The story of my mother’s life cannot be told without weaving into it the fabric of the whole wonderful Mariano family. That fabric is inseparable, unbreakable, enduring, undying, indestructible and everlasting.
Erminia Jovanna Maiorano, was born on June 25, 1915 in Taranto, Italy, southern Italy, on the Ionian Sea Coast, a lovely area with vineyards and groves. She was a twin but her sister, Rose died young. Aunt Rose would later be named in memory of her sister, Rose. Erminia was the second oldest after Grace and had seven younger siblings. Her name was Americanized by those who couldn’t pronounce it properly, and was changed to Emily Jean Mariano.
Emily came to America, through Ellis Island in 1922 on the ship Presidente Wilson in third class steerage, with my Grandmother Chiara, Aunt Grace and Uncle Tony. As far as I could research, the family first arrived in Ashmore, PA, where Uncle Peter and Uncle Angelo were born. Grandpa Fracesco (Frank) worked on the railroad with Libby Tristan, who was Faith’s, Frank’s and Barbara’s grandfather. Mr. Tristan witnessed to his friend, Frank, and Grandpa gave his heart to the Lord. Our family, formerly Catholics, were now Protestants. Life was difficult and railroad work was unpredictable. Whenever Grandpa was laid off, the family would pick up and move to the next small town wherever work could be found, but our family was never once on relief. They moved to Buck Mountain, PA, where Aunt Rose was born; Freeland, PA, where Uncle Joe was born; and Wilkes-Barre, PA, where Uncle Dave and Uncle Dan were born.
Emily loved school but had to leave at the age of 14 to get a job and help out at home. She helped Grandma in the kitchen and did lots of cooking and cleaning for all the kids. In addition, her first job was in a pants factory in Wilkes-Barre. It was exhausting work in a hot factory, pressing pants all day on a huge presser machine. Aunt Grace worked there too, but was in the sewing department. This was when they were 14 and 16 years old.
In 1942, the family moved from Lincoln Street to Grant Street in Wilkes-Barre. My Dad, Ray Thomas was courting Emily, driving up from Shickshinny to Wilkes-Barre to go to the Italian church she attended (even though he didn’t speak Italian!). He was quiet but loved to read, a strong, honorable, self-taught man who also had to leave school early to help out his family on the farm.
There was another young man in the Italian church, Frank Perrigino, who liked Emily. She was nice to him but didn’t want to date him. Aunt Rose said Frank was ugly as sin!! Frank’s father was an invalid, in a wheelchair and Aunt Rose was asked to look after the father one day. She spotted a framed photo of Emily on Frank’s family’s piano. He’d taken it from their house without asking anyone, so Rose promptly stole it back. Frank was furious and called her a thief but Rose told him, you stole it first!!! That wasn’t the end of ugly Frank. Now Ray was dating Emily and Frank threatened to shoot him at church. Luckily, neither Ray nor Frank were in church that night but everyone was scared that Frank would bring a gun. Ray was a muscular miner, a farmer and Harley-Davidson rider, so it’s probably lucky Frank stayed home. Ray was drafted into the Army shortly thereafter, but before he left, he and Emily were engaged.
During the war, Bridgeport Brass was hiring. They were manufacturing arms and ammunition for our fighting forces. Their motto was: We shall fight until Victory. Grandma and the rest of the family couldn’t move immediately, so Grandpa Frank, Emily and Rose lived temporarily at Mrs. Hysten’s rooming house in Bridgeport, across the street from the Tristan’s. They all worked at Bridgeport Brass, walking to work together every day. Every morning Mrs Hysten would serve up hard lumpy oatmeal for Emily and Rose to eat before work. Rose never wanted to eat it, but Emily would tell her to eat it because they didn’t want to hurt Mrs. Hysten’s feelings. My mother was always a kind, caring person.
At Bridgeport Brass, Emily was the floor supervisor and inspector of the 20 mm shells they produced on noisy, gigantic machine presses. Rose worked on a tapering machine, a relatively easy job loading shells in a chute where they’d be tapered and boxed. One day, Rose had to work in Emily’s department because they were short of help. She had to take the shells out of the conveyor belt, inspect each one to be sure the little holes were in the top of each and pack them in a box. It was like the “I Love Lucy” episode where Lucy was on the candy line! The shells were piling up higher and higher. Emily came over to help Rose out and all they could do was laugh as Emily kept telling her to go faster. Needless to say, Rose begged her supervisor never to send her to that department again. As I write and reminisce, it makes me smile to remember all the times (many in church) when Emily and mostly Rose, would start laughing uncontrollably over something or someone, until tears rolled down their faces. Love, fun, laughter, humor, great memories.
