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I was born April 3, 1923, in Bolzano, Italy. I am the daughter of an Italian mother and an Italianized German father. My brother and I were just merely young children who adore playing in the grape fields, picking grapes and eating them just for the fun of it. I never have forgotten the taste of the grapes. They were always sweet, filled with juice that would run down my mouth as I bit into them. My family didn’t have much other than a small plot of land where we grew grapes for wine. And when the night was pleasant, my father would take my brother and I to go see the stars; always to make a wish or list the constellations that were present. During this time, Mussolini started to come into power, nonetheless, life was good. Or so I thought. My life has always been in secrets. I was told that I was lucky to look Italian, whatever that meant, I see no difference. In the mornings, I would attend an Italian school, but come dusk, I would attend a Katakombenschulen, or a catacombs school that were illegal to have. My father was against us learning German because this puts us at a higher risk of trouble. You see, one could only speak Italian, as all other languages were banned. But my mother thought it best to have her children embrace the German heritage and bridge it with our Italian half. My father was deeply moved that his wife was risking to preserve the culture and decided to teach us how to write it, for speaking was too risky. Intead, we only just whispered it in the dead of the night while the world slept. Thank God we were never caught by any blackshirts or prying ears of civilians.I thought my life would be okay now. I was handling secrecy pretty well and continued with my life as I normally would. But, one day, I noticed my mother clearly sad. She would reassure me that everything was fine and to not worry about it, just go and play outside. I saw my father expressing the same emotion and just comforted me. My brother saw my distress and I remembered that he hugged. In that hug, I could feel a longing, a desperation that ensured everything will be okay.1933 was a time where stress was high. For my 10th birthday, I didn’t ask for much other than just a night under the stars. Despite the simple wish of watching the stars. My family gifted me a small wooden green lion. It was the best gift I had ever gotten. A night under stars with my wonderful family and a little green lion. At 10 years old, I knew my life was changing once again. Mussolini was still in power and Hitler was gaining political power as well. The atmosphere in my town was thick, suffocating. I no longer felt safe. Everywhere I went was a call of how I needed to grow strong and produce children for the good of Italy. My brother would also hold my hand tight as we walked from school. And I would hear the pressuring remarks of my brother to keep on growing to hopefully produce strong sons. He was only 15. Every day that passed made my family become more on edge. But regardless, I still thought everything was okay. Until one day…My mother was on the verge of tears, begging my father. She said, “Samuel, you do not need to do this! Please reconsider and leave with us.”My father with tears in his eyes just hugged my mother and said, “Coleen, I know this is hard, but trust me, it is no longer safe for you or our daughter. The death of Matteotti is still a vivid reminder of what I am to be fighting for. Matthew has agreed to come with me. There is no convincing that boy. But please, do this for your safety. We will be leaving in the middle of the night. I suggest you do as well.”I heard my mother cry even harder as she tried to form coherent words, but I left on a mission to search for Matt to ask where he was going. Counting the last earnings of the grapes sold, I just struck up conversation, “So, where is it you are going?”Upon hearing me speak, Matt stopped counting the coins and gazed at me sadly, and he hugged me. “Dad will explain,” as his voice choked up.Hearing him sound so sad, a pit in my stomach grew. The already heavy atmosphere seemed to choke me even more, but I tried to maintain face and instead told Matt I would help him count his coins. I could tell he was grateful for the distraction.As nightfall was nearing, I heard things being moved and my mother gently begging my father once more to stay. I didn’t understand what this meant. Where is he going? Why was Matt going with him? I just played with my little green lion and pretended it flew in the air until I heard my father call me name to the living space.“Katia,” he started, “I am sure you are aware of the unrest going around. I have decided that I will be fighting for what is right. Your brother has decided to join in on the fight with me.”