Jan.7, 2001- Eagles' season lost, as well as a family

Renee Di Pietro perspectives editor

So it seems like winter is over. Good. I'm glad. I don't hate snow, but I seem to evangelize over and over again about how terrible I think it is. But I really don't hate snow or winter. I think I say I hate it because of what happened to my family a year ago.

Last January, after the Eagles lost their playoff game and the their season was officially over, I guess you could say two very precious people in my life also ended their season with me. They have since distanced themselves from me ever since that night.

That night I was at a big Sunday dinner and party with my family at my godparent's house. After the game, my mom and I got ready to drive home my great-aunt who lives in Southwest Philadelphia. My aunt and my cousin decided they wanted to come too, for the ride. We stopped at a supermarket on the way home so that my aunt could do a little shopping. She had lost her husband the year before and it was hard for her to get out now, but she refused to live any other way. I sometimes think that she feels that moving on in her life and out of her house will, in tum, be like leaving him,. even though he is only there in spirit.

The way to her house is through the city. My mom took a different route and drove under the speed limit because it was just one of those nights that the weather was calling for slippery roads from the somewhat melting snow. This road we· took was supposed to be safe, being bigger and wider than most in the neighborhood. This "safe road" is where my little world changed. I'll never forget how happy we all were before it happened.

I was just staring out the window, laughing non-stop at the way my mom and her sister were joking. I used to love how when I went out with my mom and her sister some people would question as to who was my mom. We all got along so well and tight that when the bond broke it was extra painful because we were so close.

I was not on the side of the impact. I guess some people call that luck, yet I don't know how I feel about it. I was sitting behind my mom on the driver's side. When the car was hit, I instinctively leaned up and harnessed my mom against her seat with my arms to keep her from crashing into the steering wheel. I didn't know what happened. It just sounded like a train hit us and felt like a horrible amusement ride without safety belts. I looked up and saw that we were going up onto the sidewalk and I held my mom tighter as I saw the row home feet away. The car stopped before the wall. We had run over a street sign that broke our momentum.

I was the first one out of the car. I emptied my purse out on the

Italians and their other hits

Hey mambo, mambo Italiano. After the passing of an "Irish" holiday we felt the need to take a little of the spot tight, even though St Patrick was born in Italy. So we

Alexis Strizziere assistant features editor thought we would take a minute to tell you why it is so good to be Italian.

Olive complexion allows us to stay tan in the winter and golden in the summer compared to pasty in the winter and burnt to a freckled crisp ending in a nasty peel in the summer. Not to mention the fact that we have beautiful blonde, brown and black heads of hair and a Mediterranean mystique to our feawres.

When we are not in the kitchen cooking the best food ever, we are keeping our houses spotless or sweeping the front stoop. There are statues, rosaries and crucifixes all over the house to resemble a small replica of a church. We take our faith seriously, which is why we have shrines in the back yard to Mary and St. FTancis.Do not forget the oversized gold crosses that men wear around their neck or the famous tattoo of the crucifix on their ann

Speaking of gold, it is a necessity in the Italian wardrobe. We could not leave our house with• out being covered in an extraordinary amount of gold, diamonds or anything else with a high price tag attached. Jewelry is nothing without the perfect outfit and shoes. Versace, Armani and sidewalk and grabbed for my phone. We needed an ambulance. I stared at the car. The windows were gone. Shattered. When I dialed the three numbers that are burned into everyone's head in case of emergency, I kept messing up. My hand could not steady itself to dial just three numbers, two being the same. Thankfully someone from across the street began to yell that they called for an ambulance as others also chimed in. I went up to my mom and asked her if she was okay. She said to go on the other side of the car and try to calm down my aunts. around. He wanted to make sure we were alright. The accident made the nightly news. Three generations of woman were hit by two 17-year-old boys· who ran a red light. The boys were fleeing the scene of a prior accident and speeding.

· When I got on the other side of the car I could not believe my eyes. The impact was horrifying. I grabbed my godmother's hand and my mom held her other one. I saw my mom wrap her rosaries around my aunt's hand. My cousin got out and was in hysterics. I called my godparents' house where the rest of my family was still at the party and I calmly grabbed a bystander from the parade-like crowd and asked for the address of the corner we were on.

The cop was nice. When my brother arrived he treated him to dinner and then asked if I could use anything. He couldn't believe I was in the car and uninjured. He insisted that get checked out. So I did.

Four hours later, I met with a doctor. I had a tiny scratch on my nose and my hair and clothes were covered in glass. The doctor asked me how I felt. I said alright. She told me that probably I would begin to be sore the next day and that it might last a while. She was right. I was sore. The two things I wanted to do most hurt so much: laugh and cry.

Dolce & Gabbana could not be wrong.

Cheryl Dressed to the Tranchitella "T" for every occasion, staff writer Italian women are known to never leave the house without their heels and lipstick.

.Besides our expensive jewelry and our exquisite taste in fashion we like good-looking men with fast cars and lots of cash to spend. Italian men are so sexy; they do not call them "Italian Stallions" for nothing.

Who better to have as a "good friend" than an Italian? We are loyal until the day we die and if double-crossed your body will be found in the bottom of the Hudson River "swimming wit da fishes!" All in all we think it is pretty safe to say we are the best.

The ambulances came, my dad and godfather arrived. But we all were transported in ambulances to the University of Penn hospital. I rode in the first ambulance with my mom and great-aunt while the firemen used the jaws of life to rescue my godmother. I held Il!Y mom's hand and had no idea of what was to await us for the rest of the night.

I was the only one not admitted immediately into the ER. Between my aunts, my mom and my cousin, the list of injuries was astounding and tied my stomach in knots. I circled between their four rooms as much as possible and then went out to the lobby to greet the rest of our family. There was a cop that stayed

But I wasn't seriously injured, at least not at the time. I say that because my family has never been the same since this night. My mom's sister and her entire family have sort of distanced themselves away from us. It hurts a lot. It's a serious injury that I don't think the doctor's could have expected. My aunts were in the hospitals for months. My mom and cousin were released early the next morning with their minor injuries but they were in pain for months afterwards and had to get rehabilitation weekly.

I don't know if the family still needs additionally physical healing before our love can be united again, but I just pray and hope and miss them a lot. I think that's why I hate snow. It reminds me of an event that I wished never happen one winter night.