Heck, I’ve seen people with one percent or no percent Italian in their bloodlines who express love and pride for things Italian as if they were native Italian. The funny thing is, you don’t have to be 100 percent Italian to be considered Italian. I not only have the DNA tests to prove it, but also one has only to give a quick glance at the first four generations of my family surnames (Pizzillo, Miceli, DiNauta, D’Ippolito, Sedita, Benvenga, Lombardi, Garone). Both of my parents are 100 percent Italian. I’m a second-generation Italian American. I’ve grown up under the influence of Italians all my life. October is Italian Heritage Month in the United States. They exiled their royal family and became a republic. It commemorates the day in 1946 when Italians voted to do away with their monarchy. June 2 is a national holiday in Italy known as the Festival of the Republic (Festa della Repubblica). My wife has now conceded to being an Italophile. Why, America itself owes its very name to an Italian, Amerigo Vespucci. They often remind my wife-invited or not-how she is the continual beneficiary of Italians: fine clothes, food, entertainment, furniture, lifestyle. My children, although only 50 percent Italian, are fiercely loyal to and proud of their Italian heritage. Years ago someone coined these words: "Imitation is the greatest form of Flattery" I only ask them to read my future blogs and then to return to me the RIGHT to my essay.“Oh my goodness! It’s just a little sliver of a country! Where does all the nauseating Italian pride come from?!” my Anglo-Saxon wife of 30 years often expresses incredulously in our home. To those who took my words, thoughts and phrases (which MY BRAIN created) and used them to be their words, I hold no animosity. It is very similar to the 1978-1980 versions.as to facts, words and phrases (except that I moved them around a little) and added a new paragraph.bringing it to the 'first person'. When I was 95-years old, I wrote my last version after a Thanksgiving celebration in my apartment, and I marked it as the last version. I nearly fell-off of my chair, when Claire in 2006 told me it was on the Internet. When I lived in Toms River, N.J., I know for a fact, that my friends in Silver Ridge Park, as well as those in Holiday City, Crestwood Village, and several nearby communities, took my essay and made copies for their respective friends throughout the United States. Many paesan-friends, who had experienced all that I had were so delighted when they read my essay. My essay gave me much pleasure over the years, especially in the seventies and eighties. It was my first blog that resulted in my being named as the oldest blogger.and it was my first blog, unwittingly, caused reaction to my essay The Joy of Growing-up Italian. The validator is Eric Shackle.the renowned World Newsman, Journalist, Internet Investigator and Publisher - to whom I shall eternally be grateful. YES! I am 99 years old.and YES I am the author of "THE Joy of Growing-up Italian, which I wrote on an old manual typewriter in 1968.and yes, I am The Oldest Blogger on Earth until someone else older than me claims the title. I believe he is the proprietor of The John Pirelli Lodge in Dayton, Ohio. What a great show of appreciation! Several of you have also expressed a desire to know the author and John Pirelli is one of them. I want to thank each and everyone for doing so. For several weeks, I've been very busy surfing the internet, seeking those who have placed the essay "The Joy of Growing-up Italian" on the Internet as Author Anonymous.
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