Journey of Hope
As the second daughter of immigrant parents, I continue to be amazed and impressed at the courageousness of my parents to leave their family and home to begin a new life in a foreign country - a country that they only knew by name! It was foreign to them in so many ways, not least of all the culture and language. Many times when I questioned them on their decision to emigrate, the answer was always the same: to be given the opportunity for a better life was what they desperately wanted and were very thankful when the opportunity arose.
Among the many people who emigrated, was my Mother, Filomena Innamorato and my Father, Pasquale DeFilippis, along with my sister, their 2½ year old daughter Cristina. They left everyone and everything that they had known in Italy to start a new life in Canada.
Nestled in the Matese Mountains, the town of Roccamandolfi (Isernia) is picturesque. Located approximately 200km southeast of Rome, it was originally part of the region of Campobasso, but is now part of the Molise region. Second and third generations often visit and can envision what the town was like many years ago. Visually very little has changed, except for new development at the perimeter of the town. However, the hardships were many that the people endured. Although most of the townspeople lived within the town, they owned pieces of land that they would cultivate outside of the town. As there was little money for even the bare necessities, the food that was grown was used not only to feed their families, but also to sell or exchange for goods and necessities.
My father married his hometown sweetheart, my mother, in 1947 when he was 19 years old. My parents were poor, but they were fortunate to be living in a little house that belonged to my Grandparents (my mother's parents).
The following year my mother gave birth to a boy, who at the age of 5 days passed away due to complications with the delivery. A year later my sister Cristina was born in the house that my parents lived in. Shortly after, my father was required to serve in the Army, for the compulsory period of time, as all males were required to do at the age of twenty-one.
As the future did not hold much promise, young people were looking for ways to emigrate. Many people had immigrated to countries such as Germany, Belgium, Australia and North and South America for job opportunities. A cousin of my mother's father who lived in Toronto offered to sponsor my grandparents. My grandfather decided that the opportunity should be given to his children. Originally, my mother, who was the eldest and her brother, Giovanni were chosen to go to Canada. However, when my mother went to Rome with her brother to complete the papers, the Consulate suggested that it would perhaps be more practical for my father and uncle to make the initial trip. Therefore, it was agreed that my father and uncle would go to Canada.
My father was notified of his departure date early in 1952. Although he had half of the money required for the voyage, he would need to borrow the remainder. An uncle who had been living and working in Belgium had offered to lend my father the remaining amount. Being the eldest of four children, he was the first to leave the town and the country in his family.
On a beautiful spring day, Good Friday, April 14, 1952, with a suitcase in hand, my father left the little town of Roccamandolfi. Waving goodbye to his wife, daughter and family, my father and uncle traveled to Naples and boarded the ship called The Argentina, not knowing when he would see them again.
The two-week ship crossing was a great adventure for two young men who had never left their homeland. They roamed the ship, enjoyed the nightly entertainment and meals. The ship made a couple of stops to pick up passengers, one of which was Lisbon. While in port, they were allowed to disembark the ship for a few hours before they departed. As they walked around, it was the first time that they both saw bananas. Curious, they bought a bunch and brought them back to ship with them. However, they later threw them overboard when they decided that they didn't like the taste. Little did they know that they had to peel the skins off first!
Arriving in Halifax, Pier 21 on April 27, 1952, they found the weather to be cold and dreary. They followed the rest of the passengers into the building where they were asked to line up. One by one, they were asked questions in English. Although they did not understand their questions, they tried to answer them the best they could, combining their answers in Italian with sign language. They were also examined physically and frisked to ensure they were not smuggling in any meats and plants. Once "processed " they were each given $10.00 Canadian for the train trip to Toronto.
The two-day train trip would introduce them to Canadian food. Purchasing a loaf of white sliced bread and cold drinks with the money they were given, they sat down to have a sandwich. Being accustomed to the Italian crusty bread, they both agreed that the bread had gone moldy after a few bites, and left the rest of the bread on the train. Weary and homesick, they were anxious to meet their family in Toronto and have a good home cooked Italian meal.
