This podcast and stories have their origins in northern Italy— my parents’ birthplace.

WWII had devastated the region of Friuli Venezia Giulia and, as children of poor grain farmers, their prospects at the time were grim. Tens of thousands of other young Italians had already crossed the Atlantic Ocean to Canada; my parents followed with nothing more than a small cardboard suitcase packed with big dreams of a brighter future.

Ending up in southern British Columbia, the dusty coal-mining town of Michel Natal would be their new home. Here, my older sister, Rosanna, and I were born.

Dad worked three jobs as coal miner, a bartender and a grave digger; our mom, meanwhile, focussed on us and keeping the house clean—free from the coal dust constantly penetrating the walls and furniture.

Despite the hard work both Mom and Dad were grateful to their adopted country for giving them the opportunity to make a living, own a home, and raise a family.

But Italy was always on their minds and in their hearts. We heard lots of stories about their life and family left behind told in a nostalgic tone for the old country.

I was five years old when we went as a family our very first trip back to Friuli.  By then our other two sisters, Angela and Lora had been born.

That trip sealed our own love for Italy, our relatives, the culture, and language. And Dennis our youngest brother was conceived in the very house my mom was born!

Back in Canada, we grew up in a very Italian-inspired household: a second stove in the basement for making polenta; a large vegetable garden that filled the minestrone pot, and home-made wine from grapes imported from California.

The Friulan dialect was spoken at home because it was my parents’ mother tongue. But they wanted to ensure we spoke and read the standard literary language too, so we attended the local Italian school on Friday evenings. When other friends were going to the movies, we were seated in front of a black board conjugating verbs out loud. 

As teenagers and then young adults we applied for scholarships and worked two summer jobs each, just to be able to go back and spend time with our relatives and continue learning the language and soaking up the culture.

Many years later, now as a married adult, my husband Graham and I explored the possibility of owning a pied-a-terre there. 

Today, we consider ourselves very fortunate to own our apartment in Tuscany.  Not only is it an opportunity to honour my parents, but it is by knitting myself into their past that my life is full of meaning.