“Papa? I don’t understand. What fight is there? Can I help? Why does it look as if you are leaving?” so many questions went through my mind. Sure I knew something was amiss. I sensed something big was brewing in the horizon, but it doesn’t mean papa has to leave, right?Sensing my panic arising, my father just hugged my tight and spoke German into my ear. “Katia, this place is becoming dangerous. What I will be doing, it will put you and your mother in great danger. I can’t risk that. So in a few hours, we will all be leaving.”I started to cry. My father can’t be leaving! “What about Matt? Is- Is he leaving too?”Before my father could reply, Matt spoke in his place. “Kati, I made this decision to stay behind and fight for what I believe is right. Look at it as if your big brother is fighting to make Italia a better and safer place for you.”I looked at my mother and I saw her silently crying. I was lost. Confused. I thought we were doing okay but it wasn’t so. Three hours later, I hugged my father and my brother one last time. I watched them step out the door and leave all without a trace. My mother tried to comfort me as I cried once again. As I tried my best to calm down, I was prompted to pack what little I could take, making sure I took my little green lion with me. In the dead of the night, with all the money my mother was given and the little clothing we could take, we left. Looking one last time at my home, I whispered to the heavens, “Papa, Matt, remember me as you look to the stars.” And I was gone.I boarded a boat for the first time in my life. It was crowded and so loud. My mama looked very weary and she finally fell asleep. And I did too, grasping my lion and snuggling up to my mother. I slipped into a dreamless sleep as I thought about my destination. I never knew where we were going and I wouldn’t find out until a week later upon arrival.When I was finally awoke from the boat, I decided to go up on deck and count the things I saw. Feeling a gentle touch to my shoulder, I looked behind me to my mother as I saw her face fill with relief. In the distance not to far off, I saw a statue of a green lady, and I knew I have arrived to a brand new start to my life. I finally got off the boat to which I then had to go through customs in Ellis Island. We were almost rejected, due to us looking like we had some eye infection, when in reality we were just crying. Looking up to the sun, I gave it a praise and I let the soft breeze take my words, “Papa, Matt, we made it.”
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As soon as I arrived, we travelled to this state called New York. We stayed for five years until California started to sound even more enticing. During my stay here in States, I have picked up the english language. I continued to speak Italian and practiced my German because I was free to do as I wish, and I did as I wished. During my stay here in the states, my name became Americanized. I was told that Katia or Kati was too, how should I say, foreign? I really do not understand why my name was so weird to say or write. In all honesty, I think Pam is a very weird name. So is Joe. The shorten version of my name is just one letter away from those three letter names. When I said both of my names, the teacher spelled it on the chalkboard as Katie. Because apparently her sister's young niece was named as Katie and it was almost the same as Katia or Kati. Americans can be very weird. The children and pretty much everyone had started to call me Katie and in the end. Every day, I would always tell my mother about my day. I would speak it in both Italian and in German. After about a year or so, my mother also started learning to speak english but she sees no rush in immediately learning it. She thinks that the problems in Italy would soon blow over and she could be reunited with her husband and her beloved son once again. Mama would always speak with such a cheer of that impending day. I always smile so brightly when Mama speaks. It is such a change compared to her sullen, depressed state. I cannot wait for us all to be reunited once again. Mama, Papa, Matt and I will once again be under the same sky, watching the stars and hear my father with his new adventures. Going up to my room, I peered at the darkening sky and smiled softly at my green lion. "One day... We will all be reunited." And I turned my back on the sky as I ready for bed to start a new day.
At the end of 1938, we moved to California. It was honestly has been the best option so far. North Beach has rich Italian roots and it honestly makes me feel very homesick. It took me a week to adjust myself in my new setting. America, so far, has given us so much more than Italy ever could. I know that we do not have Papa and Matt with us, but I can only hope and pray that they are safe. Mama has her worries, but I think she has her relief still. Here in North Beach, we were able to open our little floral shop. This helps my mother take away the sadness she has. To make her smile even more, each day has a new set of flowers that I always set up at the front desk, along with my little green lion. Our customers loved my little displays. And I always adored seeing lovey dovey couples or wonderful new people come and buy our flowers. Our main Our main customers would be Italian shopkeepers or restaurant owners who come in to have fresh flowers decorate their shops or centerpieces of their tables. Every now and then, we would get naturalized Italian customers who would ask us if we already became citizens. Our answer would always be no. Honestly, my mother and I didn’t see any reason to get it. Life was good here. Everything felt relaxed and calm. There was no need to rush for citizenship. Eventually, this mistake was going to be regretted.