Union Station was bustling with people when they arrived in Toronto. Once outside, they were greeted by my great uncle and taken his car. Both my father and Uncle did not know anyone who owned a car and concluded that my great uncle was very rich.
For the first few months, they boarded with family and were assisted in finding jobs. One of the first jobs my father had was at the National Casket, where they manufactured burial caskets. Yes, caskets! One of the perks of the job, my father was told, was that he would get a free casket when he died!
My father was very homesick and would often cry at night, missing his wife and child. Trying to learn the language and how to get around in the city was very difficult. He told us many times that if he had the money to return home at that time, he would gladly have taken the first ship home. Simple things that we take for granted such as taking the bus, was an adventure for my Dad. My great uncle had written down his address on a piece of paper for my father should he ever get lost. The first few times he took the bus on his own were difficult. He would usually tell the bus driver the name of the street and the bus driver would let him know when to get off. One particular time, the bus driver didn't understand him and my father traveled up and down the bus route until he finally recognized his street.
During this time my father had been trying to repay his debt and send money to my mother for them to join him. However, he had very little left over once he paid his room and board. In September my uncle was married and my mother's Aunt from New Jersey attended the wedding. She asked my father about my mother's arrival. My father explained his situation to her and told her that he hoped to get his wife and daughter to join him the following year. My great aunt knew how difficult life was in the town and immediately offered to pay their fare in order to get them in Canada sooner.
My sister was the first grandchild in the family and she was the apple of everyone's eye. She was a child accustomed to the freedom of a small town. Knowing most of the townspeople, my mother did not worry about her whereabouts and playing with friends. In January of 1953, my mother had been notified of their departure date. Cristina, who wasn't quite 3 years of age, told her family not to cry, as she would come back and bring them to Canada with her. Little did she know that the family left behind would arrive in Canada long before she ever went back to her hometown.
Boarding the ship The Atlantic, in the port of Naples, with one suitcase for the two of them, it would be the last time that my mother would see her hometown. Although my mother would meet many people on the ship, she traveled alone with her daughter. They were fortunate not to get seasick, but my mother did have a minor accident on the ship. She caught her finger in a doorway as it was shutting and needed to have a nurse attend to it.
On January 22, 1953 they reached Halifax. It was in the middle of winter and was a very cold and windy day. Snow was all around and my mother soon realized that their winter coats would not be warm enough for the Canadian winters. Wrapping her arms around her daughter, they followed others to a building. Once they went through the immigration process, my mother was given $15.00 Canadian dollars for her and her daughter for the train trip to Toronto.
Nine months after my father left Italy he greeted his wife and daughter in Toronto. They temporarily shared the flat with my uncle and his new bride, but they soon moved to a series of flats. Eventually they were able to buy their first home on Essex Street. A year later in 1954 they moved to their second home on Pendrith Street, the same year that I was born .
As with many immigrant families, they struggled to make ends meet. Using an English language book that my father had bought, they both learned the English language. In the early'60's both my parents became Canadian citizens and as a result my sister became a Naturalized Canadian. They also sponsored their sisters, brothers and both sets of parents. By 1962 all of their immediate family were living in Canada.
My sister, Cristina didn't learn the English language until she started Kindergarten. As a result of the language barrier, she was held back one year in grade school, but later excelled in school and completed 3 grade school years in 2 years. I was fortunate to learn English through her and our friends. We both found that throughout grade school, our names were spelled wrong. For years, the school spelled our names De Philipps instead of DeFilippis. It wasn't until years later that my parents realized that they were spelling it incorrectly and asked them to correct it.
My mother passed away in 1963 from breast cancer after a three-year battle. My father has retired after 26 years with the Toronto Transit Commission. He is enjoying his retirement, spending most of his time in his garden. He has visited his hometown in Italy twice over the years, but is always happy to come back home to Canada. My father's parents were the only ones to return to Italy to retire after living in Canada for 10 years.
