OSDIA Nation

SOUTH CAROLINA

Seeking to counter the effects of lost membership during and after COVID-19, Myrtle Beach Lodge #2662 decided to hold an aggressive Membership Drive last April. Using their own building—complete with a dining room, bar, kitchen, and bocce courts—to promote the lodge, members launched an advertising campaign utilizing as many free resources as possible.

A four-person Membership Committee placed announcements on Craigslist, put flyers on bulletin boards in neighborhood amenity centers, posted on their Facebook page and website, and put weekly announcements on NextDoor.com (a free nationwide social networking service for individual neighborhoods in which posts made to the website are available only to other NextDoor members living in the same neighborhood). They also posted to numerous Myrtle Beachbased websites such as the Chamber of Commerce, local event calendars, etc. The only paid advertising included a $60 Facebook boost for local users and $400 to run several ads in the local newspaper the week of the event.

On the day of the Membership Drive, members greeted each visitor and showed them around the building and grounds. Heavy hors d’oeuvres— wings, meatballs, sausages & peppers, etc.— were served buffet style, and at least one long-term member was seated at each table. A silent video highlighting the lodge’s many activities looped on a large television. Each table had a small photo album showing lodge members at work and play.

After all attendees had an opportunity to eat, visit, and ask questions, a brief presentation was given. First, the Order Sons and Daughters of Italy in America’s video about the Order’s history—Triumphant Journey—was shown. Then members were assigned to speak briefly about lodge activities and benefits—such as weekly dinners and pasta nights, bocce/dart/golf leagues, fundraising tournaments, special events, and the local and national charities the lodge supports.

The event lasted two hours, and by the end of the evening, nearly every visitor in attendance had signed up … 44 new members in one day! In addition to that, about two-dozen people in the following two months came in to join, saying their friends had been in attendance and recommended that they sign up, too. Thanks to the hard work of the Membership Committee and the participation of many volunteers, the Myrtle Beach Lodge gained about 70 new members and surpassed its pre-pandemic numbers!

Myrtle Beach Lodge members host nearly fifty visitors (and now-members) at their Membership Drive last April. WASHINGTON

On May 15, 2021, Grand Lodge of the Northwest Immediate State Past President Rosetta Stella Beyersdorf and Jeff D’Amelio were honored with The Rosellini Award, which is presented at the Grand Lodge of the Northwest Convention every two years. The award is named for Governor Rosellini, who served the State of Washington as its 15th Governor from January 14, 1957 – January 13, 1965. He remains the only Italian American to serve in this position.

The Rosellini Award was created in 2011 by now-OSDIA National 5th Vice President Tony Anderson. Its very first recipient was John Croce.

Rosetta Stella Beyersdorf and Jeff D’Amelio proudly hold their awards at the Grand Lodge of the Northwest Convention.

Have you or your lodge done something remarkable that makes a difference to your community or promotes our heritage and Italian studies? If so, send details including your lodge’s name/ number, a brief write-up, and digital photos of 300 dpi to Editor Miles Fisher at mfisher@osia.org

Before their monthly meeting and dinner, Roma Lodge #254 of Virginia Beach set up a table at the front of the stage inside their lodge displaying 13 flags in honor of the American soldiers who were killed by a suicide bomber in Afghanistan on August 26. Yellow ribbons were tied around the potted trees standing beside the table and will be kept there until all Americans stranded in Afghanistan are brought home.

The Roma Lodge also held a moment of silence during their Labor Day Picnic in honor of these brave soldiers.

VIRGINIA

A display featuring 13 flags and the pictures of those military members lost in Afghanistan honor their memory.

(L. to R.) Roma Lodge members Marie Siebeking; Paul Siebeking, USN (Ret.); and John Gossner USN (Ret.).

