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Italian contributions to the world are unrivaled. Many have tried to emulate Italian Architecture, Art, Cuisine, Culture, Fashion, Literature, Music and Science. Few have been able to come close, and even the ones that have never seem to be able to do so with the flair, style and grace that Italians bring to the table. We not only have Dante “il sommo poeta”, we also hold dear to our hearts “The Three Fountains of Eloquence” They are Dante, Boccaccio and Petrarch.We delight in our past accomplishments and use those standards of excellence as a basis for all we do. This site will be designed to generate enthusiasm for our Culture among young and  old,  encourage those  organizations that uphold the very best of Italian traditions, and  simply have fun! 

My mother, Rita Borsa, was born May 4, 1922 in South Philadelphia Pennsylvania.She was the seventh child born to Berardino Borsa (1873) and Maria Pace Macari (1879). There is no doubt that she came as quite a surprise, as the next youngest in line was a full 10 years her elder. Berardino and Maria had both passed away by the time my mom was 11. My Aunts and Uncles raised my mother from that point forward. Their names are Celesta (1898), Joseph (1900), Rudolfo (1903), Victoria (1906), Elvira (1909) and Anthony (1912.)

The thrill is undeniable when we discover a new branch of our family tree, but for me it’s always been more than statistics, names and dates. The passion for this project also relates to a fascination of what life was like during the different and often difficult time periods. Our ancestors struggled to ensure that their children ended up with a better life. They felt love, fear, ambition, confidence, happiness, doubt and a host of other emotions that we tend to forget about long after someone has passed away. The true beauty of our passion is that we tie the generations together and bring life back to their stories, which is becoming more important as our modernized and hyper transient world is forcing more families apart.

One of the most enjoyable and fulfilling aspects of this pursuit is getting to the heart of the family stories that have been passed down. I often heard tales growing up that some of my Uncles had a horse drawn cart and that they used to sell ice cream in places such as Key West and Columbus Georgia. They were successful, and were finally able to upgrade to a motorized vehicle. My Uncle Tony told me that my Grandmother used to work in a saloon. My mother hit the roof when she heard that and said to me WHOOOOO EVERRRR TOLD YOU THAT! When I told her that it was her brother Tony, there was dead silence over the phone. How can a person find out if their Grandparents emigration to America was paid for as a wedding present? These types of mysteries peaked my curiosity and I was determined to find out what was true, and what was simply a good story.

As it turns out, I now have documentation and pictures showing my Uncles selling ice cream in a horse drawn cart, and later pictures showing off the vehicle. I have found out that My Grandparents were part owners in a bar with the Ronciglione’s in South Philadelphia , so it wouldn’t be unusual in my mind for my Grandmother to occasionally help out when needed. Some people, like my Uncle Tony, would call a bar a saloon. The big surprise came when I was looking at my Grandparents Ellis Island record. It actually states that the voyage was “Paid by Marriage.”       

As I stroll along the streets in South Philadelphia where many of my relatives lived, I am now armed with some details of their lives. In some crazy way it is easy for me to envision them walking beside me. If you suspend for a moment your own family bias and were to take a walk with me in these old and historic neighborhoods I could point out to you a home on South 13^th Street. It is here that my mother and at least 3 cousins were born, it is here that my cousin Perry would accompany my Grandmother to the Italian Market to help her with the days groceries, it is here that my Grandmother died, it is here where wine was made, it is here where my Uncle Joe left from and came back to after WW1, Citizenship Papers were discussed and we can’t forget the fear in the children growing up in that neighborhood of the abandoned “haunted” building across the street.

Only a half block away is where my Aunt Celesta and her husband Antonio had their grocery store. They, along with sisters and brothers, children and cousins all had responsibilities for ensuring the store was a success. Everyone was involved in the sales, cleaning, maintenance and cooking. My cousin Emma, always one of the most social people in our family, loved to work at the store. The close proximity of the licorice factory, which accounted for many of the stores customers, gave Emma many opportunities to practice her verbal skills. My mom, when only 12 years old, would be cooking eggs and peppers in preparation for the breakfast crowd, go to school and than come back to the store to do some additional cooking and cleaning. Celesta and Antonio’s sons Ben and Perry were also instrumental in the operations, although I have heard from a few relatives that Perry was never anywhere to be found when it came to washing dishes.

If we go just a few blocks over to S.10^th we would come across the first home of Benedetto Marsella and his wife Maria Antonia. This is the home that my Grandparents went to when they first immigrated to America in 1898. They were met at the boat by Berardino’s Uncle, Francesco. Francesco was not only a border at the Marsella’s house, but was also married to Benedetto’s sister, Filomena. Benedetto’s son Domenico married my Aunt Victoria. In 1908 the Marsella family bought a home on S. 9^th street, just a few blocks away from the Italian market. This is a house with memories.

My Grandmothers Uncle, Donato Macari, lived on Salter Street, just a stones throw from Benedetto’s first house. Donato was perhaps the first patriarch of our family in America.He and his wife Luigea arrived in Philadelphia in 1894. It is easy to imagine this house brimming over with activity. The records that I have been able to acquire show a constant stream of people over a period of many years stating that Donato is either their Uncle, Cousin, Brother in Law or friend. Donato and Luigea’s house on Salter Street would be their first stop in America. I can picture Luigea yelling, Donaaaato! It’s another relative at the door! The names and stories of the many people who lived and visited there are now etched in my mind every time I pass by what is now an empty lot.

Each Street that I pass not only brings back the names and history of the Borsa, Macari, Marsella, Ronciglione, Pandoli, Bonatucci, Papa, Aprile and Tadie families, it also brings back a sense of some of our traditions. The simple joys of satisfying our family’s notorious “sweet tooth” at Isgro’s bakery on Christian Street, strolling the Italian Market as my Grandmother and cousin Perry did over 80 years ago to select wonderful cheeses, breads and traditional Italian deli meats, stopping by the churches where many of our relatives were baptized, married and given final services, the schools they attended and no meat on Fridays.

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