Friday Night Lights

Friday Night Lights - tangledpasta.net

Friday Night Lights – tangledpasta.net

By Mary Anna Violi | @Mary Anna Violi

One of the few television programs I watched was Friday Night Lights.  Now I am able to relive the excitement of the show through Netflix.  In as much as I relish Friday Night Lights, it tugs at my heartstrings.  This has much to do with hearkening back to those Friday night football games of my small Catholic high school and the rush of adrenaline in cheering on a winning football team.

And win we did.  As the Vietnam War raged on, filling the newspapers and nightly news programs with gory scenes of war in a far off country, high school football permitted our minds to drift elsewhere, at least on Friday nights.  While race riots and urban terrorist networks burned our major cities, wreaking death and havoc nationwide, we screamed and yelled for our high school football team.  It made the chaos beyond our turf’s realm disappear, at least on Friday nights.

Years later, we reside near the local public high school that my daughter attended.  Daylight grows shorter, and dusk casts its shadows earlier than I like, yet the roar of the crowd in the high school stadium, the queues of cars up and down our residential streets, the jubilant shouts of spectators, the blasting echo of the sports announcers combine to remind me of the joy of watching a football team’s win on the field.  My high school alma mater’s team went downstate for championship games throughout my four years at the school.  To this day, photographs of those championship seasons line the walls of the school.

I played in the band for those football games of yore.  We had to have been the smallest of the area’s high school bands, but we had a young, dynamic bandleader, and our hearts were strong because we got to play our school’s fight song repeatedly throughout those four years.  Kyle Chandler, who plays Coach Eric Taylor in Friday Night Lights, has that same square-jawed look of determination that my high school’s Head Coach had.  The Assistant Coaches on Friday Night Lights remind me of the handsome ones at my alma mater during those four championship seasons.  The electric charge that runs through the Texas-based football show’s student body, boosters, team, and coaching staff, never fails to rekindle the passion of my adolescent self in the bleachers of those Friday Night Lights of yore.

Ciao for now.

Getting Together

My nephew Daniel with Cousin Marianne at our July family celebration -tangledpasta.net

My nephew Daniel with Cousin Marianne at our July family celebration -tangledpasta.net

By Mary Anna Violi | @Mary Anna Violi

   Tonight I had the good fortune of dining with my cousins.  The special occasion was a visit from Cousin Marianne’s sister-in-law, Mary Kay, from the Dallas, Texas environs.  Mary Kay’s husband, Cousin Tony remained behind in humid Texas [our Violi men traditionally dislike travel that takes them far from their homesteads].  Cousin Marianne’s sister Rita, her brother Donnie, his wife Jennifer, Marianne and husband Steve, and their daughter Chrissie were there too.  Having arrived 50 minutes late, due to a previous social engagement, I found I had just missed Zio Saverio and our Cousin Ned.  Our local Cousin Tony had to relinquish our company for football practice with the hometown Catholic team he’s coached for the past 20+ years.  The rest of us managed to make a spirited, noisy band of cousins. 

   Not only was the camaraderie exemplary, the food tasted mighty fine.  When I had the Violi Clan over in July, I served up baked rigatoni.  Cousin Marianne also makes a mean baked rigatoni.  Truth be known, we all love that rigatoni and ate it tonight con brio.  We can always count on heaps of Italian food, beverages, and family when we gather.  In the greater scheme of things, these are good to anticipate.

Cousins Tony, my brother Frank, Cousins Steve, Rita, and Zio Saverio at our Juy celebration-tangledpasta.net

Cousins Tony, my brother Frank, Cousins Steve, Rita, and Zio Saverio at our July celebration-tangledpasta.net

   No matter how much time has elapsed between our coming together en masse, we always pick up where we left off.  That is how comfortable we all are with one another; that is how long we have known one another.  Cousin Rita and I are the same age.  We grew up playing with our Barbie dolls together.  Our fathers were brothers, along with local Cousin Tony’s father. Our families met regularly and lived only a few blocks apart. While Zio Saverio is the lone living member of the original three Violi Brothers, I am grateful to have my cousins in my life.  They enrich my life immeasurably.

   Ciao for now.

 

 

Veteran’s Day, With a Dash of Panache

When my father was drafted into the U.S Army in during World War II, he posted a sign in his shoe shop window announcing that the business would be closed until he returned from the war.  Papa had been in the United States for ten years, having arrived on Ellis Island in 1933 from Southern Italy.

Ellis Island

Ellis Island (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“Why did you come here during the Depression?” I used to ask him.

“It was-a still-a okay to work in-a the United-a-States-a.  Italy no gotta nothin’ in-a 19-a-33.  It was-a hell-a,” he told me.

Papa was first sent to Texas for basic training.

“It was-a hell-a in-a that heat,” he observed.

Farm land in Texas panhandle near Amarillo, Te...

Farm land in Texas panhandle near Amarillo, Texas. Santa Fe R.R. trip (LOC) (Photo credit: The Library of Congress)

He was then transferred to Louisiana.

“Oh, my achin’-a back,” he lamented.  “It was a swamp-a and-a humidity to kill-a horse-a,” he remarked.

Louisiana Swamp

Louisiana Swamp (Photo credit: MSMcCarthy Photography)

“Why did you have to go in the Army?  You served in the Italian Army,” I argued.

“Listen-a to me-a, Honey.  It’s a honor to serve-a you country.  America is-a my-a country.  My-a country-a need-a me.  I go-a to-a the Army, ” Papa solemnly said.

Patriotism was a duty as he saw it.

During the Vietnam War, I attended a Big 10 college where anti-war demonstrations were common.  When I locked horns with Papa over the Vietnam draft dodgers, he was unmoved.

“I no-a say this-a war is-a right.  Soldiers-a die, and that’s-a bad.  But we-a in it and that’s-a that.”

I loved my father dearly, even when we differed in our attitudes about U.S. foreign policy.  He had an unshakable faith in the country that allowed him to realize his dreams of work, family, and college-educated children.  He proudly voted, he loyally served his city, his adopted country, his church, and his family.

U.S. Flag

U.S. Flag (Photo credit: vmf-214)

Papa was a true patriot.  He was a hero who never let me or anyone else down.  On this Veteran’s Day, Papa, I can still hear your voice ringing in my ears:

“God-a Bless America!

And all of Her Veterans.

Ciao for now.