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Stai zitto. As a child, this is the only Italian phrase that I was consistently met with upon begging my Granddaddy Cecconi to teach me his native language. Its meaning (shut up!) perfectly encapsulated his feelings toward his overly-curious granddaughter who so longed to learn more about his intriguing upbringing. Although unwilling to endure the task of becoming my personal language instructor, my granddaddy frequently shared accounts of his family history, as well as his experience growing up as an Italian-American, all with a strong sense of pride. His accounts served as the beginning of a patchwork quilt, stitching together memories of homemade pasta in his family's kitchen, the salty air of the Carrara coast, and of walking down quiet cobblestone streets on a warm Italian afternoon. From a young age, it was stories like these that ignited in me an eagerness to learn more about this unfamiliar land that held so much of my rich family history: a history including the culture and language of those who came before me.
Growing up in a small town in rural Kentucky, I learned early on that the options for expanding my cultural framework and learning about the context of my ancestry would be limited. In a town where most residents haven’t had the opportunity to travel beyond state borders, it seemed nearly impossible to progress my knowledge of Italy outside the realm of my granddaddy’s personal anecdotes; therefore, I knew that I needed to seek out opportunities for cross-cultural engagement myself. At the age of fifteen, I set the goal for myself to one day go to Italy, hoping to establish my own connection to the country I had been so enamored by from a young age.
Seeking what opportunities I could in my hometown, my desire to learn more about Italian culture only deepened when I started college at a large metropolitan institution. There, for what felt like the first time, I witnessed a wide range of diversity, which expanded my perspective and increased my cross-cultural sensitivity. Encouraged by the university’s emphasis on experiential learning, and after many scholarship applications and part-time jobs, I finally secured enough funding and developed the confidence required to put my feet on Italian soil for the first time.
In the spring of 2023, I studied abroad in Rome, where I spent four of the most formative months of my life. From interacting daily with my Italian professors, spending each morning chatting with the owners of L’Arte Del Pane café, dancing with my neighbors in the streets of Trastevere, to traveling to Carrara for the Easter holiday to meet my extended family for the first time, my life in Italy felt like I was stitching my own patches onto the quilt that my grandaddy had begun piecing together. I was not only reminiscent of the stories he told me as a child; I was creating lasting memories of my own. While incredibly grateful for each of these experiences, however, my brief time abroad only intensified my love for the country of Italy and taught me how much more I have left to learn.
I have been back in the U.S. for five months now, and I reflect on my time spent in Italy with gratitude each day. I look forward to the day that I get to return and continue to add patches to the quilt of my family’s ancestry: patches symbolizing a greater understanding of the history, culture, and vibrancy of the country I’ve grown to love. While as a child I heard one too many derogatory Italian phrases escape from my granddaddy’s lips, I know he would be proud to see that curious, pesky granddaughter of his return to his homeland, making lasting memories of her own.
Mary Catherine, of Springfield, Ky., is a member of the McConnell Scholar Class of 2024 at the University of Louisville. She studie criminal justice and political science.