Noni’s Welcome Cookies

Edward Mooney, Jr.

©2017 Edward Mooney, Jr.

January 31, 2017

Virginia Marino, "Noni".

Every summer it happened the same way.  It was our annual migration to the homeland; we returned to the land of the Boston Red Sox to spend time with my extended family. My father, sister and I were born in Massachusetts; my mother was from Rhode Island. I guess I could say that I grew up “bi-coastal.” When I came back from most of a summer in New England my California friends would tease me about how I would say “Bah-stun.”

The five of us (with my California-born brother) would arrive late at night after a flight from California. The adrenaline and excitement in Los Angeles dulled to what I now call a “happy drowsiness” by the time we landed in Boston. After a long drive to Rhode Island, I was downright exhausted.

We young ones typically fell asleep before we got a chance to wolf down many of Noni’s wonderful lemon cookies. I called them “Welcome Cookies.” They were always there, every time we arrived. I connected the cookies with her throwing her arms out and crying, “Welcome!” I can never forget being dazzled by all of the baked goods on the table before me, and all of the hugs I received. To me, heaven was on Providence Street in West Warwick.

The memory of every arrival at my Noni’s house is still blurred with sleepiness – and this went on for a number of summers. To this day I can only guess how I made it upstairs and into bed. It was not under my power.

The sunshine always woke me on my first full day “back east,” as we used to call it. It was always a morning late in June that I’d wake up in her bedroom, beginning my time of the year as a New Englander. As her oldest grandson, born on St. Joseph’s Day, she allowed me the honor of sleeping in the second bed in her upstairs room, the one with the grate above the kitchen.

My mother used to tell me that the grate allowed the heat from the kitchen to warm the upstairs in the cold, long Rhode Island winters.  She also told me the second bed used to belong to my late grandfather, and how much of an honor my Noni bestowed on me by letting me sleep there.

It was just a simple room, with wooden floors and walls. My Noni was like that.  She never really owned much, and she worked hard all of her life. She had simple values – but they were clear.  God, family, country.

A few photos adorned the walls, but on one June morning in 1963 three items on her dresser got my attention. In the center was a crucifix. On one side was a black and white photo, with two young people in it.  The right side was adorned with a small 48 star American flag in a wooden stand. Yes, I counted the stars. The pattern looked odd to me.

I was trying to gather enough strength to get up; I turned in time to watch my grandmother open the bedroom door, carrying something. She started quietly and gingerly, peeking around the edge of the door, but she ended her entrance more energetically as she noticed I was awake.

“So, my Eddie is awake!” She said with a broad smile. Noni pushed forward a small tray, covered with lemon cookies, marbled chocolate cookies, and more.

“Uh-huh…” I mumbled. Even that was an effort for a seven year old after travelling across the United States.

“Maybe a cookie to start your day?” She offered. I smiled.

“Oh, yeah. I love your ‘Welcome Cookies’!” I offered.

“Welcome cookies?” she asked, with a confused look.

“Every year I think about them on the airplane, and in the car from Boston. You always say ‘welcome’ when I see first them.” I grabbed one of the marbled chocolate cookies this time and took a large bite.

“I’m glad you like them,” she answered.

“Oh, yeah!” I turned and looked at the items on her dresser, especially the photograph.

“No talking with a mouthful…” she whispered. It was then that I knew where my mother got that idea. I swallowed.

“Sorry. Mom tells me that, too.”

“Then I taught her well!” Noni smiled.

“But she never told me about that picture. Who’s in it?” I pointed as I reached for a lemon cookie. Noni sat on the edge of the bed and sighed.

“I am. I’m the woman in the white dress. The man is your grandfather.” Her voice was almost at the level of a quiet whisper.

“You? Is it like a wedding picture?” I asked.

“No, it’s not ‘like’ a wedding picture. It is my wedding picture, my only one. Back then we had little money. It’s the only picture I have from my wedding.”

“You should have had a Polaroid camera! I saw one of those on TV!” I blurted. Noni smiled.

“We didn’t have such things almost fifty years ago, Eddie! Cameras then had a big box and a man with a cloth over his head!” She said with a quiet laugh.  I looked at her differently, and I’m sure it was with a confused expression.

“Cloth?” I asked. Noni stood up and walked over to the dresser. She picked up the wedding photo and looked at it for a long time.

“Cloth. Eduardo, my grandson, you must understand that things have changed so much since I was your age, since I came to this country. Like this flag. Now we have fifty stars.”

“You came here like how I came here from California?” I asked, naively. She laughed.

“First of all, you were born in Massachusetts, so you are returning. But it was not like what you did yesterday. Oh, no…”

“What was it like? Did you fly here with your mom and dad, and your sisters?”

“Oh, my, my, no, no. There was no way to do that back then. I came here on a boat, across the Atlantic Ocean. Have you seen the place called Italy on the map?” She asked. I nodded.

“Yeah – it looks like a boot. Does it really look like that?”

“Well, maybe if you were up high in an airplane, it would, but from a boat it looks like mountains, towns and roads…” Her voice trailed off. An unpleasant silence filled the room. In my heart, I felt that she was remembering her mother and father.