My Dad, Ray was in the Army Corp of Engineers in Iceland building runways, working demolition and explosives, skills he’d learned while working in the Pennsylvania mines. He was about to get discharged, but was kept in longer because the war broke out. When he was given a two week leave, he came home to marry Emily. In two weeks they planned a simple wedding and were married December 24, 1944 in the Italian church. The custom in that church was for the bridal party to sit through the whole church service and get married AFTER that. My father didn’t speak much Italian (even though he was Italian!) and had to learn to say, “Se Io voglio” so when the minister asked him, he could say, Yes, I will. Aunt Rose was the maid of honor and Uncle Joe Re was best man. They drove to Miami Beach for their honeymoon. My mom was a little apprehensive and wondered if her husband, the chicken farmer from Shickshinny, could FIND Miami Beach! But they had a wonderful trip.
The war ended and my Dad was discharged in 1945 and they moved to Shickshinny, PA to a farmhouse owned by my Dad’s parent, David and Lucy Thomas, who lived next door. It was real country, farms, cows, chickens, pigs, and barns. Emily was very lonely and missed her family. They moved to North Hampton Street in Wilkes-Barre, near Emily’s family and friends. My brother David and I were both born in that house.
Lena Fabi was a mid-wife and friend who lived next door to Grandpa and Grandma and took care of all the bumps and bruises that those Mariano boys got. Lena delivered my brother and me at home, along with delivering Uncle Dave at 14 pounds at home and Uncle Dan at not much less, also at home. Lena’s husband Caesar worked at the hospital and would bring home tubs of ice cream for the Mariano kids. He also had Uncle Pete and Uncle Angelo go to the corner saloon to buy him a tub of beer! Guess nobody asked for IDs back then.
In 1950, the Uncles bought Serre Trucking in Danbury and everybody moved from PA to CT. My Mom and Dad bought a two-story house on James Street and Dad went to work renovating it. Emily was a stay at home mom and since I went to elementary school on Locust Avenue, a half block away, I’d come home for lunch every day and she’d be there with lunch and a smile and hug. She later did work outside the home but never did learn to drive. She never felt the need since she and my Dad did everything together. In her 50’s, developed severe diabetes and bravely did her best to fight the ravages of that horrible disease. My Dad was at her side day and night. He called her “his Jeannie”. She died when I was just 39 years old. I miss her every day, her smile, our talks, her unconditional love and guidance. Years after her death, until his death, my Dad took her framed photo with him wherever he traveled. True love.
After I married and my brother was in Vietnam, my parents moved to Pocono Lane in Danbury, and Grandma Mariano lived with them after Grandpa died. On the day Grandma was ready to go to heaven, she had a wonderful dinner of spaghetti with fish that Emily made for her. Aunt Rose and Uncle Tony were with her for dinner. The rest of the brothers and sister gathered around her bedside and they sang hymns to her. Grandma raised her hand and said ‘praise the Lord”, closed her eyes, and went to heaven. Peacefully, surrounded and supported by her family as she had been her whole life.
One more story, and this is about my wonderful Aunt Rose. She’s like a second mother to me, the one I love to talk with. All her life, Aunt Rose has had such a sense of humor, and a generous, kind, and loving heart. In case this story hasn’t been shared, years ago, Aunt Grace (who was a superb seamstress but a really lousy driver), had a slight car accident in Danbury. She hit a pole and Aunt Rose was in the car with her. Nobody was hurt, but the police arrived. Aunt Grace was a nervous mess giving them the details, her name, etc. The policeman asked Aunt Rose her name and age and she calmly said she was 39. I believe she was much closer to 49 at the time. Yep, that’s how it was listed when it hit the Danbury News Times, too. I could go on, but I’m sure my time is up!
We have been so blessed to have shared this rich, amazing heritage. I am thankful for such precious memories that make me smile. I wish all of you could have known my parents, Emily and Ray. You would have loved them.
Much love, Joyce