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1939 became another brand new year for me. I was still attending school, english was coming to me second handedly, and I saved up enough money to buy a bike to go and explore around San Francisco. I have always wanted to go see the new bridge everyone was talking about. I have heard it was a tremendous feat for our time. On my day off of school, I bid my mother goodbye and left. Yeah, I did get lost, but it was so worth it. I saw so many cool things and I absolutely loved the sea breeze whipping my hair around. After biking for so long, I finally managed to get to the base of the Golden Gate Bridge. My breath was taken away by the majestic beauty standing before me. Its ingenuity was simply stunning. Taking more steps, and being completely unaware of my surroundings, I tripped on someone. “I’m so sorry!” I said, dusting off the sand on my clothes. And I kid you not. The young man who I tripped on was just as breathtaking as well, not that I would admit.
“It’s alright,” he told me as he flashed me a smile. Picking himself up, he dusted himself off and proceeded to apologize for being in the way.
“No! Please, it was not your fault. I was too busy admiring the bridge and I didn’t see you there!” I was so ashamed. I honestly thought that I ruined his reading, but he was quick to reassure me there was no harm. From that moment on, we struck up a friendship that soon turned into a relationship, all within the span of eight months. I during that time, I have some to learn that the young man was known as Shiro and he was a third generation Japanese-American citizen. He was so sweet and so shy. I was the one to ask him out because I like to always take chances. Despite being two years older than I, he graciously accepted. He was always so gentle with me. Simply kisses on the cheek or holding hands always made him blush, and I absolutely loved it. My mother took a liking to him as well.
We both exchanged many stories. I told him about my family and how my brother and father are fighting for a just cause, kind of like a rebellion. I also told him about my life in Italy. I showed him my favorite gift, the little green lion. But my most favorite thing I have shared with Shiro was the knowledge my father told me about the stars. I shared all about the constellations and the lunar cycles. Shiro always keeping up with my speech and nodding along when I switched to German or Italian. Then when it came to his turn, Shiro would tell me of his adventures in school and all his amazing knowledge of marine life. He would sometimes teach me some Japanese and I would teach him a word or two in Italian or German. Lots of laughs and giggles would be shared over my dinner table as my mother looked at the both of us in delight. I truly did feel like this was a new beginning and my life was truly for the better. Or so I thought.
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With the help of Shiro, we were able to get a little radio for my mother. It was a gift to help her cheer her up, as it picked up radio waves from overseas to play the wonderful Italian music. It was abruptly interrupted to bring us the shocking news of the German invasion of Poland. My mother turned pale upon hearing this. An invasion in was happening in Europe. I had to stop preening the flowers to go comfort my mother before she went into an anxiety attack. Days passed and everything was changing once again. My mother tried to maintain face. Truly admiring. I know she is dealing with so much stress. I just hope I can be strong for Mama.
Shiro is being very helpful in running our shop with me. Each day that passes, it seems as if my mother is wilting. I really do try to make her happy. I make sure she does not do too much work. I can tell she feels bad for leaving a lot on my shoulders, but I am okay. I have my mother and Shiro as my rock. I just pray I can make my exams for this upcoming term. I am halfway done with school. I am just glad. Soon, Shiro and I will be able to work in our professions and make a better life for ourselves. I am very proud of him. He is on his last year of high school and is already being recruited to various top- notch universities. Although, he did say he wanted to stay here because, and I quote, “the view is very nice here. I mean, the ocean and the bay area is nice too.” Nerd said I was the best view he has ever seen. I am truly in love.
