Timing is Everything

Timing is Everythinghttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8RCALYSJrkE

I'll drink alone

My days in Corporate America were odd to say the least. I was not your typical VP.

I was da VP for da people and always had to battle the Ivy tower to try to explain how more motivated their employee's would be if they only would listen.

I was what they called a Change Agent - VP Sales Coach:behavior modification and skill set development.

So when Banks decided they needed sales people and not order takers I was the one that had to sell the kool aid then explain why is was so important to love it or the end result would be da dreaded lay off.

So all of my sessions and seminars were truly tailored to helping people find their passions in life. So people really would never be cut out to be a sales person.

I remember hiring this sales training company to assist me in training the masses and do mystery shops.

This company would invite all the Banks they were working with to this retreat so that we could all discuss our trails and tribulations.

I went to this financial getaway because I had to not because I wanted to. 

There I was in this county like setting at this beautiful bed & breakfast. I was the new member of this elite group so I got the room with the fireplace. Imagine dat~

In my room was the agenda~ cocktails at 6:30 - dinner at 7 and round table discussion to follow. Jeezzzzzzzzzz.

So there I was, two women and eight men. Let da round table begin..

I thought I was gonna stab myself in the eye with a fork. What a bunch of bragging stiffs. Who did this , who did that and of course asset size was the topic de jour.

Finally the evening was over. I was being walked back to my room by this EVP who was Italian and a competitor of ours.

He said you know you got the room with the fireplace because you are new to the group? 

I said yes I saw that when I checked in.

He then said how about you invite me in for a night cap?

Night cap my Ass and who used the line anyway- Fred McMurry?

I said I would love to but at the roundtable I found out that my asset size is bigger than yours? So, until you can increase that I think I'll drink alone.~~~

School Dayzzzz

Growing up in a 1st generation Italian family my Mom insisted that all her kids go to Catholic school.
I was the youngest of four with a huge age gap between me and one of my sisters.
They went to Our Lady of Fatima in Fort Lee, NJ. By the time I got there they changed the name to Madonna School – like a virgin.
I hated it!
I hated the uniforms, the masses but mostly I was afraid of the nuns until I was like in 5th grade. 5th grade was my transformation from being scared to being a rebel.
I hung out with the Brennen twins, two Irish girls in 7th grade. Apparently Maureen Brennen had these cherry bombs she got from her brother, we gathered at lunch to hatch da plan.
We all raised our hands at 2pm and asked to be excused to the lavatory. Once we were all there we took kotex (the ones that had dem long pieces of like gauze on them) we picked up the toilet seats and tucked the kotex around the seat so it was like a board over the hole then we placed the cherry bombs on them, lite them and ran like thieves.
We were back in the class before the explosion.
We all heard this huge BOOM.....
Then the loud speaker in the classroom starting its announcement. Sisters and teachers please file a single line and proceed outside. Also anyone that was absent from class send to the principals office.

Oh Boy – There were 5 boys and 3 girls in the office. Being it was the girls room the boys got interrogated and then dismissed. Upon our interrogation with Sister Peter Conesious – yes you read it right. Sister Peter what-eva determined it was us. She then called our Moms. We were suspended for a week and when we returned we had to clean the convent after school. My Mom was pissed! However she blamed da Irish kids for most of it.

In 6th grade I got Sister Mary Hue she was six feet tall and pissed all the time..
I had to brainy kids in my class and I will never forget their names: Renee Levisuer and Carolann Stalopie. Real Nun kissers!
Every Monday Carolann would collect milk money and mission money. Oh I wanted to smack her.
This one day were we working on math, fractions. I hated factions! I was so confused and kept telling the Sister that I did not understand it. So what does what does Sister 6 foot do – she calls me to the blackboard to solve the problem along with Renee and Carolann. The clacking of the chalk was maddening from them two.
All of a sudden they both put the chalk down at the same time and sat down.
There I was creating the formula for hydrogen! I had so many symbols and signs, I was sweating, my barrettes were sliding off my head.
All of a sudden I hear, “where were you when the Lord was giving out brains”!
I turn and say, “right behind you Sista!”
That was not good.... She walked up and started bangin my head in the board. I thought it was sweat but my barrette was stuck in my head and it was blood.! Yikes.
There I was back in da principal’s office!!
There was Mom at the door. Ma was pissed. She said regardless of what happens you are not to hit my child.
That day I was able to go home early. 

