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A welcome from the author:

When I was growing up my father drove a truck for Toronto Macaroni, delivering boxes of pasta to little Italian grocery stores across Ontario. Those trips to Windsor, North Bay, Sault Ste. Marie, Sudbury formed a web upon which my father passed news and stories from one store owner to another. At home, he told us different stories: the stories of his boyhood, growing up in a small village nestled against the base of a mountain. In Supino, spring came early when the blue flowers burst open on the mountainside and winter crept in after his father had pressed the olives and squeezed the grapes. There was no snow in Supino. The first time my father had seen snow was in February of 1927 when he arrived alone in Halifax with a woolen jacket and a leather passport and $3.00 in his pocket.

He was 19 years old. Although my father spoke lovingly of his village in Italy, he never expressed a desire to go back until he was eight-three. The story of that trip, our purchase of a little three room house in my father's village, his reaction to his birthplace after sixty-four years and my reconnection to my father's roots are all contained in my book, My Father Came From Italy. It is a love story for my father from his youngest daughter. Welcome to my web site.

Enjoy the tour.