School was just like any other day, but come lunchtime, trouble started to brew. You see, ever since Germany has gone to war, some of my friends have stopped hanging out with me. There is one girl who seemed hellbent in making my academic life impossible. She would always call me so many names. The common ones she loves to call me were Nazi or Hitler. I have never been so insulted in my life! With her, I was never addressed as Katie, Katia, or any of my other names she knew me by, it was always one of those derogatory terms. Lunchtime finally rolls over, and I was just sitting by myself, in a secluded area to wait for Shiro, and up comes this nitwit, I mean Susan, and just opens her wretched mouth.
“Hallo Nazi,” over emphasizing the H as if she were about to choke (God I wish she did), “Today ist good. But now it is ruined due to your hideous presence. Move, you have
invaded
my table, loser.”
I was trying so hard not to lose my cool, but I stood up, walked up to her, and responded because I need to show the good example of my catholic faith. “Oh hello Susan, I see you have decided to mask your stench today, I did not smell you coming near.” Oh how I got her. I saw it in her eyes, that cold glare she mustered and then, out nowhere, a hand flew to my face.
I found myself on the ground as a stinging pain decorated my left cheek. I held back my tears. I did not want to give her the satisfaction of her seeing me cry, I would not let her see me as the most vulnerable. What I did next, I gave her cheek a good whack. I know the good Lord said to turn the other cheek, but I felt compelled to not continue under these circumstances where I am labeled something I am not.
After seeing her tears, I felt a small sense of guilt, but I justified myself that she deserved it. I probably shouldn’t have gone to that extent, but like that American saying, “An eye for an eye.” I guess it worked, she picked herself and left without a word. As I returned to my table, I saw my lunch was ransacked. My sandwich was bitten into and my dessert was gone. I just slumped myself down. I finally left hot tears leave me. I felt the rest of my day ruined. I suddenly felt a gentle touch on my shoulder and I turned to see my beloved boyfriend.
As soon as he saw my face, his eyes widened. “Katie! What happened?!” He cupped my face as he gently ran his fingers across the angry welt that formed on my left cheek. “Who did this? Tell me!”
I just shook my head. “Shiro, do not trouble yourself. It’s merely a welt. It will go down sooner or later.” I tried to smile through the tears, “I’m just depressed that my dessert was taken. I was planning to share that with you.” And dear Shiro gave me a gentle peck.
After school, Shiro waited for me by the school entrance. He shyly held out his hand for me to grab onto. He took me out to get some ice cream to replace my stolen dessert, and we went to the place we met, the Golden Gate Bridge. The bridge still has never ceased to amaze me.
“You know, this bridge is an amazing feat and the ocean has a beautiful sparkly to it, but honestly, my girlfriend makes this place even more serene and peaceful. I think she is more beautiful and amazing than the bridge and ocean combined.”
“Oh really?” I laughed, “I wish to meet this woman who seems to hold your heart.”
“Well, her name is Katie, and she is an amazing girlfriend who is intelligent and just wonderful,” he said as he looked up to the sky. Then he looked at me with his beautiful smile and leaned in.
I just shoved my ice cream in his face as he let out a shocked expression. He chased me down along the shore and tackled me. I was so caught up in the moment, that I just leaned in for a kiss as a wave crashed over us. Cheesy, I know, but in that moment, I forgot that my school clothes were ruined, the my lunch was ruined, my ice cream laid on the sandy shore all forgotten, and the unease and tension from earlier gave way into bliss.
Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. The German invasion has gone full scale. It became the main trending topic that everyone is talking about. Business has not slowed down, but it is not that great either. We have had some Americans come and threaten to shut us down because my mother is “housing a Nazi”. My mother would come to my defense and drive them out. After that, we were placed on close watch. My poor mother was even more put down than before. I tried to be strong. I really did. There were times where I would come home with hidden bruises because I would be shoved down the stairs. And she would always catch them. I did not know how she could easily see the hidden bruises. But I always reassured her that everything was alright. She has gone to talk with the principal of the school, but with her broken English, she was not always understood. I tried to interpret, but they would not take my word for it. They believed that I was making it up. How? I have no clue. I just told my mom to leave it as it is. There is no point in wasting her very own breath on those who do not wish to listen.
