bite of her hot bread; he then would walk the three miles back to his house. Every morning as I opened my locker, there would be a small bundle of wild flowers tied with a rubber band that he would pick on his way to school, and of course with an accompanying Sweet-note. This went on for a year, with still no intention of marriage on my part.

Then came another Valentine's Day. I still have the card; it is a 2-foot by 3-foot extravaganza with a giant puppy dog on the front. It opens to the puppy saying "I'm the helpless puppy, and you are my love." This he propped up by my locker for all to see. It was very embarrassing!

After many years of marriage and the romance never letting up, my husband, Bill, decided to display his love for me to the public. Last year he made a 4-foot by 6-foot sign that was bordered by white Christmas lights and red silk flowers. The sign read "I love you Rosalie." Happy Valentine's Day!… from Bill. Again I was embarrassed. A Valentine to remember? How can I count them, I am truly blessed, and all from my German husband, Bill.

Click on my blog for the recipe, *Turtle Dove Cheese Cake* and check out a cooking class at Diebergs School of Cooking, near you. Also, see my many booking signings just a few days from now.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Love, Rosalie