A pause from cooking: Nana

Much of what I write here will be about cooking, but not all of it. Occasionally, I'll post a piece about someone who is important in my life.
My grandmother died ten years ago, but I didn't say she WAS important in my life. She IS important in my my life, even today.
What follows is a piece that I originally wrote as an exercise for my Italian teacher, in Italian. Writing in a foreign language seems to loosen ideas that I would never put to pen in English. So, here it is. Nana is the person who taught me how to cook, as well as so many other things. You get a little bit of what she was like here. I will always miss her.




I've lived in NY all of my life. I've visited many neighborhoods, and sometimes I've not returned to a neighborhood for many years. Last week, I revisited a neighborhood, and remembered many things from the past.
A new friend had telphoned me and asked if I wanted to meet for a glass of wine after work. The bar is at 47th street and 9th avenue. I work at 53rd Street and 5th avenue, so I walked to the bar after work.
47th street is a very interesting street. From 5th to 7th avenue, it's a business neighborhood, and from 7th to 8th, it's a tourist street. But the street changes when you walk west. The street becomes beautiful, with small houses and pretty gardens. It's peaceful: an old, but proud neighborhood. When I was young, things were different.
There's an old church in the neighborhood, "Holy Cross" church. My grandmother and I went to this church every Monday evening, because as my grandmother said there was a "very powerful novena going on there." The people who lived there were very poor, but very religious. Every Monday, the chruch was full. We sang, we prayed, and when Nana and I returned home, she always bought me a pineapple soda. We went by train. Many years ago, you could buy drinks, sandwiches, and so forth while you waited for the train. I thought about that soda all week. Probably, it was terrible, but when I had the paper cup, full of soda, in my hand, I was a grown up.
I remember all the stores. There was a fish monger, named Pasquale. Pasquale had met my Nana when she was a girl. Sometimes, Nana would say "Ah, Norman, Pasquale was SO handsome. I should have married him." I remember that I would ask her "but Nana, I thought that you loved grandpa." Nana would make a big smile when she answered, "Norman, you will learn, one day, that you can love someone, but still dream." Then her face would change. ENOUGH! We have to go back home. Let's go!
Across the street from the church, there was a toy store. Once every month Nana and I would go there, because I had my allowance. It wasn't a lot - but I could buy myself something! Nana was very patient, because I would think for a long time, before I picked something.
Our neighborhood was in Queens, on the other side of the river. It's difficult to explain, but if you lived in Queens, Manhattan was "THE CITY." A trip to Manhattan was a special event. My mother never went to Manhattan, and all of my friends remained in Queens. But every Monday, I became a man, around 5o'clock, when Nana said "Norman, are you wearing clean socks? St. Mary doesn't like smelly feet." My answer was always "Yes Nana. The blue ones. Our lady's favorite color."
Today, I don't go to novenas, and I don't wear blue socks anymore, but I remember the prayers, the songs, and especially, all the people in the church.
After I left the bar and said goodbye to my new friend, I tried to go into the church. It wasn't possible. The door was locked. Today, this is normal, but I remember a time when, if all were closed, "our Mother, the church" was open. Things change.
My new friend is another story, and I know that if I told Nana "I'm sorry, but I couldn't go to church because it was more important to meet my friend," Nana would say "but Norman, you DID go to church. Church is everywhere. Only ignorant people believe that a church is a building with statues, prayer books, and pews. " She would point to her heart with a finger. "Church is here. Always remember that, Norman."
One day, I'll go back to Holy Cross church, and I'll think of Nana and the days I dreamt that, one day, I would live in Manhattan, like the sophisticated people did.