Teresa Saltarelli, age 70, of 40A Patricia Rd, Bridgeport, Devoted wife of the late Atillio Saltarelli. Mrs. Saltarelli died in Bridgeport Hospital Monday evening after a brief illness. She was born in Atella, Italy May 3, 1922 daughter of the late Vincenzo and Maria Giovanna Petollino and was a resident of the Bridgeport area for over 10 years and lived in Brooklyn most of her life. She is the beloved mother of Angela Altman of Bridgeport and Amelia MacDonald of Shelton and sister of Donato Petolino of Brooklyn and Rosa DiBiasa of Rome, Italy and also survived by six grandchildren and several nieces and nephews. Funeral will leave the Riverview Funeral Home, 390 River Road, Shelton Thursday at 9:45 am for a Mass in St. Lawrence Church at 10:30. Burial will be in Riverside Cemetery in Shelton. Friends may call Wednesday from 5 to 8 pm. At the family's request contribution may be made to St. Lawrence Religious Education (CCD) through the Funeral Director.
"How did you come up with your children's names?" is a question I get asked often. Let's face it. Teresa is not a typical name these days. I smile each time before I answer. I talk about how my mom said she named her first daughter after her grandmother, Maria Giovanna, and how I always intended to do the same. Yes, back when I was pregnant with Aryn, I already know the name of my daughter. And when I discovered I was pregnant with a girl, I knew her name would be Teresa, named after my grandmother, and Amelia would be her middle name. It was perfect.
We chose the same route for our second daughter. Adam's grandmother's name is Arlene, and with the passing of his great-grandmother the same year I was pregnant, it seemed too fitting to name our second daughter Lena Inez. Both girls now have grandmother roots tied into them far more than they can ever know. It empowers them and it enables them to hold their heads high as inevitable women in this society and I know they will both be amazing no matter what they do.
I feel the need to share about my grandmother for a few reasons. For one, our family is legit off the boat Italian. And I am so very proud of that. When Teresa came home from school saying that her teacher told her our great-grandparents came to America I corrected her that her grandmother came here. At a young and tender age, after many complications. Second, this month has now been
23 years since my grandmother passed away. I see my husband at the age of 31 still have his grandmother and I am in awe. I lost both my grandmothers at such young ages. And I was never alive to get to know either of my grandfathers. And I can honestly say that I feel robbed. You have no idea what I would do for a chance to spend another 5 minutes with any of them. To ask them what no 8 year old should know to ask. Family history, stories, words of wisdom. I got none of that.
Ever since my husband and I became "serious", his family has invited me to come watch "The Nutcracker" from Ballet Etudes, as it was a Christmas tradition in their family. Overjoyed, I always accepted and would watch not only the stage, but the audience next to me in awe as there would always be a representation of 3-4 generations together enjoying the show. And every year at the end of the night, I would become overwhelmed with sorrow that my family was "gone too soon" to enjoy traditions like this. I even invited my mother along on the 2007 trip to "The Nutcracker"...but she had already passed away before that could happen.
My memories of my grandmother are subtle, but they resonate within me remarkably. In my experience, she had a calming quality to her. She said what needed to be said and that was it. Mostly.
She also made a mean sauce, I enjoyed it often growing up. She would walk around the house in her slippers with pride and gave no fucks in terms of who saw her like that. I like to think I am reconnecting with my grandmother on the days I drop Teresa off at school in my slippers.
I remember an argument my mother and my grandmother were having in my kitchen in Connecticut one year. My mom was upset that Grandma painted her nails orange. It was a mix of English and Italian but my mother basically reprimanded her own mother about how a woman's lips needed to match her nails and if wasn't willing to use orange lipstick then she shouldn't paint her nails orange. Now, the feminist in me is crying out, "let her paint it whatever! It is her choice!" But the traditional woman in me smiles because, here is a daughter attempting to teach her mother fashion. And I smile because there were many stories of my mother being reprimanded by my grandmother while they lived in Brooklyn about how who she let walk her home was setting an impression on her to the neighbors.
I also very much remember my other grandmother...my Nannie. My father's mother had a petite quality about her. We would play cards and watch "The Price is Right". She taught me so many things about playing games. She taught me how to win, to lose, and most importantly, to enjoy the game. She had this ability to make me flock to her in her good days. When she got really sick, I was confused. I didn't quite grasp what (Alzheimer's) was happening to her. I was older than when my other grandmother got sick and died, but I just didn't comprehend how the brain is such an intriguing
part of our being. I also remember a home video of her mortgage burning party. Can you believe that was a thing back then? That people actually paid off their mortgages? That is something else I aspire to.
I remember all of this when I rear my own daughters. I take all this into account when I embrace how I want them to be. Do I want them to be proper ladies? Of course. Do I want them to define with our (their parents) help what the term "proper" means? 100% yes. Most of you who know me noticed I encountered a shift in the last few years. I went from someone who saw so many things as black and white to a person who decided that women do, in fact, have a choice.
I recently went on a trip for a bachelorette party in Las Vegas, Nevada. As we were a group of women traveling, every people we encountered warned us to stick together and to be safe. This included bar tenders, taxi cab drivers, and hotel concierge staff. "There is a UFC fight this weekend, so there are a lot of people...just be careful." Every person seemed to warn. And I had this light bulb moment in my head. Are you telling the male tourists to not rape the women they encounter? If you're thinking, No, this is just being safe for women...I ask you...why?! Why is this a normal interaction for a woman but not for a man? Why should it feel like an inevitable death sentence when the sonographer says you're having a girl? Where did this idea of the "weaker sex" come from? Because as a mother who is raising 2 girls at the moment, I can tell you, it is no freaking picnic.
I guess my point in this post today is that women today need to stand up for themselves and not let societal norms define how they should feel or act. My other point is that I understand the life my female family has gone through and I will do everything in my power to make your story be heard and respected. Even if it is just through a silly blog that hardly anyone reads.
