A gift from malla

A Gift From Malla (As Plain As The Nose On My Face) A True Story By Robert Alan Chapin Copyright 1991 Smashwords Edition Revised September 3, 2011 It was a hot, sweltering August dog day at Pine Grove Cemetery. The momentous occasion was for our family and friends to lay Malla to rest next to her beloved husband who passed unexpectedly 30 years earlier. It was her second marriage, and although they shared each other’s love - it was short lived, only five years, and she was left with four children to raise, I being the oldest. Malla as she was known, was my mother and a colorful character. At 71 years young, she was a passionate and devoted Elvis fan. Ahead of her time, she received great happiness in wearing imitation leopard design articles of clothing. Often in a mini skirt and mismatched blouse However, she did beat to a different drum, but that is who she was and although I did not have the opportunity to see her often, when we did, the conversation unavoidably centered around Elvis. Her name was Carmela Helena Izzi Chapin, the daughter of immigrant Italians, Rose and Dominic Izzi. Dominic spoke only when spoken to and as long as he had his outhouse, Sears & Roebuck catalog, crooked Italian cigars, hidden booze, and his prized garden he was in his glory. Malla was 23 years old when her brother Basil, a Merchant Marine in The U.S. Navy was torpedoed outside Cape Town, South Africa. Navy officials paid a visit to his mother (my grandmother) with the dreaded news that Basil was in all liklihood lost at sea and the family should plan a memorial service. My grandmother, the solid matriarch of the family refused to believe her son was a casualty and vowed to walk a mile to Saint Thomas Aquinas Church in her bare feet every day until he was rescued. The probability Basil would ever be found was next to impossible. The waters around Cape Town were infested with hungry man eating sharks! Malla was a risk taker - especially when it came to her mother who was a soft shoe with her four daughters. The old man was a different story, if any of the girls were the least bit out of line - it was to the woodshed for an ass whooping with the old three inch wide leather shaving strop! Malla, the third youngest was somehow treated as if she were the baby of the family. In actuality, Mamie was the youngest, whose responsibility it was to keep her older sister’s faithfulness on a strict curfew set forth by her parents. Had it not been for the events of one particular evening, I would not be here today. Malla and Mamie were given permission to attend a local dance. My mother was cautioned that men returning from World War II would be in attendance, and Malla at the age of 23 was rearing to go! My grandmother cautioned the girls to be in by 10 PM and it was non-negotiable! It was 10:00 PM or the woodshed! Mamie returned home by the required time, but without her sister. Malla had eloped with the man who eventually became my father. Grandmother Izzi was livid! The next morning when the old man learned of the defection, true to his word and reputation, he and Mamie took a little visit to the woodshed - leather strop and all. From that time on, the old man refused to allow Malla back into his home, and it appeared that nothing could change his mind. Meanwhile, Rose was attempting to come to grips with a missing son and a daughter who eloped. I was born on December 19, 1946 in Elizabethtown, New York, a short distance from Lake Placid. When my mother sent a letter and photographs to her sister Mamie, and subsequently shown to my grandmother - there was plenty of crying and grandmother Rose put the pressure on my grandfather to allow Malla to return home. With an unfaltering attitude not to change his mind, he slowly acquiesced to grandma’s demands, and my mother was allowed back into the house. Mamie told me recently that my grandfather broke down and sobbed when he saw me for the first time. From that point on harmony was restored. With Basil missing in action, grandma Rose continued to walk to church daily (in her bare feet) offering a Novena in her son‘s memory. Only a mother’s instinct could overcome the U.S. Navy’s insistence that Basil was not returning home. However, following 83 days on the open ocean, he and three two survivor’s beat all the odds and were rescued in the middle of vast Indian ocean. To this day, Seaman Basil Dominick Izzi is the only person in the history of the United States Navy to survive longer than anyone as a result of being torpedoed by a German submarine. Rose, delighted with his survival, never let him out of her sight again until his death at age 58 from a heart related problem. He was The Golden Boy who lived at home and unfortunately was not much of a success in life. As time advanced, Malla divorced my father - an alcoholic - and married my stepfather whose name was Robert Chapin. He legally adopted my two sisters and me and we changed our last name to Chapin. Subsequently, my name is also Robert Chapin. After years of Malla ignored my special day, I finally gave up on the idea of ever celebrating my day with my mother. This all came to light in 1991 when she passed away from lung cancer. My sister Bonni - an attorney - had the means and beautiful home in which to make mother comfortable in her last days. She and I would take turns driving Malla to and from her chemo treatments at one of the area hospitals. On one occasion we were returning from the hospital to Bonni’s home when I needed to fill my tank with gas. Coming from a small town in central New England there was never was much request for an Elvis impersonator. As I pulled into the service station there, on another gas pump was this terribly poor looking individual complete with an old broken down vintage Cadillac sporting the Elvis sideburns, wearing a white cape jacket and flared pants. The guy was pathetic, but Malla got a glimpse of him and shouted” Oh My God Bobby! There’s Elvis!” She apparently had entered a stage in her recovery where fiction overcame her ability to think clearly - but if that is how her mind functioned at this point it is what it is. I approached Elvis who was having a difficult time scraping up spare change for gas and asked if he would like to make $5.00. All he had to do was walk over to Malla, and kiss her hand. As he approached, she was thrilled by his presence. They talked while I was pumping gas, he kissed her on the lips autographed, a scrap of paper and departed leaving her in state of ecstasy. When we returned at my sister’s home Malla was over the moon in love with Elvis. The title of this true story Natural As The Nose On My Face occurred as a result of Malla’s lifestyle. There were so many times when I was frustrated that she would never remember my birthday. As mentioned earlier, she beat to a different drum and had her own agenda in life. Every year she would forget to think of me on my birthday and if she were to visit around that time would always ask: “didn’t you have a birthday this month?” Malla passed away quietly with her three children and my wife Maureen by her side on August 13, 1991. In the several days prior to the wake (her brother had to arrive from Chicago), there was time for me to reflect on her life. I recall on the morning of her wake talking to myself in the mirror as I was preparing to shave -getting angry actually - that she never gave me a gift on my birthday. How could she have been so thoughtless! So uncaring that she would forget her son’s birthday. As I was shaving, I turned my face to the left - then to the right - and this is when I noticed it: I had Malla’s nose. As I continued to move my head back and forth, I began to laugh, then sob, then laugh again! She had given me an invaluable gift! The gift I never received was as Natural As The Nose On My Face! Malla died on August 13, 1991, was buried on August 16, 1991 and Elvis died on August 16, 1977. The organ music and choir selections at Sacred Heart of Jesus Church in West Brookfield, Massachusetts were a medley of Elvis Presley songs. Copyright 1991 Robert A. Chapin ... - tailieumienphi.vn