Dina (DeFilippis) Simon
November 2002
As the second daughter of immigrant parents, I continue to be amazed and impressed at the courageousness of my parents to leave their family and home to begin a new life in a foreign country - a country that they only knew by name! It was foreign to them in so many ways, not least of all the culture and language. Many times when I questioned them on their decision to emigrate, the answer was always the same: to be given the opportunity for a better life was what they desperately wanted and were very thankful when the opportunity arose.
Among the many people who emigrated, was my Mother, Filomena Innamorato and my Father, Pasquale DeFilippis, along with my sister, their 2½ year old daughter Cristina. They left everyone and everything that they had known in Italy to start a new life in Canada.
Nestled in the Matese Mountains, the town of Roccamandolfi (Isernia) is picturesque. Located approximately 200km southeast of Rome, it was originally part of the region of Campobasso, but is now part of the Molise region. Second and third generations often visit and can envision what the town was like many years ago. Visually very little has changed, except for new development at the perimeter of the town. However, the hardships were many that the people endured. Although most of the townspeople lived within the town, they owned pieces of land that they would cultivate outside of the town. As there was little money for even the bare necessities, the food that was grown was used not only to feed their families, but also to sell or exchange for goods and necessities.
My father married his hometown sweetheart, my mother, in 1947 when he was 19 years old. My parents were poor, but they were fortunate to be living in a little house that belonged to my Grandparents (my mother's parents).
The following year my mother gave birth to a boy, who at the age of 5 days passed away due to complications with the delivery. A year later my sister Cristina was born in the house that my parents lived in. Shortly after, my father was required to serve in the Army, for the compulsory period of time, as all males were required to do at the age of twenty-one.
As the future did not hold much promise, young people were looking for ways to emigrate. Many people had immigrated to countries such as Germany, Belgium, Australia and North and South America for job opportunities. A cousin of my mother's father who lived in Toronto offered to sponsor my grandparents. My grandfather decided that the opportunity should be given to his children. Originally, my mother, who was the eldest and her brother, Giovanni were chosen to go to Canada. However, when my mother went to Rome with her brother to complete the papers, the Consulate suggested that it would perhaps be more practical for my father and uncle to make the initial trip. Therefore, it was agreed that my father and uncle would go to Canada.
My father was notified of his departure date early in 1952. Although he had half of the money required for the voyage, he would need to borrow the remainder. An uncle who had been living and working in Belgium had offered to lend my father the remaining amount. Being the eldest of four children, he was the first to leave the town and the country in his family.
On a beautiful spring day, Good Friday, April 14, 1952, with a suitcase in hand, my father left the little town of Roccamandolfi. Waving goodbye to his wife, daughter and family, my father and uncle traveled to Naples and boarded the ship called The Argentina, not knowing when he would see them again.
The two-week ship crossing was a great adventure for two young men who had never left their homeland. They roamed the ship, enjoyed the nightly entertainment and meals. The ship made a couple of stops to pick up passengers, one of which was Lisbon. While in port, they were allowed to disembark the ship for a few hours before they departed. As they walked around, it was the first time that they both saw bananas. Curious, they bought a bunch and brought them back to ship with them. However, they later threw them overboard when they decided that they didn't like the taste. Little did they know that they had to peel the skins off first!
Arriving in Halifax, Pier 21 on April 27, 1952, they found the weather to be cold and dreary. They followed the rest of the passengers into the building where they were asked to line up. One by one, they were asked questions in English. Although they did not understand their questions, they tried to answer them the best they could, combining their answers in Italian with sign language. They were also examined physically and frisked to ensure they were not smuggling in any meats and plants. Once "processed " they were each given $10.00 Canadian for the train trip to Toronto.
The two-day train trip would introduce them to Canadian food. Purchasing a loaf of white sliced bread and cold drinks with the money they were given, they sat down to have a sandwich. Being accustomed to the Italian crusty bread, they both agreed that the bread had gone moldy after a few bites, and left the rest of the bread on the train. Weary and homesick, they were anxious to meet their family in Toronto and have a good home cooked Italian meal.
