Living With a First-Generation American Italian (Sicilian) Man

I live with a first-generation American Italian (Sicilian) man. He and his brother are identical twins, born to their mother when she was forty-five. Being her only children, you can imagine how they were coddled, and their heads filled until they believed they were the best thing put on God’s earth. Even as adults they have big, yet fragile, egos. Egos that send them from telling anyone who will listen how wonderful they are, to needing constant stroking to reaffirm that belief.

They can be kind and giving, but at the same time demanding. Although they don’t think they require a lot of attention, they always feel the need to be the center of attention. Living with him can take my emotions from being thankful for having him in my life, to wanting to scream with frustration.

When I said I was going to write about living with an Italian man, I was corrected by our good friend who is Italian. He told me I live with a Sicilian man, which is very different from a typical Italian man. If you are, or have lived with, a Sicilian man then you will understand the stories I will share today and in future blogs. If not, then you will at least get a good laugh from reading them. I’ve often thought that as a stand-up comic I would have material to last for years.

There are two things that I have learned living with him:

1. They can be kind and generous and are usually good natured.
2. You MUST have a sense of humor and remember you will never come first.

Having said all this, I am grateful to share my life with him and have these tales to tell. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I have had living them.

#1 - So This Is Italian Love

Growing up there were many things I was taught in regard to social gatherings. Don't interrupt others while they are speaking, use your inside voice, treat others with kindness, don't make a joke at another's expense; you know, the usual proper etiquette rules.

And then there is the gathering in an Italian household, which is a real eye opener.

My first experience going to an Italian family event was both frightening and entertaining. Not only was everyone talking over one another in loud voices, but they were actually yelling at one another. I stood back and wondered why they were all angry, and what were they angry at? Should I pick a side, and if so, which side should I choose? What if I take the wrong side? Maybe I should just take cover in another room.

I decided to find a corner to hide in for safety and just stood back and watched. As I observed the loud and chaotic exchange between them, I tried to decipher what they were all so upset about. Was there something said that set the melee into motion, or was it a continuation of a former argument? Certainly not the type of gathering I was accustomed to.

Slowly, I began to realize that they were not actually angry with one another. The loud and chaotic conversation seemed to be a normal way of communication in this Italian household, and the zingers thrown at one another that I took for insults were actually filled with affection. 

Who knew that this was Italian love?