As early as I can remember, the one tradition that stands out to me is the annual family trips to Batavia, NY. It is there where the patriarchs of the family resided. My grandparents came to this country from Italy and settled in New York. Batavia to be exact. It is there that they raised their seven children. The family home where my father was raised became the home of gatherings when I was growing up. Whenever my father visited, his siblings were on hand to visit with him. It didn’t matter that they had families of their own. Siblings were more important! I can clearly remember the many family gatherings around the kitchen table. It was full and then spilled over into additional chairs. Dad was important! My father, my aunts and uncles (his siblings) looked out for one another. They took care of each other despite having spouses and their own families. They were extremely close.
As an adult, it became increasingly harder to make the trip to Batavia. I was raising a family of my own nor did I want to make the trip without one or both of my parents with me. My parent’s tradition continued for as long as they were able. I stopped the trips. I kept in touch with my aunts by phone – my uncles didn’t talk on the phone much. I sent out photos of my growing children in their annual Christmas cards. When my father died, the trips didn’t seem the same. My aunts and uncles aging. Surroundings of the city and family home changed.
After the family had passed on, my cousins started the annual family reunion tradition. Every other year, we would all travel to Batavia to spend time with one another. The reunions were fun and I learned more about my aunts and uncles from my cousins. When my mother passed away, I no longer have the desire to make the trip to the family home and city. The patriarchs were gone. Visiting wasn’t the same. Closing the door on this chapter, I reflect on my memories should I ever want to go back to my father’s “home.”
Writings By Vinni 
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