Even though I've been doing grocery shopping for the last 12 years, it's been only in the last year that I've noticed the choices we have when it comes to selecting a product. It seems like new products come on to the market almost every week and that future supermakets will have to be placed in airplane hangars to carry all of them and that we'll probably be shopping with golf carts since the walk will be too much for most people.
I started to wonder how it must have been like when my mother went shopping back in the 50's and 60's in the North End of Boston. I don't recall any major supermarket chain other than the Kennedy Butter and Egg store on Blackstone Street. I remember that my mom had to visit different stores to do her shopping and sometimes she would even buy things from the various vendors on the street. For fish, she stopped at Giuffre's. For meat, she went to DelBene's meat market then she would stop at Purity Cheese to get fresh ricotta and mozzarella. Then she would go to Martignetti's on Salem Street to buy cold cuts and cheese, various types of pastas, rice and imported can goods such as Pastene tomatoes and tomato paste. Then she would go to Parziale's bakery to get fresh bread and occasionally would bring home some slices of pizza from the bakery. Fruits and vegetables would be purchased from the various stores on Cross or Salem Sts.
Polcari's at the corner of Salem and Parmenter St. was the place where you would find all types of imported coffee beans, spices, seeds and essences. Back in the 60's my mom would make her own liquors as long as she could find someone that could get her the alcohol. With the alcohol and the essences from Polcari's, she make Anisette and a yellow liquor called Strega (means witch). What she couldn't make, she would purchase at Cirace's or Martignetti.
If you were in the mood for an exotic dish, such as escargot, you went to a lady that sold periwinkles on a pushcart next to Bova's bakery. If you were in the mood for fried zucchini flowers you would go to a lady that would have a stand in the middle of Salem St. The one and most important thing that stands out in my mind is THAT EVERYTHING WAS FRESH and it tasted good. And the other thing is that all the store owners new their customers by their first names and took good care of them.
Shopping back then was an adventure and a beneficial social experience. You didn't have to buy a newspaper to know what was going on because you would get all kinds of news by traveling to all these different stores. You also got all your exercise for the day from all the walking, not to mention the stair climbing you did especially if you lived on one of the fourth floor apartments as we did on Endicott St. The only people that went to a gym in those days were boxers or trainers. The North End was abuzz with people out and about. Today, that beautiful and happy familiar noise I grew up with is not there.
Today we can't live without cell phones, back then people communicated by yelling out windows, "Hey, Anthony, come home it's time to eat." And out of the 100 Anthony's in the neighborhood the right Anthony would always respond, because of voice recognition. There were telephones but few people needed them, women would talk to each other from their windows across courtyards as they placed their laundry out on the clothes line. A typical conversation would go something like this; "Mari, how's your daughter Filomena doing?" Maria would answer, "Madonna mia, she had a terrible morning, you know she's four months pregnant." Anna at the other window would say, "Mari, don't worry, she's got morning sickness, make her some camomilla and she'll feel better." Camomilla (chamomile tea) was a cure all for many things and now it's gotten a lofty stature as a herbal tea. Another remedy or cureall would be to put two laurel leafs in boiling water and drink it. This would take care of many stomach ailments. The old timers were smart - they knew how to use different herbs to treat their maladies.
It was wonderful everyone was so open with each other, that's why they never had the need to see a psychiatrist (I don't even know if they existed back then). They would talk their problems out amongst themselves and would help each other overcome them. With all the children born back then, I never heard of a woman suffering from post-partum depression. They would never get to that point because there was always some form of support if not from your family certainly from your neighbors. There was always someone willing to take your child or help you with some chores or bring you some escarole soup. People helping people. They didn't have much in the way of money, but their lives were rich with the abundance of love from all around. They knew how to have a good time with very little. They might have not had the finer things in life but they always made sure that they had enough to eat. They had the theory that if you had enough to eat you were healthy and if you were healthy you could find work and make money to buy food to put on the table.
Which reminds me of a story told by one of my favorite authors, Leo Buscaglia. He was telling about how his mother and father were open with their children, never hiding anything from them. So the kids would see their good sides and their bad sides. They were not symbols of perfection he says, but symbols of humanness.
I remember my father sitting down and telling us that his partner had absconded with all their money and he didn't even know where our next meal was coming from.
Mama had the craziest habit - she loved to laugh. And that just struck her so funny. He was furious with her! She was laughing, tears were coming down her cheeks. You know what she did? We all went off and came home that evening and she had prepared a banquet such as we would have for a baptism, or a wedding; antipasto, pasta, veal, everything!
My father said, "My God, what's this."
She said, "I spent everything on this."
He said, "You are crazy!"
She said, "The time we need joy is now, not later. This is the time we need to be happy. Shut up and eat!"
Isn't that interesting?
We sat down. That was years ago - and I tell you I will never forget that dinner, Mama's Misery Dinner. And you know, we survived! Isn't that crazy? We survived. Look! I'm here! Papa lived to be 86.
The story is taken from the book, Living, Loving & Learning by Leo Buscaglia who passed away a few years ago.
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