Everyday, I noticed the weary glares and malice the people held towards me, or anyone who was discovered to be German. I would keep to myself, I spoke English only in public, and saved the German at home. But I still felt like it was not enough. My mother was feeling even more so depressed and I felt useless in not being able to do a single thing to cheer her up. I could see she was trying to be at her strongest. She really did try, but I could still see her cracks and vulnerability.
As I came home from school, my mother made me take a seat. “Katia,” my mother faltered, “I… I prohibit you from speaking German. Do not mention anything to no one of your ethnicity. Keep it hidden for now.”
I was appalled, to hide a part of me? The very part that connected me with my very own father?! How absurd! “But mama! How could you prohibit such a thing? You did not express the same thought in It-” I was silenced.
“No! It’s not. Okay Kati? This may not be Italy, but it is starting to become like it. I see the hatred look in the people’s eyes when you speak German. I notice the bruises you try to hide. And it pains me, as your mother, that there is not a thing I can do. Back in Italy, yes, there were threats, but you nor Matt got hurt. We were all able to blend in with our community, do things in secrecy. Even Mussolini and his men were not able to reach us in the hidden. Here, here I feel like a fish out of water. We have no connections to any one. Yes, we are in a little Italian community, but it’s every man for himself here. This place is turning into Italy and I fear it is becoming worse than Italy. Please, my dear, promise me you will not speak or mention you are German. Keep silent and watch yourself.”
I finally saw my mother break down in tears as she held onto me tight.“Okay mama,” I uttered and hugged her back.
Things were becoming secret again. For months, I endured looks of hatred at my school, all because they knew I was half German. No longer was I the proud German-Italian, Katia, I was just Katie, a girl with an english given name and a missing half identity. I started to make my German half non-existent to strangers out on the streets of San Francisco. I knew it was not me who started a war, but for people to associate me with something that I have no part with made me all the more depressed. I’ve seen the looks Shiro and I were given. The venomous whispers of my boyfriend deserving someone better than just a conniving snake. It hurt. Those words hurt. It reminded me of the comments I would receive back in Italy. I was a seen as a mutt. A breed no one wanted. But at the same time, I was told that my Italian half had saved me some grace and I better get with an Italian man to produce strong sons for the glory of Italy, or in this case, Mussolini’s plan. Honestly, Shiro did not deserve the hate I was bringing on. No, he deserves so much better. And it hurt at the thought that I would have to leave him.
“Shiro, I don’t understand. I cannot see the logic in you wanting to stay with me,” I cried. “Do you not see the mean looks they send you, us? The mean, rude things they utter between their breaths? It is as if I was one ruining your sanctity or reputation!”
Cupping and caressing my cheek, he made me look into his beautiful dark eyes as he admired mine, “You have been the best thing that has happened to me. I would not leave you even for the life of me. Listen,” he whispered, “you were my sign to stay here. That day on the beach as I was reading, I was also contemplating whether to leave San Francisco and move elsewhere. I was hoping for a sign, and ever since you tripped on me, I took it as a sign to stay. You were my new beginning and I will be damned,” bringing me closer, “ if I left you just because we get thrown mean old look or heard useless mutterings. I love you for who you are and nothing is going to change that. Not even the half that you seem to disassociate from.” And he gave me a chaste kiss, I became such a blushing mess. I saw him looking at me smugly, bastard. Regardless, I shyly kissed back. And in that kiss, I honestly believed that he was my intended. Hugging him tightly, I looked to the heavens and let a small tear fall from my eye, ‘Papa, Matt, I cannot wait for you to meet Shiro one day.’
I was truly in love with this man and I knew he was in love with me. But I felt something on the horizon has yet to come and I could not help but feel that monstrous waves will soon attempt to destroy our relationship.