Members of Williamsport’s OSDIA Lodge #2786 at the statue dedication ceremony with Silvio Laccetti (far right). PENNSYLVANIA

Members of Celebrando Il Nostro Retaggio Lodge #2786 of Williamsport were on hand to commemorate a statue honoring the accomplishments of Carl Stotz, the man who invented Little League. The statue was installed at Original Field in Williamsport, home of the Little League World Series. It recognizes the many positive aspects of Little League—including cooperation, teamwork, volunteerism, and democracy. The project was conceived and completed by The Silvio Laccetti Foundation, which seeks to increase public awareness of specific social and educational needs and highlight individual accomplishments in fields often overlooked.

“Through his hard work, dedication, and persistence, Carl Stotz created Little League,” said Founder Silvio Laccetti. “He made his vision, embodying the fantasies of so many kids, a reality. He deserves his place as a great leader.”

Silvio Laccetti pays a visit to Lodge #2786 following the ceremony.

BY LAURA DeSTEPHANO ISHLER

I never knew my Nany’s secret. Nobody was hiding it from me, but I never asked, so no one ever told me. I was born in St. Marys, Pennsylvania, in the 1950s, when families were governed by their parents. Children were loved but were not the center of the universe. Parents didn’t share grownup information with their kids. I was eight years old when my parents brought home my new baby brother with no advance warning to me. No one explained much to me, yet I still can’t believe I didn’t notice Nany’s secret. Then again, I never got to know Nany well for the simple reason that she spoke no English, and I spoke no Italian.

Nany was my father’s mother, an Italian immigrant from Troia, a town in the Puglia region. She had sparkling blue eyes and soft blonde hair, although for most of her life her hair was fiery red. For my birthday, she gave me little boxes of Italian candy with a special card signed in her beautiful handwriting.

When Nany came to visit, I often had my nose in a book. My library card was my best friend. Nany would look at my book, smile at me, and tousle my hair. How sad it must have been not to be able to converse with your own granddaughter.

My memories of Nany are fading, but I remember one afternoon, when I was a teenager and Nany opened my bedroom door. My Jim Croce album was playing on the stereo. He was singing “Operator,” a song about a love who had run off with the singer’s best friend. When he got to the mournful chorus—“Oh no, no, no, no”—Nany echoed him. “Oh no, no, no, no.” We burst out laughing. Music and “no” meant the same thing in both our languages.

Nany died when she was 80 and I was 17. Nine months later, my father died in an accident. I never got the chance to learn more about Nany from my father.

The author, Laura, being held as a baby by Nany and Grandpa (Giuseppe) in 1957.

Years later, I started asking questions to my extended family, and truth trickled out. At the age of 22, Nany fled World War 1 to join her siblings in the United States. She left sunny southern Italy for the brutal winters of rural northern Pennsylvania. Two months later, she married the man that her brother had chosen for her. By all accounts, they had a long and happy marriage. Grandpa died when I was two, so I never got to know him, either.

They spent their entire married life living in Johnsonburg, a small mill town in Pennsylvania that was three-quarters immigrant—Italian, Polish, and Slovak. The immigrants got along fairly well and learned a few words to communicate with each other. One family friend noted: “The problem was the other 25 percent. They were WASPS. Not only were they in charge, but there were times when crosses burned in the county to terrorize the Catholic immigrants.”

Nany’s daily life was typical of most wives in those days. She was a homemaker and not afraid of heavy labor. With a child on her hip, she lugged groceries from the market up the steep hills to her home. She hauled firewood, ran her laundry through a wringer, cooked, sewed her family’s clothes, grew vegetables, and cared for the chickens. She taught her children to kneel and pray. Her house was immaculate, though the neighbors were scared she would burn it down with all the prayer candles she lit. Nany and Grandpa with three of their four children by their house in Johnsonburg. Sam DeStephano (author’s father, back row), Jenny DeStephano (far right), and Joe DeStephano (in front). Their oldest child, Umbert, is missing from this photo, circa 1942, because he was in the war.