So here was the crown and glory that finally got me outta there.
Ever since the beating of the head, Sista was pissed at me. I was not allowed to play in any reindeer games.
It was Christmas time, we had a live tree in the class, it was all decorated and had candles, real ones on the tree.
She announced she wanted a class picture but I was not allowed to be in it rather I was gonna take the photo.
So she gave me this brownie camera, the kind you had to look down into.
She then lights the candles and places the kids on the floor and she next to the tree.
I kept walking back saying, back up more Sister, as she was HUGE- 6 feet- memba?
For a split second my eyes saw the candle and her veil. I was like – Nahhhhhh.
Then I said back a little more Sista and WHAM! Her veil went up like cotton candy!!
She ran out the door and dunked her head in the water fountain.

There I was waiting for da principal.
She came in and said- you are a descendant of Satan.
Yikes that was nasty!
Then Mom showed up, she was really pissed at me. So here was the sentence.
Mrs. Maisano we would prefer if you take your daughter to public school ASAP.

OMG – Yessssss- finally ~~~ finamente......

Happy Italian Heritage Month

He was born in Reggio, Calabria and came to America when he was a young man in his late teens.

When he arrived he was greeted by cousins and then was given a job in construction. Breaking concrete and only surrounding himself with those that knew his culture.

He then was introduced to my Mom, it was a brief relationship and at 16 years old she married him. My Mom raised all her siblings as her Mother passed young and kept house for her Father, who came here from Naples.

As soon as they were married my Dad was drafted in the army and was deployed back to Europe.

Once he returned, he continued in construction and then opened the first Taxi Company, Joe’s Taxi in Fort Lee, NJ.

Dad drove and Mom was home with us, taking the calls….

At a young age I knew we were different! Not the average American family for sure. All I know is that I was so intrigued with this culture, the language, the music and the food. Did I mention the food?

One by one, year after year my Dad sent for his family. They lived with us until they secured employment and then moved on. With each cousin came a new experience for me. I learned that they all had been promised when they were born. I never knew quite what that meant until my cousin Tina’s future husband arrived in America and she had never met him!

That was the only part of the culture I wanted no part of!  LOL

They all shared different stories of their homeland, the farms, the music and the food, ahhhh the food!!! It was like a visceral fairytale for me.

We received boxes from Italy filled with cheese, tuna, candy, oil and of course photos. I can still remember what that food tasted like, smelled like!

Then my Dad’s Mother finally came to visit. I was in awe!!

She was this small woman with braided hair around her entire head. Her clothes were in layers?

Each night I would sit with her and she would hold up a hairbrush and say,” Spazzola per capelli” – ah hairbrush and so it went. Any time she had something in her hand she would tell me in Italian and I locked it in.

Yes, we were different. We were passionate people. Loving people. People that talked of Italia like it were 5 miles away.

Proud people, people that valued tradition and family.

Not unlike many other family’s that have migrated to this country from other counties.

Hollywood made films about our Culture that at times may have only pointed out the stereotypical Gangster. However we cannot take this to heart, as indeed there was organized crime in all cultures. We need to know the difference between fact verses fiction.

Years ago in Italy being called a Guido was a badge of honor. It meant you cared abut your appearance and a style of living. Today, in America – that word describes a mother’s worse fear: OMG my daughter is marring a Guido! Some Mook with hard hair, all muscle bound a bad tan and thinks he can speak Italian.

Life has changes since my Dad came here but there are still houses in his village that have remained the same.

I created The Italian Chicks Comedy & Variety Show to further the culture. A show that makes us remember when life was simple. To hear things that you’re Nona used to say that you have not heard in years. A show that makes you remember things you paid your shrink to forget! J

I think my Pop would have loved the show!

I have always valued diversity.

When I hear people say, “ these people come here and take over the county”, does it anger me? You bet it does! Why? Because I am the child of an immigrant that came to here make a better life.

So Happy Italian Heritage Month!

Remember the food, the music, the tradition, the culture and the family!

And remember the struggle that our Mothers and Fathers encountered in a strange land looking to find their way.

Thanks for all the opportunities you gave us Dad and for telling us all those amazing stories about the farms, the goats, the fig trees and for making your way in this land with the worse broken English eva~

Hey, if Dad never came here I could have been living in Italy!!!!!

What!!!!!!!! Oh Man.. Dad !!!!!!!!

Rest is Peace Pop – we love & miss you..

Viva Italia