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All people of all ethnic backgrounds seem to have some kind of "traditions" that happened in their homes during their times spent together as a family. If you talk to others who share the same heritage as you, you and them will probably find that your "traditions" are very similar, many even identical to what happened in each other's past. I find that very much when looking back at my growing up, and many of the things my family, and many of my friends' families, shared in their homes.
I enjoy going to authentic Italian Restaurants and fine the food being served "Family Style" (served in a huge bowl that gets passed around the table), and I look around and see black and white pictures of children in First Communion outfits, or men in the family sitting around a table in their (what I call, "Nanu Undershirts.") The table was usually displaying playing cards, ashtrays set at each place, and usually a bottle of some kind of alcoholic beverage (Wine, Whiskey, or Annisette), and shot glasses, too.
I also remember pictures of women, with aprons on, either in the kitchen cooking and plating food, or in the sitting room talking on plastic covered furniture which was common in many Italian homes.
I was, and still am, a fan of Italian Comedians and Comediennes who base their comedy routines on their Italian upbringing. One of my favorites was/is Dom Irrera. Another is Tammy Pescatelli, and still another is Sebastian Maniscalco.
Irrera, oftentimes, told of visits to his mother's house and the first words out of her mouth were, "Have you eaten? Are you Hungry?" Until my mom passed away, in March of 2006, most of my visits to her, be they with Sally, Sally and the kids, or just me alone, that was most frequently the greeting I was given from Mom. Irrera also spoke of his mother asking him to guess who has/had a specific ailment, or sadly passed away, and then the conversation followed with his mom's diagnosis of how that person probably got the ailment. I had many of those conversations with Mom in my visits with her.
Tammy Pescatelli, too shared memories of being from a large family with Sicilian roots, sharing many stories of family visits, family dinners, family holidays, and the specifics of what went on and who usually said what, and the usually loud discussions (some would call them name calling arguments) between two specific relatives who really didn't like each other anyway. Some of the topics of those disagreements (fights) were the food they were eating (too much sauce on top, not sweet enough, overcooked pasta, how to properly fill the cannoli), politics, and more.
Maniscalco once spoke of the excitement of a knock on the door on a weekday, and the whole family walking to the door, looking through the curtain to see who it was and rejoicing that they were having company. Part of the excitement was that they would be able to eat the otherwise, "Hands Off" cake mom usually baked specifically for company. After we ate the cake, and the adults were sitting around the kitchen or dining room table, the kids usually sat listening to the conversation, not speaking unless the company asked us a question, or our parents told us to tell something to the company about whatever the topic was they wanted us to tell them about. I remember the "Hands off" cookies, or cake, or cannoli (though mom didn't make cannoli a lot), we wanted so badly. That was a huge reason having company was so exciting.
I was once a member of the Marco Polo Club of Jamestown (once one of Jamestown's former existing Italian American Club (though we did accept members from other ethnic groups too) until the club closed in 2024. We held monthly spaghetti dinner nights, where there were many loud discussions (again, arguments) about meatballs, too big or too small, how much seasoning was being used, how much pasta to put on the plate, al-dente or softer, and other topics of discussion that were loudly and colorfully discussed on Meeting Nights, Friday Nights when some of the members played cards together (again, loudly) and on Spaghetti Nights working in the kitchen. I do recall when, on Friday Nights, whenever the movie, The Godfather was on television it was almost dead silent in the club, until a commercial interrupted the film.
Some people think if you are Italian, you must have one or more uncles named Tony, Frank, Sam, Vinny, Louie, and/or Sebastian (Busty). I had Uncle Tonys, an Uncle Sam, an Uncle Frank, a Grandpa, Uncle, and and Brother named Louie, and an Uncle Busty. Many of my Italian friends did too, so maybe there's some truth in that statement.
I've always been proud of my heritage, the traditions we practiced from our Catholic upbringing, our holiday traditions that came from our heritage, many which paired with our Catholic celebrations, (Feast of The Assumption, the St. Joseph Table, The Feast of Seven Fishes, to name a few, and mind you, my family celebrated some of those, but not all of them, just as we didn't eat Spaghetti every Sunday, though we did often make that Sunday Dinner.) On Tuesdays, after Sunday spaghetti, Mom would get out the cast iron pan and fry the leftover spaghetti, and we'd enjoy some fried spaghetti with crusty Italian Bread.
One of the things that many (a lot) Italian (though not exclusive to Italians) people practiced, and were very good at, was saying good-bye, when leaving someone's home. There are many variations of what some have dubbed, The Five Italian Good-byes. Whenever we were getting ready to leave someone's house, Mom or Dad would say, "Time to go, Kids. Get your coats on." (We didn't check clocks much as kids, but when we, as parents, said that to our kids, they'd usually look at the clock when we said it to them, and then looked at each other and agreed that it would be at least another half hour, sometimes forty-five minutes, maybe even an hour, before we'd pull away from in front of the home we were visiting.) Either way, as kids and adults, the Italian Good-Byes took a very long time.
What were, and still are, our version of The Five Italian Good-byes? They went something like this.
We'd stand up after declaring it was time to leave. (And then we'd stop and talk some more.)
We'd walk to the front door to exit. (And then we'd stop and talk some more.)
We'd leave the house and be standing on the front porch. (And then we'd stop and talk some more.)
We'd make our way to the sidewalk in front of the home we were leaving. (And then we'd stop and talk some more.)
We'd be sitting in the running car ready to pull away. (And then we'd roll down the window, and we would talk some more.)
I remember thinking very highly of my kids, back then, when they estimated our real time of departure (windows up, wheels rolling, and car moving) and actually be on our way home. They were usually very close in their EATD (Estimated Accurate Time of Departure.) What I remember most about all these things are the wonderful memories of what my heritage has given to me.
Again, if I sit down with one of my fellow IT-alian (not EYE-talian) relatives and/or friends, many times these traditions may come up and it's almost like we lived in each other's homes, as the stories, memories, and traditions are very similar in nature. I'm sure it is that way with each different ethnic group.
So, celebrate what your heritage gave you and share it with those with different heritages and traditions, especially the unique ones like The Five Italian Good-byes.