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Frank Carrano: Promotion day, summer fruit, lemon ice welcome summer - New Haven Register

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At this time of year, as school was ending, all the children would participate in promotion day activities. It was a kind of formal transition from one grade to the next. Everyone got dressed in their special clothes and the current teacher would march all of us into the next grade classroom to meet the new teacher.

Whatever circumstances the family experienced, promotion day was a meaningful event because everyone understood how important it was for the children to learn how to make the most of what this country had to offer.

When my sisters were older, they sometimes took me to Savin Rock as a promotion treat, but sometimes it was just a quiet acknowledgment of pride in what had been accomplished.

For those who were fortunate enough to graduate from high school, there would be a family gathering highlighted by the special cake from one of the pastry shops, with Italian cream on rum-flavored sponge layers, sometimes with slivered almonds scattered around the sides, topped with butter cream. These cakes were the iconic representations of special occasions, not to be taken lightly, because such extravagances were few and far between.

June also signaled the transition to a more open style of living. Warmer weather gave us all more space outside the small apartments that so many shared.

In our store at 460 Chapel St., this month also began the appearance of early summer fruits and produce that everyone looked forward to. The first summer fruit would appear from California and Florida packed in wooden crates. One of the most prized would be the Bing cherries in late June hand-packed in small boxes with the top neatly arranged in perfect rows.

The farmer’s market would offer the early lettuces and tender greens that we all enjoyed. My mother especially looked forward to the butter lettuce or lattuga, which she dressed with a simple lemon vinaigrette. The warm-water fish would begin to appear in Long Island Sound and everyone looked forward to a change from the winter catch.

These simple changes defined our lives in so many ways because everything we enjoyed was defined by the availability of goods right in the neighborhood. Most shopped at the nearest grocery or meat market and, of course, the chicken market, where you got to select your hen before processing.

In late June the first lemon ice or lemonade, as we called it, would appear in the pastry shops, a true harbinger of summer. Usually only three flavors, lemon, of course, with small bits of rind in the creamy white confection, semi-sweet chocolate and vanilla with shaved almonds in the mix. These were the flavors that we enjoyed and the only flavors that were part of the tradition. For very special occasions, a spumoni might be purchased; a molded combination of ices and a creamy, nut and fruit-filled center. These were, again, reserved for certain celebrations, and we all looked forward to those times when one would be sliced and served.

Everyone was paid in cash, and paper money was used for most transactions. Very few people had checking accounts, so a large purchase required a trip to the bank. Everyone had a savings account and there were safe places for ready cash to be kept in every home. Community Bank at Chapel and Olive streets had its roots in the Italian community and was regarded as a place to be trusted, especially with so many familiar faces behind the tellers’ cages.

In school, we all brought a dime or quarter to school to deposit in our own accounts. The need to be thrifty and reserve cash for unexpected emergencies was accepted by all but, in many cases, very little was relegated to the thrift account after the expenses were paid. When you made a purchase, you had the money to pay for it.

Young men saved for the day when they might purchase their first used car, something momentous in the life of a first-generation American. Many houses and larger buildings had detached garages, which were rented to keep the cars off the streets. Anyone who was fortunate enough to own a car also recognized that such a status symbol needed to be kept at its best, polished and swept clean regularly. Several garages appeared on Wooster Street to service these important additions to our neighborhood.

June, of course, for those of us with roots in Amalfi, offered the most important opportunity to celebrate our special heritage by shadowing the festivities taking place in Amalfi. The feast honoring St. Andrew, the patron of Amalfi, was a highly stylized occasion with an illuminated street festa, a procession, a solemn high Mass at St. Michael Church celebrated by three priests, fireworks and special foods.

Everyone who traced their lineage to Amalfi participated in some fashion, especially at the church. There are vintage photos of large crowds of people gathered in front of the church, with the facade decorated, after the street procession that meandered throughout the neighborhood. The silver statue of St. Andrew holding silver fish in his hand, which had been donated as memorials by devotees, carried on the shoulders of members of the St. Andrew Society, was regarded as the link to the place left behind. When I visited Amalfi for the festa, I was so reassured to see that our image is an exact duplicate of the original.

As children, we looked forward to the fireworks at Waterside Park, and even now, as the statue of St. Andrew is returned to its place in the church, a lively firecracker display reminds us all of those earlier days of neighborhood celebration.

These events were a combination of pride and devotion; of the continuity of their traditions and of their fierce determination to keep their connection to the place that they loved and left behind.

As a child, I looked forward to the celebrations and I learned to respect and appreciate everything that it represented. We all understood that special connection, and we took pride in it.

Frank Carrano lives in Branford. Contact him at f.carrano@att.net.

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Frank Carrano: Promotion day, summer fruit, lemon ice welcome summer - New Haven Register
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