Nany was a strong and determined woman, but she wrestled with her own private pain. She wanted a larger family and wept as she was unable to have more children. One day, the local constable accidentally poured salt on her wound. He banged on her door and demanded to speak to her. A baby with red hair had been found in the river. The constable was questioning all the women in town who had red hair.

Nany exploded. How dare he think she would do something so evil. Nany grabbed his gun from his holster and hit him with the butt end of it. Then she threw him—and his gun—out of her house. The constable never bothered her again.

Of course, the WASPS did not associate much with the immigrants. They barked out their orders to the immigrant men who worked at the paper mill, the town’s main industry. The bosses had no contact with the immigrant women, who spoke only to each other and thus had no opportunity to learn English. Many women did not

Company A of The U.S. Army 804th Tank Destroyer Battalion, who fought in the Italian Campaign during World War II. The photo was taken in the Alps in May 1945 after the German surrender. In the center of the middle row, is Nany’s son, Sam DeStephano, age 19. Sam is the author’s father.

allow their children to speak English at home because it was viewed as disrespectful. After all, who knew what the children would be saying to each other, even potentially mocking their own parents.

When Nany’s oldest child, Umbert, went into first grade, his teacher called him a “dumb Wop” because he couldn’t speak English. Little Umbert diligently learned enough English so he could teach his younger siblings and spare them from humiliation.

In 1942, Nany sat on the front porch with her neighbor and boasted that her son (my father), Sam, would be graduating from high school. Her joy was short-lived as both of her older sons, Umbert and Sam, were drafted. Sam was sent to fight in Italy, and Nany was terrified he would be fighting against his cousins who lived there.

Johnsonburg was hit hard by the draft. Nany’s niece, Lucy, recalled how the draft board officials came into her classroom when she was a junior in high school and gave some boys an early graduation diploma so that they could be sent off to war. Thankfully, Nany’s sons both came home safely. But the war was not over for them. For years, Nany had to gently use a broom handle to awaken them in the morning, as they would thrash violently in their sleep.

As I learned more about Nany, I found joy in getting to know my extended family who shared memories of her with me. But I will never forget the morning when I learned Nany’s big secret. It started out with my innocent comment to Lucy.

“I wish I had beautiful handwriting like my Nany,” I said.

Lucy paused a moment and then gently said, “Your Nany could not read or write. Neither English nor Italian. She never went to school.”

My heart broke. How could Nany live eighty years without the written word? How did she survive? I was her granddaughter who loved to read and became the first in the family to go to college. Yet my Nany could not read or write? Why had I never known that? Why didn’t she have the chance to go to school?

No one could answer those questions for me.

I scoured the library to find some answers. Books opened my eyes to the history of southern Italy. For hundreds of years, the area was overrun by foreign invaders. Most of the inhabitants were peasants who were not allowed to own land. They lived like serfs, working all day for pennies. Few boys had the opportunity to go to school, and almost no girls did. Political efforts to unite the north and the south had only made it worse. High taxes, malaria epidemics, and natural disasters added to the grinding poverty and unemployment. During the early 1900s, an estimated one-third of the population immigrated to America to escape starvation.

Now some things made sense. We had received what had been denied to her.

After I learned about Nany’s illiteracy, I began wondering how many other secrets were disappearing with each generation. I went to an area historical society and was shocked to find no stories about the lives of the Italian immigrants—a complete void. All their stories were being lost.

So now I talk to the children of those immigrants—children who are all in their 90s. I want to gather the stories of their lives and the memories of their parents.

An African proverb says, “When an old person dies, a library is burned to the ground.” Half a century ago, Nany smiled warmly as I read my books. Today, I record her story, so her legacy will not be lost. Laura DeStephano Ishler (wjsctj@outlook.com) is a Christian, Penn State graduate, and retired Social Services Supervisor. Her stories have appeared in “Woman’s World,” “Chicken Soup for the Soul,” and “Wanderings.”