VINCENZO CAROZZA

by Carla E Carozza (daughter)
 
My father was born in Palena, Italy on September 8, 1927. Palena is a small town located in the Provence of Chieti in the Abruzzo region of Italy. Palena is a very picturesque mountain town located 2,300 above sea level where archeological remains date back 40,000 years. Palena is located in the Maielle mountain range, a string of dome-shaped masses which are part of the austere Appenine mountains. The Abruzzo of today is still mostly unspoiled and authentic.
 
With that said, we grew up hearing a lot of stories from my Dad about Palena and we never stopped hearing them and now how I miss those stories as only he could tell them. You know, he had to walk at least 5 miles into town to attend school in a 12th century castle. He was the eldest of 9 children (3 prior to him deceased), 
he grew up with little and had to work hard along with his brothers and sisters to help his family and put food on the table.  How I enjoy just sitting alone and remembering all the stories he shared, although I have never been to Palena I could honestly go there and find my way around he was that detailed with his stories.
 
The war came and life changed, a lot of sadness and much suffering it affected all of them. He found his way to Venezuela and was a painter, he spent 7 1/2 years there. He came to the US thru Miami to NY in August of 1957, 7 months later my Mom and he were married (both my parents families are from Palena).  My parents were married 45 years - 11 days. :(

Vince & Mary Carozza

My Dad loved to travel, to cook great food (a self taught Chef), to be surrounded by his family and he loved life. He spent his last 10 years working at the Phoenician Resort in Scottsdale, Arizona a job he truly loved going to every day. He shared stories with his co-workers (a lot of the stories we heard growing up) and he was just someone you enjoyed being around, his personality was very infectious.
 
Vincenzo told the most simplest but funniest jokes ever, still my cousins will go around telling his jokes and we still crack up, one of my favorite.....this young girl was walking down the street and she had a mini skirt on and a Indian was walking behind her and he kept saying, chance? chance? chance? and she finally turned around and said why are you saying Chance?, Indians say HOW and he replied me know HOW give me Chance......hahahahhahahahaha it still cracks me up. 
 
On today Father's Day I dedicate this story to you Dad, thanks for the memories and for all the stories and of course the jokes. You are so missed!
 
Ciao.

Why we are not as tough as our parents

It's starting to heat up here in Arizona. We've had a pretty nice spring so far, and the triple-digit temperatures are just starting to kick in for good. The desert is a great place to live while the rest of the world is holed in, waiting for the thaw. But come summertime, you wish you were someplace else. 

And if you're one of those folks with the phrase, "Yeah, but it's a DRY heat" rolling around in your head, just let me tell you, when you've gone through four months of high temps, and it's still 112〫in October, you are DONE with that heat, dry or not. 

Phoenix in February = Good.

Phoenix in August = Oven.

So as we gear up for another heater, and eastern Arizona is undergoing one of its worst forest fires in history, it's almost refreshing for me to read this story from my mom, about how my grandparents had to make it through the icy northern winters. I'm just thankful we don't have to deal with frostbite on our daily commute. 

~Heidi

by Nancy Hallock

1.   Our mother grew up in western North Dakota, almost on the Canadian border.  Houses were not insulated in those days.  Their bedrooms were upstairs.  They had two sources of heat, a fireplace in the living room and a stove in the kitchen.  At night, one fire was put out and the other was banked.  In the morning, they crawled out from under their piles of blankets, grabbed their clothes, and got dressed in front of the stove in the kitchen.

2.  Our dad grew up in Fargo, North Dakota.   He attended Moorhead State Teacher's College, in Minnesota.  The only way for him to get there was to ride a bicycle.  He got what he called "chill blains," which I assume were blisters from frostbite on his lower legs.  He had a brilliant mind and qualified for MENSA (the national Brainiac club for the top 2%), but the depression hit, and he only attended college for one year.  He was president of his class.

3.  The first year our parents were married, they lived in Green Bay, Wisconsin, where my older sister was born.  Our mother was worried that she had waited too long to get married (she was 23), because it took her 6 months to get pregnant.  They lived in a little trailer, and in the winter, when they woke up in the morning, the blankets would be frozen to the wall.