Union Station was bustling with people when they arrived in Toronto. Once outside, they were greeted by my great uncle and taken his car. Both my father and Uncle did not know anyone who owned a car and concluded that my great uncle was very rich.
For the first few months, they boarded with family and were assisted in finding jobs. One of the first jobs my father had was at the National Casket, where they manufactured burial caskets. Yes, caskets! One of the perks of the job, my father was told, was that he would get a free casket when he died!
My father was very homesick and would often cry at night, missing his wife and child. Trying to learn the language and how to get around in the city was very difficult. He told us many times that if he had the money to return home at that time, he would gladly have taken the first ship home. Simple things that we take for granted such as taking the bus, was an adventure for my Dad. My great uncle had written down his address on a piece of paper for my father should he ever get lost. The first few times he took the bus on his own were difficult. He would usually tell the bus driver the name of the street and the bus driver would let him know when to get off. One particular time, the bus driver didn't understand him and my father traveled up and down the bus route until he finally recognized his street.
During this time my father had been trying to repay his debt and send money to my mother for them to join him. However, he had very little left over once he paid his room and board. In September my uncle was married and my mother's Aunt from New Jersey attended the wedding. She asked my father about my mother's arrival. My father explained his situation to her and told her that he hoped to get his wife and daughter to join him the following year. My great aunt knew how difficult life was in the town and immediately offered to pay their fare in order to get them in Canada sooner.
My sister was the first grandchild in the family and she was the apple of everyone's eye. She was a child accustomed to the freedom of a small town. Knowing most of the townspeople, my mother did not worry about her whereabouts and playing with friends. In January of 1953, my mother had been notified of their departure date. Cristina, who wasn't quite 3 years of age, told her family not to cry, as she would come back and bring them to Canada with her. Little did she know that the family left behind would arrive in Canada long before she ever went back to her hometown.
Boarding the ship The Atlantic, in the port of Naples, with one suitcase for the two of them, it would be the last time that my mother would see her hometown. Although my mother would meet many people on the ship, she traveled alone with her daughter. They were fortunate not to get seasick, but my mother did have a minor accident on the ship. She caught her finger in a doorway as it was shutting and needed to have a nurse attend to it.
On January 22, 1953 they reached Halifax. It was in the middle of winter and was a very cold and windy day. Snow was all around and my mother soon realized that their winter coats would not be warm enough for the Canadian winters. Wrapping her arms around her daughter, they followed others to a building. Once they went through the immigration process, my mother was given $15.00 Canadian dollars for her and her daughter for the train trip to Toronto.
Nine months after my father left Italy he greeted his wife and daughter in Toronto. They temporarily shared the flat with my uncle and his new bride, but they soon moved to a series of flats. Eventually they were able to buy their first home on Essex Street. A year later in 1954 they moved to their second home on Pendrith Street, the same year that I was born .
As with many immigrant families, they struggled to make ends meet. Using an English language book that my father had bought, they both learned the English language. In the early'60's both my parents became Canadian citizens and as a result my sister became a Naturalized Canadian. They also sponsored their sisters, brothers and both sets of parents. By 1962 all of their immediate family were living in Canada.
My sister, Cristina didn't learn the English language until she started Kindergarten. As a result of the language barrier, she was held back one year in grade school, but later excelled in school and completed 3 grade school years in 2 years. I was fortunate to learn English through her and our friends. We both found that throughout grade school, our names were spelled wrong. For years, the school spelled our names De Philipps instead of DeFilippis. It wasn't until years later that my parents realized that they were spelling it incorrectly and asked them to correct it.
My mother passed away in 1963 from breast cancer after a three-year battle. My father has retired after 26 years with the Toronto Transit Commission. He is enjoying his retirement, spending most of his time in his garden. He has visited his hometown in Italy twice over the years, but is always happy to come back home to Canada. My father's parents were the only ones to return to Italy to retire after living in Canada for 10 years.
