May la Third.

In our family, this day is always called "May la third" because it's my cousin R's birthday, and when she was a baby, my grandmother taught her to say the third of May in Italian. The Italian words proved to be too hard for her, so the phrase got shortened and edited along the way to May la Third. Whenever my cousin R writes this date down, her pen will spill out May la 3rd each and every time.

Shortly before I called my cousin R this afternoon to wish her a Happy May la Third, the mailman came with a package from my cousin L. I knew the package was on its way, but I didn't know what all the contents were until I opened the box. There were some gifts in there for my January birthday-- delayed in mailing because L was sick with the flu, then she moved into her new apartment, then she was busy unpacking, then she got sick with a virus which lasted for weeks. Too many down-days got in the way of mailing out the package and I kept telling her not to worry, that I wasn't exactly thrilled about my latest birthday numbers anyway.

The package also held two surprises that were very nostalgic and made me reach for the box of tissues. The first is a tiny St. Theresa medal that my dad had given to my Aunt Edie (his sister, L's mother) as a birthday gift one year. In the 1960s, my dad bought just about everyone in the family a religious medal, mostly St. Theresa medals. They were all 14-karat gold, all very pretty and they meant the world to my dad because he carried a St. Theresa medal with him during World War II and he swears that medal of his brought him home.

My dad had given me a gold St. Theresa medal in 1961. Mine was the second one he bought, after replacing his tattered silver medal with a gold one identical to the one he gave me. I wore it every day for years and years and years. In the late 1980s, when the price of gold went through the roof and my life changed drastically and finances plummeted, I sold every piece of gold that I had in order to survive from paycheck to paycheck. Five years later, when my life was back to normal, I regretted selling that St. Theresa medal, and the gold scripted-name necklace that daddy had given me on my 16th birthday. I went so far as to check with the jeweler I had sold them to-- of course, they were no longer there, having been either re-sold or melted down.

So finding that little gold St. Theresa medal in the box from L this morning was a wonderful surprise. I have a very thin gold chain that fits the medal perfectly and even though this one isn't the one that daddy gave me in 1961, I'm thrilled to have it.... Aunt Edie has passed away now, and I was very touched that L would give me her mother's medal to keep for my own.

The other bit of nostalgia in the package was a photo album from my grandparents' 50th Wedding Anniversary, celebrated on Sept. 29, 1958. My grandparents had a large-sized album filled with professional photographs from their celebration, and each of their children received a smaller-sized album with photos of the family.

The first photo in this book shows my grandparents walking into the reception hall. They are holding hands, and Grandma is just half a step or so behind Grandpa. Grandma is wearing a full-length lace gown with elbow-length gloves, and Grandpa is in a black tuxedo. They knew about the party that had been planned for them, but judging by the expression on their faces, I don't think they knew how many family members and friends and neighbors would be there.

There is a photograph of my grandparents surrounded by all their children..... their four daughters to the right of Grandma, their three sons to the left of Grandpa. They had two other sons who had passed away years before that celebration, and there were two miscarried babies before they celebrated their 5th anniversary. (A very prolific Italian-Catholic family, which was about the norm when my grandparents got married in 1908.)

There is a photo of my cousins dancing, and behind them you can see my dad dancing with my mother. I'm sure that in the album that was given to my parents, there would have been more pictures of the two of them. I have no idea what happened to that album... lost or discarded along the way, just like their marriage, unfortunately.

In two of the other photographs, I can see myself with my parents. I was six years old that year, and I remember that dress so well because I just loved it.... silver lace over blue satin. I wore that same dress two months later when my mother's sister got married.... and then it became a Sunday-only dress until I out-grew it.

I called my cousin L today to tell her that I got the package, and to thank her not only for the birthday gifts but for the little St. Theresa medal and the album of photographs. I told her that I loved everything she sent me but would have been content with just the medal and the photos and she could have saved herself a lot of shopping. I asked L why our cousin R wasn't in any of the photographs and L said that she was probably running around the reception hall instead of "staying put" with the family. R was always a "butterfly in flight" as my grandmother used to call her (in Italian, of course), and Miss May la Third is still the same.

Looking through this album makes me both happy and sad. In 1958, everyone was content and smiling, young and healthy, everyone was together. Did it cross anyone's mind then that within the next fifteen years, divorces would fracture the family and forever change the dynamics of future gatherings and celebrations?

Probably not. On that day in September of 1958, five generations of a family gathered to celebrate 50 years of marriage for Angelina and Frank. Being just six years old, I didn't understand the significance of that... I was just thrilled with that silver lace dress and my new black patent-leather shoes.