Ancient Calabrians have customs dating back to the Stone Age. Being of the old schools customs were handed down by family and word of mouth; most couldn't write their names

Customs were clearly remembered, not distracted or minced by media or soothsayers and believed by most still until these days, Gods of the ancients at one time were many, with the influence of Christianity and Judaism, which was a powerful influence to the Calabrese and Sicilians during the Spanish inquisition. The Jews fled to southern Italy by the thousands. A lot of the curses or evil eyes etc. is traced to the Hebrew or multi-god civilizations and became easy to remember and hard to forget by people with dirt and a shovel as their lot. These memories are shared from family memories and stories handed down from our parents. My parents, Nicola Frega, born; Oriolo Calabria in 1889 and Carmela Barone, born; San Fratelo, Sicily in 1894.

Author Jim Frega-Wife Gayle and their pets.

My mother immigrated to Oriolo after the big Messina earthquake in about 1900. Both parents immigrated to the United States in 1910 separately and didn't marry until about 1918. After coming to America, my father went to McKee's Rock. PA, then to Cleveland, Ohio and eventually to Youngstown, OH, where they both met and eventually married in Cleveland OH. From Cleveland they moved on to Logansport, Indiana and started a business called, Yankee ShoeShine and Smoke Shop.

My mother bore eight children, five boys and three girls along with a couple miscarriages. Four boys were named James and one was named Peter. The girls were named Rosalie, Mary and Lucia. The first James was born in 1919 in between an influenza epidemic and a 1921 diphtheria epidemic that took his life. Jimmy was the apple of my parents eyes, a handsome boy with a beautiful smile from pictures I've seen.

It so happened that all of the children in town relied on County treatments for the diphtheria, my parents obtained the services of a very reputable doctor in Indiana, as luck had it, good didn't mean better. In those days, most remains of the deceased were brought home, and the wake was held at home prior to burial. My distraught father wanted nothing to do with Jimmy's funeral, but my mother ignored his wishes. The consequences were that my father upon seeing the casket in the living room went berserk and threw the casket outdoors into a snow bank, After the loss of the first son, business began to fail, my father got caught bootlegging. Forewarned, they fled Indiana with my sister Mary and headed back to Cleveland, OH in their Model T. In Cleveland my father established a hat blocking and illegal bookmaking business.

From stories my mother told me, another James died at five months, another at about nine months, back then it was hard for children to survive without proper food and care. Peter was a different story, mom was in labor for over three days and Peter was born with the cord strangling his throat, only lived a few minutes and weighed 19 pounds and 2 ounces. Mother was only four foot ten inches tall. Again, in her case she was forbidden to mourn. The next funeral I remember was for my sister Rosalie, Rosalie had polio and I remember her as a child-walking stiff legged, falling and struggling until the disease took her. Again no grieving was allowed. Some may think by today's standards Mom was stupid. She wasn't! She only did what it took to survive. Somewhere in Cleveland's Calvary Cemetery's Potters field lies the grave of a child taken by a disease that today goes ignored or practically unheard of. In our modern society all
The children would have survived. How fortunate to have grand children and live to see them grow into adults. From the batch of eight we are now two.

I remember other funerals of mainly children, the Biblical wailing and gnashing of teeth were well apparent. Screaming, not wanting to let the casket go into the ground, falling upon the casket, grabbing the deceased, while relatives wrenching the remains from the parents and holding them from harms way. In one case a nephew died and through the entire furor the casket was knocked into the grave, retrieved and properly lowered.

Sometimes we marvel at ancient sites, medieval and renaissance paintings and buildings. The Cathedral of Toledo, Spain gave me the chills every time I entered it. I kept entering and feeling these chills, even our castle in Oriolo is a marvel! Who is a village of maybe 3500 persons and possibly 600 males built the castle? These are feats that can't be duplicated. After 30 years of being agnostic I felt there had to be miracles, nobody could put together these treasures without faith and inspiration. That day the Cardinal of Spain was hearing confessions and I went. We discussed my past misgivings. I was welcomed back. Upon leaving I said what about penance, he said, " your lost years are you penance. Enjoy Spain." I keep trying to tell persons; "don't look for the past in one nest"; we're all cousins. Trace our footprints! Spain, Greece, Albania and the beautiful people and area of Abruzzi with its white Adriatic beaches and probably the best
Calimari in the world. These are part of our creation.

Today we take all for granted, especially younger generations. Family, friends, customs, heritage are meaningless. It isn't the generations, it is we. We are lousy teachers caught up in fast foods, the idea that a pill will save or prolong life is heresy to human nature. We've abandoned our heritage and future. Is this the thanks we give to past generations that have endured slaughter, starvation, murder, despair and fear, it was real, they endured and did it for us. Longfellow wrote a few sonnets and fables of Southern Italian life, such as, The Bells of Atri, (Abruzzi) The Sicilian Fisherman and King Robert of Sicily along with other famous Italians. The following is a modern translation of his "The Grave". Fourth and fifth paragraph. Possibly it explains the wretchedness of mourning. We search "names" or "ships"; we are not descendants of kings or emperors, but something better yet. When the ices of the "Ice Age" began to melt, we were the beginning of possibly European life and civilization. As George Lilli once told me, his family crest is a "pick in the dirt and a shovel in a pile of manure". Thank you for the privilege!

Doorless is your house; Here you are laid,
And dark it is within; And you leave friends:
There you are detained Now you have no friends,
And Death has the key. Who will come to you.
Loathsome is that earth-house, Who you will never see
And grim within to dwell. How does this house please you;
There you shall dwell, Who will ever open the door for you,
And the worms shall divide you. And descend for you;
For soon you will be so loathsome
And hateful
Jim Frega - Fall 1999
Viva Calabria Magazine