Dina (DeFilippis) Simon
November 2002
Journey of Hope
As the second daughter of immigrant parents, I continue to be amazed and impressed at the courageousness of my parents to leave their family and home to begin a new life in a foreign country - a country that they only knew by name! It was foreign to them in so many ways, not least of all the culture and language. Many times when I questioned them on their decision to emigrate, the answer was always the same: to be given the opportunity for a better life was what they desperately wanted and were very thankful when the opportunity arose.
Among the many people who emigrated, was my Mother, Filomena Innamorato and my Father, Pasquale DeFilippis, along with my sister, their 2½ year old daughter Cristina. They left everyone and everything that they had known in Italy to start a new life in Canada.
Nestled in the Matese Mountains, the town of Roccamandolfi (Isernia) is picturesque. Located approximately 200km southeast of Rome, it was originally part of the region of Campobasso, but is now part of the Molise region. Second and third generations often visit and can envision what the town was like many years ago. Visually very little has changed, except for new development at the perimeter of the town. However, the hardships were many that the people endured. Although most of the townspeople lived within the town, they owned pieces of land that they would cultivate outside of the town. As there was little money for even the bare necessities, the food that was grown was used not only to feed their families, but also to sell or exchange for goods and necessities.
My father married his hometown sweetheart, my mother, in 1947 when he was 19 years old. My parents were poor, but they were fortunate to be living in a little house that belonged to my Grandparents (my mother's parents).
The following year my mother gave birth to a boy, who at the age of 5 days passed away due to complications with the delivery. A year later my sister Cristina was born in the house that my parents lived in. Shortly after, my father was required to serve in the Army, for the compulsory period of time, as all males were required to do at the age of twenty-one.
As the future did not hold much promise, young people were looking for ways to emigrate. Many people had immigrated to countries such as Germany, Belgium, Australia and North and South America for job opportunities. A cousin of my mother's father who lived in Toronto offered to sponsor my grandparents. My grandfather decided that the opportunity should be given to his children. Originally, my mother, who was the eldest and her brother, Giovanni were chosen to go to Canada. However, when my mother went to Rome with her brother to complete the papers, the Consulate suggested that it would perhaps be more practical for my father and uncle to make the initial trip. Therefore, it was agreed that my father and uncle would go to Canada.
My father was notified of his departure date early in 1952. Although he had half of the money required for the voyage, he would need to borrow the remainder. An uncle who had been living and working in Belgium had offered to lend my father the remaining amount. Being the eldest of four children, he was the first to leave the town and the country in his family.
On a beautiful spring day, Good Friday, April 14, 1952, with a suitcase in hand, my father left the little town of Roccamandolfi. Waving goodbye to his wife, daughter and family, my father and uncle traveled to Naples and boarded the ship called The Argentina, not knowing when he would see them again.
The two-week ship crossing was a great adventure for two young men who had never left their homeland. They roamed the ship, enjoyed the nightly entertainment and meals. The ship made a couple of stops to pick up passengers, one of which was Lisbon. While in port, they were allowed to disembark the ship for a few hours before they departed. As they walked around, it was the first time that they both saw bananas. Curious, they bought a bunch and brought them back to ship with them. However, they later threw them overboard when they decided that they didn't like the taste. Little did they know that they had to peel the skins off first!
Arriving in Halifax, Pier 21 on April 27, 1952, they found the weather to be cold and dreary. They followed the rest of the passengers into the building where they were asked to line up. One by one, they were asked questions in English. Although they did not understand their questions, they tried to answer them the best they could, combining their answers in Italian with sign language. They were also examined physically and frisked to ensure they were not smuggling in any meats and plants. Once "processed " they were each given $10.00 Canadian for the train trip to Toronto.
The two-day train trip would introduce them to Canadian food. Purchasing a loaf of white sliced bread and cold drinks with the money they were given, they sat down to have a sandwich. Being accustomed to the Italian crusty bread, they both agreed that the bread had gone moldy after a few bites, and left the rest of the bread on the train. Weary and homesick, they were anxious to meet their family in Toronto and have a good home cooked Italian meal.
