Grandma was a tiny, but
powerful, mystical woman and well-known
self-trained midwife, nurse and counselor. She
ruled her domain. Her name was Giovannina
Tuorto Normandia, but people called her
Jennie. She
also did mal' occhio
which literally means bad
eye, or explained as having
the power over the evil-eye.
It was simply called The
Eyes in English. The
belief behind it is that a
person can harm you, your
children, your animals, or
even your fruit trees, by
either looking at you, or
them, with envy and/or by
praising them too much.
Mom would say, for instance,
that someone overlooked the
baby, implying that a
person's gaze on a coveted
person, usually a child, had
lasted too long. That was
why after complimenting a
child, she had been taught
to say God bless you, to
ward off the evil-eye.
Mal’occhio
could be
healed by women like my
grandmother who had learned
the secret healing ritual of
The Eyes from an
older woman. I
watched many times as
neighborhood women brought
Grandma articles of clothing
from their sick children and
begged her to heal them.
Gram did not want them to
bring their sick child to
her house since no one had
cars and they would have to
bring their babies many
blocks in a stroller to
where we lived. She didn't
think a sick baby should be
taken blocks away for a
healing, especially in the
winter.
She would diagnose the
illness and if it was
mal’occhio, she would
perform a cure. It looked to
me like a secret prayer and
ritual using hand gestures
that she made over a piece
of the child's clothing that
the mother had brought.
Eventually she would start
yawning, a signal that the
healing was done. Then she
would say, Go home, your
baby is better now,
and I guess most of the
time, it was so. I asked her
to teach me how to do it but
she said I was too young. It
could only be passed on to
an adult at midnight on
Christmas Eve and she chose
a middle-aged cousin who
wanted to learn the
technique.
Many old Italians wore an
amulet for protection
against the evil-eye curse,
like a cornicello
or corno for
short, a little red horn. In
Neapolitan, it is often made
of red coral and called cuornuciello.
I still have one. It looks
like a chili pepper. Another
amulet was a manofico
which looks like a hand
gesture. They might also
choose to wear a scapular
of Our Lady of Mount Carmel,
a patroness of the Blessed
Virgin Mary. Many became
Carmelites, as my sister
Jean did. Over the years,
she gave everyone in the
family a brown scapular. I
still have mine.
At times Gram suggested an
amulet or charm for the
child to wear to ward off
the power of the evil-eye in
the future. My sister had to
wear a red coral horn for
protection when she was
little. When she had her
first son, Peter, she pinned
the same coral horn to his
diaper. I don't think she
really believed in the old
superstition by then, but
she said she did it "just in
case."
A manofico was a charm of a
closed hand with the thumb
tucked under the index
finger but sticking out
between the index finger and
the middle finger. I noticed
in her later years, my Mom
often held her hand this
way. I thought it was a
tension habit but now I
wonder if she was still
warding off the evil-eye.
Mom
explained my grandmother’s
odd behavior to me by saying
Gram was "like a practical
nurse." When I took my
training to become a Reiki
Master in my adult years, I
noticed some similarities
between Reiki and the
mal’occhio technique as Gram
did it. There were certain
hand movements that looked
similar to Reiki hand
movements, and secret words
said in a foreign language.
Maybe just a coincidence,
but I wonder. I'm not a
superstitious person at all.
I was
completely in
awe of my tiny Grandma
Jennie, the
first powerful woman I
had ever met. I am forever
grateful for the model she
set for me. She and my
sister remained faithful to
the Roman Catholic Church
until their last days on
Earth. I respect their
decision though as I grew
up, a spiritual longing was
stirring inside of me and I
left the Catholic church in
my twenties to search for I
knew not what.
When Gordon and I met, we
were both searching for a
non-traditional spiritual
home where we could be our
most authentic selves about
our inner spiritual beliefs,
which happened to be
similar. It was part of the
attraction we had for each
other. It was an interesting
journey and we finally found
The Seraphim Center in
Gainesville, Florida, where
people of all beliefs are
welcome and there is no
dogma whatsoever except to
love one another. When
Gordon and I wrote our
wedding vows, we put a line
in that said we promised to
stay together as long as our
spiritual paths were joined.
It was that important to us
and thankfully it never
became an issue. The other
line we half-jokingly
thought of adding was that
we would stay together as
long as we never asked the
other to live north of I-10!
Since we both agreed on that
one we left it out. It was a
standing joke that we were
sure people got tired of
hearing but we never got
tired of telling it.
I'm looking forward to
writing about my wonderful
life with Gordon, but it's
not time yet.
I
wrote this love poem about
my Grandma Normandia a
long time ago.
squash grew in
her Victory Garden
and on her cast iron stove
she fried their yellow flowers with eggs
she turned them with her age-worn hand
and I saw ridges on her fingernails
and her sardonyx ring
olive oil did a golden bubble dance
and savory aromas consumed the air
in her upstairs kitchen long ago
spaghetti dried on wooden racks
and Concord wine was pressed in the cellar
and she braided my hair
she had magnolias blooming
in that Brooklyn back yard long ago
no one believes that now
our time together raced by so quickly
now I have ridges on my fingernails
and her sardonyx ring
I appreciate how blessed I
was to grow up in my
grandparents' house. Grandpa
left his body when I was
nine. I don't remember him
well, but I got to be with
Grandma every day of my
childhood until she got her
angel wings when I was just
fifteen. She gave me that
sardonyx ring on my 12th
birthday and I passed it on
to my youngest child,
Priscilla (Cilla) when she
turned twelve. The cozy
house on Conselyea Street
was torn down some years ago
and a sterile condo was
built on the site. Maybe I
really can't go home again
and sit on the
stoop and see the
magnolia tree in the back
yard, but the sweet memories
of those years full of
Grandma-Love will never die.
