Fat Johnny Russo

Last Sunday, my Uncle Johnny Russo died. Uncle Johnny was married to my father’s only sister, Fanny. Aunt Fanny was the only daughter (out of 8 children) of Mary and Pellegrino Certa of Ribera Sicily.

Fanny (Frances – ironically the same name as my Mother, although she is not Sicilian and not even Italian! My father married outside his race to Frances Jane McNelis from Donegal, Ireland) Her given name is Onofria. Allegedly my Grandmother was placed under duress to name her daughter Onofria, a name she dispised. The rational remains unclear, however, I sure there was some sort of provincial law involved. However, my Grandmother protested stating she would only name her daughter Onofria if the child were brought forth into life on St. Onofria’s feast day. Wouldn’t you know she was!

Fanny was sent back to Sicily to be reared by her Grandmother in Ribera. Her mother thought this best being in a house with all males and she working long hours in the family grocery store (28th St. and Second Ave, NYC- my Uncle Vincent still lives there) In any event, when Fanny was old enough to return, she did. Not knowing a single word of English she was mercilessly taunted by her rotten brothers.

Fanny donned light amber hair and blue eyes, uncommon, although not extremely rare for Sicilians in her neighborhood, In fact, I tend to favor my father’s side of the family. Folks would automatically deduce my features from Erin, not so! My mother is a colleen.

Fat Johnny as he was known came to court the only daughter of Mary and Pellegrino Certa. My father, being the baby at that time was mostly kept under the watchful eye of his older sister (and also served as built-in chaperon) My Father relished the visits from Johnny. To keep him at bay Johnny plied the young Michelangelo (Angie) with quarter dollars “to get lost”, A king’s ransom in the 1940’s!

Fanny loved to cook and Johnny loved to eat. It was a match made in heaven!

I don’t know too many other personal details about Uncle Johnny . I know they lived in Rego Park Queens for most all of their married life. Journeys to Queens from our home in rural New Jersey always seemed like a major adventure. Fat Johnny would take all three of us to the World’s Fair park while he walked “daisy” his little dog of undetermined breed. We would marvel at the lonely structures and listen and watch intently for the airplanes flying over from JFK Airport. He smoked “guinea stinkers” short fat black DeNapoli cigars. I loved the smell of them. They came packaged in stylishly designed navy blue and bright yellow boxes.

Uncle Johnny was a master at Parlor tricks. He would find a quarter hidden in most any part of our bodies. He had a forefinger that separated from its second knuckle! He could make playing cards disappear like magic! He was an endless source of card tricks and slight of hand. In short, Fat Johnny Russo was mystical fun to all of us kids.
Uncle Johnny and Aunt Fanny were known for throwing pies at each other and other people. No one knew who would get a pie in the face, but someone always did at family bar-be-cues when they would converge on my Great Aunt Marianina’s egg farm during the summer or in the basement kitchen of their Queens brownstone.


We have an abundance of Johns, Peters and Josephs in our family. Fat Johnny wasn’t really meant as mean as it sounds. Everybody loved him – we just needed a way to identify him from the rest of the Certas named John.

I’m not sure what his occupation was. Something in “shipping” probably. A few of my older uncles were involved with the shipping industry; I’m not sure how or why…they just sort of had these jobs. I don’t recall Uncle Johnnie ever having hair. He was very short and fat. Bald with beady brown eyes, very Genovese. He had a fantastic sense of humor and a great silly laugh to go with it.

His mother lived well beyond 100 years. In fact, she may still be alive in her wheelchair. I don’t recall hearing that she had passed on. He loved to eat, drink and be merry. In fact, he insisted on no wake, just a fast funeral and a big party. Classic Johnny Russo!

Nothing Wrong With You

It's a slow parade
Down a dusty road
We've learned to take abuse
From devils we don't know

People who have lost all heart
Look for someone else to blame
You just keep on walking
When they call you a dirty name

All the mud in this town
All the dirt in this world
None of it sticks on you
(You shake it off)
Cause you're better than that
And you don't need it
There's nothing wrong with you

The moment that we dread
It comes all too soon
Voices in your head
Still carry on the tune

Let the sound come in
From the world outside
You just keep on singing
When they tell you filthy lies

All the mud in this town
All the dirt in this world
None of it sticks on you
(You shake it off)
Cause you're better than that
And you don't need it
There's nothing wrong with you

Remember how it made you hurt
Even as you fight to go on
Turn it into something else
Turn it into something else

All the mud in this town
All the dirt in this world
None of it sticks on you
(You shake it off)
Cause you're better than that
And you don't need it
No, you don't believe it

All the mud in this town
All the dirt in this world
None of it sticks on you
(You shake it off)
Cause you're better than that
And you don't need it
There's nothing wrong with you
There's nothing wrong with you
No

I walk along with you

There's nothing wrong with you

~Finn Brothers

Coming down to the wire!