Union Station was bustling with people when they arrived in Toronto. Once outside, they were greeted by my great uncle and taken his car. Both my father and Uncle did not know anyone who owned a car and concluded that my great uncle was very rich.
For the first few months, they boarded with family and were assisted in finding jobs. One of the first jobs my father had was at the National Casket, where they manufactured burial caskets. Yes, caskets! One of the perks of the job, my father was told, was that he would get a free casket when he died!
My father was very homesick and would often cry at night, missing his wife and child. Trying to learn the language and how to get around in the city was very difficult. He told us many times that if he had the money to return home at that time, he would gladly have taken the first ship home. Simple things that we take for granted such as taking the bus, was an adventure for my Dad. My great uncle had written down his address on a piece of paper for my father should he ever get lost. The first few times he took the bus on his own were difficult. He would usually tell the bus driver the name of the street and the bus driver would let him know when to get off. One particular time, the bus driver didn't understand him and my father traveled up and down the bus route until he finally recognized his street.
During this time my father had been trying to repay his debt and send money to my mother for them to join him. However, he had very little left over once he paid his room and board. In September my uncle was married and my mother's Aunt from New Jersey attended the wedding. She asked my father about my mother's arrival. My father explained his situation to her and told her that he hoped to get his wife and daughter to join him the following year. My great aunt knew how difficult life was in the town and immediately offered to pay their fare in order to get them in Canada sooner.
My sister was the first grandchild in the family and she was the apple of everyone's eye. She was a child accustomed to the freedom of a small town. Knowing most of the townspeople, my mother did not worry about her whereabouts and playing with friends. In January of 1953, my mother had been notified of their departure date. Cristina, who wasn't quite 3 years of age, told her family not to cry, as she would come back and bring them to Canada with her. Little did she know that the family left behind would arrive in Canada long before she ever went back to her hometown.
Boarding the ship The Atlantic, in the port of Naples, with one suitcase for the two of them, it would be the last time that my mother would see her hometown. Although my mother would meet many people on the ship, she traveled alone with her daughter. They were fortunate not to get seasick, but my mother did have a minor accident on the ship. She caught her finger in a doorway as it was shutting and needed to have a nurse attend to it.
On January 22, 1953 they reached Halifax. It was in the middle of winter and was a very cold and windy day. Snow was all around and my mother soon realized that their winter coats would not be warm enough for the Canadian winters. Wrapping her arms around her daughter, they followed others to a building. Once they went through the immigration process, my mother was given $15.00 Canadian dollars for her and her daughter for the train trip to Toronto.
Nine months after my father left Italy he greeted his wife and daughter in Toronto. They temporarily shared the flat with my uncle and his new bride, but they soon moved to a series of flats. Eventually they were able to buy their first home on Essex Street. A year later in 1954 they moved to their second home on Pendrith Street, the same year that I was born .
As with many immigrant families, they struggled to make ends meet. Using an English language book that my father had bought, they both learned the English language. In the early'60's both my parents became Canadian citizens and as a result my sister became a Naturalized Canadian. They also sponsored their sisters, brothers and both sets of parents. By 1962 all of their immediate family were living in Canada.
My sister, Cristina didn't learn the English language until she started Kindergarten. As a result of the language barrier, she was held back one year in grade school, but later excelled in school and completed 3 grade school years in 2 years. I was fortunate to learn English through her and our friends. We both found that throughout grade school, our names were spelled wrong. For years, the school spelled our names De Philipps instead of DeFilippis. It wasn't until years later that my parents realized that they were spelling it incorrectly and asked them to correct it.
My mother passed away in 1963 from breast cancer after a three-year battle. My father has retired after 26 years with the Toronto Transit Commission. He is enjoying his retirement, spending most of his time in his garden. He has visited his hometown in Italy twice over the years, but is always happy to come back home to Canada. My father's parents were the only ones to return to Italy to retire after living in Canada for 10 years.
