Written for Six Sentence Story where we are given a word,
in this case ‘lift’, and asked to incorporate it into a story of
no more than six sentences. This is my true story of family.

© NAR
“Mangia il cibo sul tuo piatto, Concetta, o lo mangerai dal pavimento” – (“Eat the food on your plate, Concetta, or you will eat it off the floor.”)
Without changing her expression or taking her huge brown eyes off her father Domenico’s face, three year old Concetta picked up a meatball, extended her arm over the side of her highchair and very calmly let it drop to the floor.
Silence.
Everyone sat in suspended animation as Domenico deliberately put down his knife and fork and removed the napkin which was tucked into the neck of his shirt; slowly he stood up, walked behind Concetta’s chair, grabbed the back of her dress and lifted her up.
Holding her feet with his other hand, Domenico lowered Concetta’s face to the floor until her mouth touched the meatball; she tried to turn away, but Domenico pushed her face into the food, forcing her to take the meatball into her mouth, then, satisfied, he sat her back in her highchair, returned to his seat and resumed eating while Concetta languidly chewed what was in her mouth.
Hesitantly, self-consciously, everyone resumed eating and talking except Concetta’s mother Rosa who sat watching her daughter closely; at the end of the meal as the women cleared the table, Rosa placed a napkin over her defiant daughter’s mouth so she could spit out the uneaten meatball and whispered in her ear “Mai più, Concetta; obbedisci a tuo padre!” – (“Never again, Concetta; obey your father!”)
NAR©2024
This is a Sicilian folksong called “Mi votu e mi rivotu” (“I toss and I turn”)
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Excellent Sixifying!
Engaging in the best sense of the word: getting the Reader to stay with the story and stimulating discussion faster than a bottle of Madeira in a coed dorm room.
Not for nothin’ while I concur different times, different standards, this is a very effective cautionary tale for all who believe that what we know of the world is the highest level of how we should act with and towards others.
Not that, back in those days there was time for recreational swimming, but ole granddad would surely be the kind of man to throw the child out into the water when he decided they needed to learn to swim.
Direct. Effective. Little emotional demands on the Thrower. Works. Except for when it doesn’t.
lol
damn! I enjoy these discussions.., Comment-threads-as-Saturday-living-rooms
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How do you think I learned how to swim?
All are welcome in my living room; mia casa è la tua casa. Just be aware we do things the Sicilian way here so leave your pussy hats in the car.
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Papa had to be a man of his word, he said it would happen, and it did.
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That’s a fact, Mimi.
I’m slightly blown away by your use of the term Papa. I didn’t mention it in the story but that is what we called my grandfather. When I read what you wrote, it gave me goosebumps …. good ones.
I appreciate your comments, Mimi.
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Poor little Concetta. Poor little girl.
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One regret I have is not knowing what led my mother to hide her emotions and build walls to protect her from hurt. Perhaps if I understood her better and earlier, understood the reasons for her inability to openly show and receive love, we could have worked on our relationship. Maybe, if she let me in, I might have come to understand her. She was an excellent builder of walls.
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A little of that could be used today. That song is really cool 😎
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Thanks, Dylan. I agree on both counts.
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That was not much different when I was little – it was rather strict back then.
Great video – the music and the images.
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In truth, I believe a strong, guiding and loving hand yields the best results.
So glad to know you enjoyed the Sicilian music.
Thanks, Chris.
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To start, thank you for sharing the photo of your mother. Her little face alone tells a story. An engaging story you’ve told, Nancy, with many points of discussion. Early lessons that can last a lifetime.
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That is the only photo I have of my mom from her childhood. Hers was not an easy life; hell, back then no one’s life was easy …. especially the non-English-speaking immigrants who broke their backs to put food on the table, maintain a household and care for their children. Nothing was handed to them. They loved this country, which they entered legally, swore their allegiance and taught their children hard lessons.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts, Michele.
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Thank you, Nancy. Hard lessons that don’t stop with their generation when those born after our fortunate enough to hear their stories. Different scenarios but a similar theme of hard work, adversity, and overcoming poverty in my family. Great respect for their sacrifices, perseverance, and accomplishments.
