What Was In The Trunk?

It tells a story of a journey that endured the test of time.

The basement of our home had its assigned areas, each to an occupant of the three-decker home. I loved to explore my grandfather’s because, among his tools and a collection of stuff, there was a wine press that carried a familiar musty smell of grapes. But there was something more that intrigued me. It was a wooden trunk tucked away in the corner of his space.

Though the chest looked simple, I wondered what treasures it held.

“Mom, Grandpa has a trunk in the basement. What's in it.”

“Oh, probably nothing now, Edward. It's what he and my mother took with them when they left Italy. Leave it.” I was intrigued because I was reading Treasure Island and got carried away, thinking what might be there would be like what seafarer Billy Bones had in his; a map that led to buried gold.

Grandpa’s wooden trunk was wearying; worn and weathered. The leather handles were cracked. Its edges were curled, and there seemed to be some critters boring it because I spotted little trickles of dust coming from tiny holes in the sides. The metal straps were tarnished.

Courtesy of Alarmy (www.alarmy.com)

Curiosity won.

I opened it. I was disappointed. It had a musty odor. The lining was torn. There were a few tools, but little else. No map. No treasures.

Nowadays, I wish I had that trunk. Conveying a sense of history and adventure, it was the symbol of their travel from Italy as immigrants in the early 1900s. I thought of it when I was to give this speech below on the occasion of my induction into the RI Italian American Hall of Fame. The trunk became a metaphor. It tells a story of a journey that endured the test of time.

My acceptance speech at The Induction Ceremony

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I was somewhat reluctant when I was asked to be honored in The RI Italian American Hall of Fame. After giving it considerable thought I replied, “Yes, I'll accept on behalf of those who made it possible; my brave immigrant grandparents and my parents.

When the grandparents left Italy in the early 1900s, they carried a small trunk. Do you ever wonder what was in that trunk?

What wasn't there was what they left behind: parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, and siblings; likely never to see loved ones or their homes again.

They had to decide what to bring on that difficult ocean voyage because space was limited.

The bare necessities . . . cooking and craft tools, possibly a picture of their parents, family heirlooms, maybe some religious items, trousseau linens, and necessary provisions for the trip.

Certainly not running shoes or a change of clothes. The clothes they took were what they wore.

But they brought another trunk, this one invisible. We couldn’t see it, but they did. It was filled with hope, faith, optimism, and a work ethic. A rich Italian culture.

And the need to be American.

It represented the core, the foundation of their values. It's the part that isn't immediately visible, but it's what supports and gives meaning to the rest.

This refers to the hidden qualities, beliefs, experiences, or emotions that make up the core of the person or thing. These can be positive or negative, conscious or unconscious, and they often influence behavior and decision-making.

They brought another intangible trunk for me, for us.

When growing up, I rarely thought of my ethnicity. My parents blended into the American society. But I witnessed my grandparents in the simplicity of what they did every day, not only to survive but to become successful and help us do the same. It had an impact, one that took me some time to appreciate.

The first time I traveled to Italy, I heard a beautiful language that I had to learn. While doing so over the years, I was introduced to literature, culture, art, history, and music. I heard the opera as a kid, but now I realize I should not have ignored it.

I opened that trunk even further. I saw more of what my grandparents put into it: pride, courage, patience, and a look to the future.

When I looked further, I could even see meatballs, sausage, and gravy.

To live under the same roof in that three-decker was the epitome of luck and circumstance.

The more I studied, the more I understood how I almost capitulated to not being Italian at one point. But NOW, I was beginning to understand what sustained them and all immigrants from all backgrounds.

I looked at my family, and I found a knapsack full of stories. The stories had to be told. So I wrote.

Thanks to my grandparents and parents, I grew up in a country in which I was completely integrated. And toward which they honored a deep devotion.

On Grandmother's wall were three symbols; the Declaration of

Independence and two pictures; the Pope and Frank Sinatra.

Discipline, patience. It was not easy. They were challenged. The depression, WWII, discrimination, and racism.

Now defined by new freedom, they knew what they had to do: keep working and form a bedrock. Get an education. And we did. My trunk was loaded. Finally, I understood.

So look in your trunks. There you will find the effects that help to make you who you are.

Preserve the memory of their incredible accomplishments. If we forget the bravery, sacrifices, the struggles of these early immigrants and what they gave us, it will be lost in the mist of time.

The assimilation and triumph of the Italy to America story is a far better narrative than what Hollywood produces. AND cries out to be told,

We must champion organizations like The Rhode Island Italian/American Hall of Fame.

I use their trunk as a metaphor to think about the depths of their courage and as a way to encourage a deeper understanding of what they did for us.

Yes, in our trunks, was a village that valued hard work, resilience, honesty, integrity, culture, tradition, and family. I appreciate it more every day.

And you my friends, colleagues, readers, mentors, teachers, nephews, my brother, my children and grandchildren, and my wife Diane who is incredibly supportive of everything I do. Yes, you all helped me on this journey.

You may not know how, but I do.

Starting with those brave grandparents and continuing with my parents, and you, I accept this wonderful honor for everyone who touched me on this journey.