LIVING AND LEARNING TOGETHER UNDER ONE ROOF

Down through the generations, kids have had problems leaving the family nest and staying there. With the price of today's new homes averaging out, in many California locations, at $600.000 to $900.000, it's no wonder most young couples are finding it difficult to purchase their first home.

Parents of these adult children are perplexed by it all. But, not to worry mom and dad, there's an upside to this situation. With a little mutual understanding and patience the time these parents and grandchildren spend together, all together under one roof, could turn out to be the best bonding time of their lives.

I speak from the personal knowledge of having lived several years under the same roof as my parents, grandparents and great-grandparents. Four generations under one roof meant more than a tight squeeze, it meant time spent together that would become a treasured part of our lives.

The depression years forced Mom and Dad to return to the family nest. Dad was working full time at the Del Monte Canning plant. His weekly pay varied from $15.00 to $20.00. With rent to pay, and a wife and children to support, Dad's paycheck was stretched to the breaking point.

After many late night discussions, and family meetings, it was decided that Mom and Dad would move back home with Mom's folks, long enough to save up for a down payment on a home of their own.

Moving back into the family home wouldn't be easy. The house would be brimming with four generations of family members. But, eventually, everyone would find a special role to play. Great grandpa, the eldest in the house, used his expertise at growing vegetables and pruning fruit trees to keep the family well fed. In the warm summer months, great grandma employed her tried and true canning recipes to put up jars of string beans, zucchini, peppers, cherries, peaches and plums for the winter.

Grandma and Mom did the cooking and housecleaning. Dad and Grandpa worked full time jobs to pay the bills. Our grandparents also served as our regular baby-sitters. To keep us entertained they'd spin long family yarns, exciting tales of Great Grandpa's days in the Italian cavalry, days when he rode his trusty white stead, Diablo, bravely into battle. Or grandma's stories of her lovely little village of Abruzzi near the Adriatic cost, where she worked for her Papa in the flour mills. I don't remember all the stories I was told during those years, but enough to pass along to the next generation.

Living with our grandparents was a lot of fun for us kids, but mom and dad had to make some major concessions in order to bring harmony to Grandpa's house. Grandpa valued his old-world beliefs and traditions and his home and lifestyle reflected those beliefs. Grandpa stubbornly clung to his old world ways.

Mom and dad were part of a modern generation, who liked the jazzy sounds of boogy-woogy, Benny Goodman and Sinatra, while grandpa preferred a Puccini opera. Mom and Dad liked a fashionable cocktail before dinner, but grandma and grandpa frowned on mixed drinks- allowing only red wine or sweet anisette liquor to be consumed before dinner.

It was especially difficult for Mom who, like most young women of her generation, liked to wear scarlet red lipstick and nail polish, her hair bleached and worn in a page boy style (alla Veronica Lake), padded shoulders, glittery jewelry and dresses. Grandma, on the other hand, believed in a freshly scrubbed face, neatly cut nails, a practical house dress and apron, and her hair neatly tucked into a tight bun. It was good enough for her mother and her grandmother before her and it was good enough for mom.

Despite these differences of opinion on fashion and music everyone in the family shared the same fundamental values and were able to get along. And, eventually, each of us came to learn something new and valuable from the other. Under grandma's watchful eye, Mom became a fabulous cook, learning to prepare traditional Italian recipes; grandma, to everyone's surprise, began wearing a little of Mom's red rouge, but only on special occasions. And, after hearing a mix of Crosby, Sinatra and Goodman records Grandpa became a fan of the big band sound.

From Great Grandma and Grandpa, I learned the wisdom of patience and to appreciate the little things in life. I remember how content they were just to sit together on an old pine bench under the shade of their favorite fig tree; how patiently they sat there peeling the delicate skin from a soft, ripe fig, and how reverently they savored its sweet fruit while speaking in quiet tones to one another. My grandparents were just ordinary people, but to me they were fascinating. Though the times they lived in were simpleways, and their lives were unadorned, I'm forever richer for having known them.

From us children, our Grandparents learned to rekindle in their own lives some of the childlike anticipation we felt for each new day and to share our contagious, wide-eyed excitement for the Christmas holidays. We touched each other’s lives in a way we'd always remember. We learned lessons about life and about ourselves that would remain with us a lifetime.

I remember asking my Grandmother, how she could tolerate having so many people living under her roof, including her ailing mother. She looked at me and smiled and, in her typical way, responded with a generational story written many years before by Jacob Grimm. It's a story that has stayed with me all these years.

There once was an old man who lived in a village with his son and his son’s wife and child. The old man was deaf and blind and had trouble eating his food without spilling it. Sometimes, accidentally, the old man would drop his son's fine china and break it. The son and his wife were disgusted by the old man and made him eat out of a wooden bowl behind the stove. One day the little grandson was working with some pieces of wood. When his father asked him what he was making, the little boy answered, "I'm making a wooden trough for you and mother to eat out of when I'm grown up". The next day, the old grandfather was back at the table eating out of his son's best china. Not another word was ever said on the matter again.

The realization that we all need help, sooner or later in our lives, is a good reason for compassion. Today’s immigrant community isn’t so far different from the earlier immigrants, like my family who followed the shadow of their ancestors to the New World. Today many of the young and old generations from across the sea also share life together under one roof. Marking time, just as my mom and dad once did, until they can save enough to purchase a home of their own. And while they’re saving they are also learning lessons that will shape their morals and attitudes and stay with them a lifetime.

 

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