Less than 2 weeks to go! We've got all we need, wedding rings are ready, marriage license and ceremony and reception prepared. I need to order a cake and some flowers. I need a dress! Dress shopping this weekend for sure. The setting will be lovely the music, ethereal.

We've added in a few interesting segments to our ceremony that will be very different. The girls will walk up the aisle each with a different flower of their choosing. Pherrin wants Gerber Daisy, Kate wants White Lilly, Genevieve and Marisa Im not sure yet...but anyway, they will present each Mother with one and then add one to a vase on the *alter* The Minister will use this symbolism as each person individually being beautiful and bringing their beauty together in a new family (flowers in a vase)...

One other element I like is the celtic ring blessing. Each guest holds our wedding bans and says a prayer aloud or silent before we exchange the rings. I think this is so cool.

Surprisingly, Bernie is very traditional when it came to choosing music and readings. This is a new side to him. I conceded to Corinthians 13 and Ode to Joy -- but I got the celtic ring blessing and celtic music as a processional. It will be a good blend of traditional and non-traditional. We are adding in an Apache blessing as well.
I really enjoyed working with the minister who gave us lots of ideas and will be writing lots of parts herself.

It will be a beautiful start to *happily ever after*

THE MOST WONDERFUL OF ALL THINGS IN LIFE
~ By Sir Hugh Walpole ~


The most wonderful of all things in life is the discovery of another human being with whom one's relationship has a growing depth, beauty and joy as the years increase. This inner progressiveness of love between two human beings is a most marvelous thing; it cannot be found by looking for it or by passionately wishing for it. It is a sort of divine accident, and the most wonderful of all things in life.

I wonder about people who have blogs but never write in them, or stop writing for no apparent reason...or the worst...stop writing because of some blogmaspheric arguement with another blogger. I've seen it happen within the Fotolog community. People getting so passionate about some odd menutia or a message board arguement that the feel compelled to FLEE the community...a community where 8 times out of 10 there is no real bonafide human contact. Living in a world of make-believe. I think its hilarious how some folks develop Internet Muscle. Working in a field where I see a lot of mad dash email, it never ceases to amaze and/or entertain me. Oh well. I promise to blog more real words. I tend to get into lyric or poetry jags.

somtimes, especially at night, as I ride through the darkness, the sputtering of my failing volvo the only sound to be heard, I start to create blog worthy topics. Whole paragraphs form in my mind, only to be lost by the time I sit down to write. I had a good habit going last winter whereas I would take notes of possible blog subjects and revisit them nightly. I suppose that IS a better winter activity. In the summertime, who really wants to sit around, day or night on the PC thinking about things to blog about? I'd really rather be out doing thing to talk about rather than trying to create scenarios that can sometimes be danger in writing.

anyway, its just past one AM and I really need to rest. ciao bellas.

OUCH!

We did a lot this weekend. Transformed three bedrooms. I did something horrible to my back and its killing me. I dread going back to NYC tomorrow. I don't feel well at all.
Anyway. The bedrooms look beautiful. It took 2 coats of white to cover the dark maroon in pherrin's room which is now a lovely shade of blue named, Salty Tear. Pherrin choose a gorgeous green shade. Its the color of sea glass...called Winter Mint.

John's room is a subtle grey tone aptly named, Sparrow. lots of scraping, taping, painting, up and down ladders, sanders racing...shop-vacs. I love bernie's shopvac. I think I should just start using it for everything. No more stray legos or lite-brite pieces to worry about...just scoop them all up and sort it out later.

My head is pounding, my back is throbbing and everything else just hurts. good night.

Buddist Wedding Prayer

Today we promise to dedicate ourselves completely to each other, with body, speech and mind.

In this life, in every situation, in wealth or poverty, in health or sickness, in happiness or difficulty, we will work to help each other perfectly.

The purpose of our relationship will be at attain enlightenment by perfecting our kindness and compassion toward all sentient beings.

Lama Thubten Yeshe
December 1979

My Langan Love

Where Lagan stream sings lullaby
There blows a lily fair:
The twilight gleam is in her eye,
The night is on her hair.
And, like a love-sick lenanshee,
She hath my heart to thrall:
Nor life I owe, nor liberty,
For love is lord of all
And often when the beetles horn
Hath lulled the eve to sleep,
I steal unto her shieling lorn
And thro’ the dooring peep.
There on the cricket’s singing stone
She spares the bog wood fire.
And hums in sad sweet undertone
The song of heart’s desire.

Irish Traditional

I'm leaning heavily toward this lovely Irish folksong for our processional.