“Did you go back and see your mom, and grandmother?” I asked. Just then I noticed a tear moving down her cheek.  She opened her mouth, paused, and closed it again. I waited.

“No. Since I left I have not seen them.” I noticed her voice was trembling.

“I’m sorry.”

“You are a wise young boy. How could you have known that I was trying to remember their faces – my mother and father?”

“I just guessed. I didn’t want to make you cry…” I said very quietly. Nonie reached out and stroked my hair.

“No, it’s alright, Eduardo. It’s just, well, it was so hard to come to America. I was only a teenage girl, not much older than you are now.”

“You came here alone?”

“I had my sister. But my parents stayed behind.” She answered as I took another bite of my cookie. Just then a piece broke off and tumbled on to the bedspread.

“Oh, I’m sorry…” I said as I gathered the pieces.

“And there were no ‘welcome cookies’ when I arrived at Ellis Island, either.”

“Ellis Island?”

“Yes, in New York. We immigrants first landed there. You know about the Statue of Liberty?”

“Oh, yes, we read about it in history.”

“That was my first view of America.” Noni sat back on the bed.

“Wow!” I exclaimed. Noni looked out of the window.

“She is still my favorite part of America.” She said in a very serious tone.

“So there were no cookies?”

“Oh, no. They fed us some soup-like food and hard bread. I don’t know what those things were called. They did not taste very good. The bread was hard. First they put a tag on my coat, and I only had one suitcase. They put a tag on that, too. Then they gave us some food. We had no choices. Eddie, you carry with you this week more than everything I had back then.”

“Really? That would be hard. I really need my shirts and my comic books!” I said as Noni’s smile grew.

“Oh, my. Yes, you would have had a hard time without your ‘Superman’!” She laughed.

“Did you have any toys?” I asked, afraid to hear her answer.

“One, a small doll.” Noni leaned over and pulled a very small item from a drawer. It was a simple doll, and it looked well loved. Noni started straightening the doll’s hair.

“I spoke very little English then. I could say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘yes’ and ‘no’. Not much else.” Noni put her thumb to her mouth, wet it, and rubbed at a spot on the doll’s arm.

“I understand.” I stared at the doll.

“My whole life changed when I came here. I was so scared. People in uniforms were looking at my papers. Other people looked into my throat, and checked my eyes.” Noni gently placed the doll back into the drawer.

“What?”

“They checked to see if we were healthy. I remember shaking so hard that I dropped some papers at one point.” I noticed Noni’s Italian accent got thicker.

“What happened?”

“Someone was yelling at me in English and I could not understand him. I found out, later, that he was yelling at me about how I did not understand English. It scared me because I had so much to learn.”

“What did you do?”

“I looked out the window at the statue, and I thought she was smiling at me. Lady Liberty. Yes, I know that is crazy, maybe, but it helped. And I touched my crucifix, believing that God would see me through the fear.”

“Oh…” I said, softly.

“And God did get me through. And you are a remembrance that God took care of me.”

“Me? How did I do that?”

“Where I came from, March 19^th is an important day, the feast day of my favorite saint.”

“Because of my birthday? I don’t get it.”

“The first March 19^th after I came to America I went to Mass and promised God that I would not forget what He did for me. It is Saint Joseph’s Day. He always sends me a blessing on that day.” Noni smiled as she looked at me.

“I guess that’s why I have Joseph as my second middle name.”

“Well, I wanted you to have that as your first name, but your father decided differently. But you have Joseph in there, and that is good.” Noni sighed. I felt like this bothered her.

“Wow. I could have been ‘Joseph’…”

“Never forget what your birthday means to me. Right after that I met the man who would become your grandfather. I thanked St. Joseph for him. Then you were born, many years later. I believe God was reminding me that He has done much for me. I lived long enough to see a grandson.” She nodded at me.

“Then you married my grandfather?” I pointed at the photograph.

“Oh, well, that was some time later. I had much to learn. Life was hard before your grandfather and I married. I learned English because I had to, and it was hard. I was always afraid. People told me to go back from where I came…” I interrupted her.

“What?”

“I learned that some people don’t like you if you have an accent, or go to a different church.”

“That’s sad.”

“I believe it is. So, some wanted me to go back to Italy.”

“I’m glad you didn’t!” Noni smiled and touched my arm.

“I remember once asking my cousin what a ‘dago’ was. People kept calling me that.”

“What’s a ‘dago’?” I asked.

“It’s a rude word that some people call Italians.”

“People called you names? Like kids in school do?”

“Yes. Your mother, who was born here, did not learn English until she went to school. They said terrible things about her.”

“My mom? Really? I am so sorry.” I said. Noni nodded. I took a last bite of the “Welcome Cookie.”

“Oh, nothing to be sorry about. I am happy that because your mother and I went through all of that pain you have a nice home, toys to play with, and you can go to school.” Noni gently slapped my knee. She stood up and walked toward the bedroom door.

“Noni?” I asked.

“Yes?” She answered as she walked through the doorway. She paused and looked back.

“I wish you could have had some ‘Welcome Cookies’ back then…”

“I have something much better now!”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“You…” She pointed as she turned and walked down the hall.

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THE END