Dina (DeFilippis) Simon
November 2002
As the second daughter of immigrant parents, I continue to be amazed and impressed at the courageousness of my parents to leave their family and home to begin a new life in a foreign country - a country that they only knew by name! It was foreign to them in so many ways, not least of all the culture and language. Many times when I questioned them on their decision to emigrate, the answer was always the same: to be given the opportunity for a better life was what they desperately wanted and were very thankful when the opportunity arose.
Among the many people who emigrated, was my Mother, Filomena Innamorato and my Father, Pasquale DeFilippis, along with my sister, their 2½ year old daughter Cristina. They left everyone and everything that they had known in Italy to start a new life in Canada.
Nestled in the Matese Mountains, the town of Roccamandolfi (Isernia) is picturesque. Located approximately 200km southeast of Rome, it was originally part of the region of Campobasso, but is now part of the Molise region. Second and third generations often visit and can envision what the town was like many years ago. Visually very little has changed, except for new development at the perimeter of the town. However, the hardships were many that the people endured. Although most of the townspeople lived within the town, they owned pieces of land that they would cultivate outside of the town. As there was little money for even the bare necessities, the food that was grown was used not only to feed their families, but also to sell or exchange for goods and necessities.
My father married his hometown sweetheart, my mother, in 1947 when he was 19 years old. My parents were poor, but they were fortunate to be living in a little house that belonged to my Grandparents (my mother's parents).
The following year my mother gave birth to a boy, who at the age of 5 days passed away due to complications with the delivery. A year later my sister Cristina was born in the house that my parents lived in. Shortly after, my father was required to serve in the Army, for the compulsory period of time, as all males were required to do at the age of twenty-one.
As the future did not hold much promise, young people were looking for ways to emigrate. Many people had immigrated to countries such as Germany, Belgium, Australia and North and South America for job opportunities. A cousin of my mother's father who lived in Toronto offered to sponsor my grandparents. My grandfather decided that the opportunity should be given to his children. Originally, my mother, who was the eldest and her brother, Giovanni were chosen to go to Canada. However, when my mother went to Rome with her brother to complete the papers, the Consulate suggested that it would perhaps be more practical for my father and uncle to make the initial trip. Therefore, it was agreed that my father and uncle would go to Canada.
My father was notified of his departure date early in 1952. Although he had half of the money required for the voyage, he would need to borrow the remainder. An uncle who had been living and working in Belgium had offered to lend my father the remaining amount. Being the eldest of four children, he was the first to leave the town and the country in his family.
On a beautiful spring day, Good Friday, April 14, 1952, with a suitcase in hand, my father left the little town of Roccamandolfi. Waving goodbye to his wife, daughter and family, my father and uncle traveled to Naples and boarded the ship called The Argentina, not knowing when he would see them again.
The two-week ship crossing was a great adventure for two young men who had never left their homeland. They roamed the ship, enjoyed the nightly entertainment and meals. The ship made a couple of stops to pick up passengers, one of which was Lisbon. While in port, they were allowed to disembark the ship for a few hours before they departed. As they walked around, it was the first time that they both saw bananas. Curious, they bought a bunch and brought them back to ship with them. However, they later threw them overboard when they decided that they didn't like the taste. Little did they know that they had to peel the skins off first!
Arriving in Halifax, Pier 21 on April 27, 1952, they found the weather to be cold and dreary. They followed the rest of the passengers into the building where they were asked to line up. One by one, they were asked questions in English. Although they did not understand their questions, they tried to answer them the best they could, combining their answers in Italian with sign language. They were also examined physically and frisked to ensure they were not smuggling in any meats and plants. Once "processed " they were each given $10.00 Canadian for the train trip to Toronto.
The two-day train trip would introduce them to Canadian food. Purchasing a loaf of white sliced bread and cold drinks with the money they were given, they sat down to have a sandwich. Being accustomed to the Italian crusty bread, they both agreed that the bread had gone moldy after a few bites, and left the rest of the bread on the train. Weary and homesick, they were anxious to meet their family in Toronto and have a good home cooked Italian meal.
