FROM A DISH OF SPAGHETTI – Michael Martino

Boston – Ramiseto, Ventasso

An American in love with Italy. He recounts with shining eyes.

In a certain way this story starts with a dish of spaghetti. My father was a United States soldier, of Italian origins, who decided to join the army during WWII to demonstrate his strong attachment to the United States. After fighting for 5 long months in Guadalcanal in 1942, he was displaced in Melbourne. He dialed the first Italian name in the telephone book in order to ask for a plate full of spaghetti. The Santospirito family hosted him, where Maria, an 18 year old babysitter, worked. That night he brought Maria to dance and in July of ’43 they got married. The young bride’s mother was a Bronzoni from Ramiseto, her father a Leoncelli from Busana. He had escaped the Fascist repression fleeing to Melbourne where the rest of his family eventually joint him.

At the end of the war he returned to the United States, while my mother was able to rejoin him in ’46, disembarking in San Francisco and taking a train to Boston. My mother loved telling that there were 500 women on the train, all soldier wives reuniting with their husbands.

I discovered Italy in 1971. I didn’t want to go to college after High School: the Vietnam war was going on, military service was still compulsory and I didn’t wish to enroll. So I decided to leave before the call, joining a friend of my mother’s who lived in Segrate, Milan. Mrs Grasselli and my mom had been college mates and had kept contact. I still remember the boxes my mom used to send over, full of clothes we didn-t need anymore. I started working for an important artistic glassmaker.

In 1974, during one of the typical family encounters with my relatives, I had a severe accident on the road between Busana and Ligonchio. I=’ve spent a lot of time in hospital in Castelnovo and Parma, I was afraid I could die and this arroused in me a crisis I can define “spiritual”.

Sono tornato negli USA, dove mi sono sposato con una ragazza di origini italiane nel ‘75, ma ho sempre mantenuto un forte legame con l’Appennino.

Nell’88 sono riuscito a tornare vendendo lampadari in Italia; questa attività mi ha permesso di viaggiare tra USA e Italia. Durante una di queste trasferte, mio cugino Domenico mi ha fatto vedere la Chiesa di Nismozza che don Mario stava restaurando ed ho dato la disponibilità per rifare le vetrate. Poi mia mamma mi ha chiesto di preparare le vetrate della Chiesa di Ramiseto e Busana, luoghi di origine dei nonni. Ho proseguito con Cecciola, Nigone e Camporella.

Per me è importante questo lavoro, non lo faccio per soldi ma per un impegno personale, perché ho recuperato quella dimensione spirituale che l’incidente stradale aveva toccato. Grazie a mia moglie mi sono avvicinato a Gesù, lei mi ha fatto leggere la Bibbia in modo diverso. Ho capito che la vita eterna è un dono ed è già cominciata, basta credere in Gesù per capirla, non si può comprare con delle opere, ma va solo apprezzata. Ho accettato la mia vita vivendola come un ringraziamento. Per questo con le mie opere nelle Chiese dell’Appennino, voglio ringraziare Gesù. Lo voglio fare dove mi sento a casa e dove sono sempre stato accolto come uno di famiglia.

Italiano