Union Station was bustling with people when they arrived in Toronto. Once outside, they were greeted by my great uncle and taken his car. Both my father and Uncle did not know anyone who owned a car and concluded that my great uncle was very rich.
For the first few months, they boarded with family and were assisted in finding jobs. One of the first jobs my father had was at the National Casket, where they manufactured burial caskets. Yes, caskets! One of the perks of the job, my father was told, was that he would get a free casket when he died!
My father was very homesick and would often cry at night, missing his wife and child. Trying to learn the language and how to get around in the city was very difficult. He told us many times that if he had the money to return home at that time, he would gladly have taken the first ship home. Simple things that we take for granted such as taking the bus, was an adventure for my Dad. My great uncle had written down his address on a piece of paper for my father should he ever get lost. The first few times he took the bus on his own were difficult. He would usually tell the bus driver the name of the street and the bus driver would let him know when to get off. One particular time, the bus driver didn't understand him and my father traveled up and down the bus route until he finally recognized his street.
During this time my father had been trying to repay his debt and send money to my mother for them to join him. However, he had very little left over once he paid his room and board. In September my uncle was married and my mother's Aunt from New Jersey attended the wedding. She asked my father about my mother's arrival. My father explained his situation to her and told her that he hoped to get his wife and daughter to join him the following year. My great aunt knew how difficult life was in the town and immediately offered to pay their fare in order to get them in Canada sooner.
My sister was the first grandchild in the family and she was the apple of everyone's eye. She was a child accustomed to the freedom of a small town. Knowing most of the townspeople, my mother did not worry about her whereabouts and playing with friends. In January of 1953, my mother had been notified of their departure date. Cristina, who wasn't quite 3 years of age, told her family not to cry, as she would come back and bring them to Canada with her. Little did she know that the family left behind would arrive in Canada long before she ever went back to her hometown.
Boarding the ship The Atlantic, in the port of Naples, with one suitcase for the two of them, it would be the last time that my mother would see her hometown. Although my mother would meet many people on the ship, she traveled alone with her daughter. They were fortunate not to get seasick, but my mother did have a minor accident on the ship. She caught her finger in a doorway as it was shutting and needed to have a nurse attend to it.
On January 22, 1953 they reached Halifax. It was in the middle of winter and was a very cold and windy day. Snow was all around and my mother soon realized that their winter coats would not be warm enough for the Canadian winters. Wrapping her arms around her daughter, they followed others to a building. Once they went through the immigration process, my mother was given $15.00 Canadian dollars for her and her daughter for the train trip to Toronto.
Nine months after my father left Italy he greeted his wife and daughter in Toronto. They temporarily shared the flat with my uncle and his new bride, but they soon moved to a series of flats. Eventually they were able to buy their first home on Essex Street. A year later in 1954 they moved to their second home on Pendrith Street, the same year that I was born .
As with many immigrant families, they struggled to make ends meet. Using an English language book that my father had bought, they both learned the English language. In the early'60's both my parents became Canadian citizens and as a result my sister became a Naturalized Canadian. They also sponsored their sisters, brothers and both sets of parents. By 1962 all of their immediate family were living in Canada.
My sister, Cristina didn't learn the English language until she started Kindergarten. As a result of the language barrier, she was held back one year in grade school, but later excelled in school and completed 3 grade school years in 2 years. I was fortunate to learn English through her and our friends. We both found that throughout grade school, our names were spelled wrong. For years, the school spelled our names De Philipps instead of DeFilippis. It wasn't until years later that my parents realized that they were spelling it incorrectly and asked them to correct it.
My mother passed away in 1963 from breast cancer after a three-year battle. My father has retired after 26 years with the Toronto Transit Commission. He is enjoying his retirement, spending most of his time in his garden. He has visited his hometown in Italy twice over the years, but is always happy to come back home to Canada. My father's parents were the only ones to return to Italy to retire after living in Canada for 10 years.
Dina (DeFilippis) Simon
November 2002
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