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This recounting from 1920 has filled me with the desire and feeling of necessity to defend my grandfather who, after I came along some 30 years later, was nothing but a sweet, loving, softy of a man who wouldn’t hurt a fly, who adored me and who I adored in turn.
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💕
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Wonderful tale of your grandfather and mother. I like the threat: “Eat the food on your plate, Concetta, or you will eat it off the floor.”
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Thanks so much, Frank. It may not be the popular way now but this is how children were raised in 1920.
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Presentism is judging actions in the past by the standards of today. In those days, you didn’t waste food, and that’s the way you learned it…
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Correct. And you didn’t dis your parents, either. Simple as that.
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How things have changed and not necessarily for the better. Waste not, want not.
The video is so good – not just the music but the images too!
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It may not be especially PC these days (spare the rod, spoil the child) but I do believe we can learn a thing or two from our ancestors, Keith.
So glad you enjoyed the Sicilian music. I was very happy to have found it!
Thank you!
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oh lots of food for thought just don’t eat the meatballs.. lol 💗
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Adages like “spare the rod and spoil the child” didn’t last such a long time for nothing, Cindy. There’s something to be said for setting boundaries and teaching our kids respect and responsibility. There are a lot of parents today who have sadly dropped the ball. I’m not advocating corporal punishment, mind you, but some kids have fallen through the cracks because of a lack of discipline and that’s a damn shame.
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I sooooo agree with you on all counts, Nancy. Who’s minding the shop half the time.. 🙀
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Excellent question!
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I remember my bad being strict at times, but not that strict!
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My dad was a softy; my mom only had to look crossly at me and I knew I’d better shape up.
I was strong willed and am sure I caused my parents many headaches but I turned out ok.
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We had that sit there until you eat it rule, too. Unless you literally gagged and spewed (I did once, over some canned reindeer meatballs), you had to eat several bites. And then, in future, you weren’t given it again. Just absent from the plate.
I did the you have to try one bite with my kids, but never made a separate meal for each person. Cuz that’s bananas…we are not a restaurant!
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Not a damn thing wrong with that policy! On the other hand, I can think of several things wrong with canned reindeer meatballs! 😳 🦌
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Childhood trauma.
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My parents were thrifty and they didn’t like anyone wasting food, because they grew up during the Great depression, so we had to eat everything that was on our plates.
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That’s true for many of us; it is for me. My mother made one meal for everyone …. take it or leave it …. but we had to sit there until we tried it and if we didn’t like it, too bad. Lesson learned and mom never served it again.
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We are definitely from the same generation.
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Oh man!
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It’s the way it was, D.
It also explains a lot about the duty-bound woman my mother became.
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I enjoyed this one, Nancy. These six sentence stories drive me nuts when they are exaggerated sentences 😉
Now, as to the subject, I think, while it may be extreme, yesterday’s kids respected their parents. Today’s kids have a ridiculous leeway and no consequences as well as no respect for anyone. I actually prefer your grandfather to watching some parents today!
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Amen to that and thanks for speaking your mind. I agree.
Kids need direction and to know there are limits and consequences for their actions. Too many have none and we all know where that leads. I raised my kids to be honest and respectful and to toe the line. They turned out rather well, I dare say. AND I never had to hit them (one angry gaze followed by a smack on the arm does not count!) 😀
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Oh yes. I’m sorry but I’ve used corporal punishment… Not more than a smack on the ass… ahem.
They do and my goodness today’s kids (total generalization, of course) have none. When I see these parents negotiating with the little heathens, I want to smack the parents!
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We’ll line up and take turns! 😂😂
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For sure! 😀
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I came from a large family and money was always tight! Food was never to be wasted ….if you refused or didn’t finish a meal it would be served up to you at the next one.
Rules in our house were draconian by today’s standards but it taught us well. The whole family lived through WW2 and rationing, except me I was born after the war. My dad strict as he was never picked a baby out of a chair and dangled is over food on the floor though.
I never really met my Grandparents so can’t comment on them. An old story told well.
Your mother looks beautiful if not defiant. 💜💜💜
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My father never did either, Willow.
I’m sure there were many factors that made my grandfather do what he did, pride included. My mother grew into an adult who never questioned authority and looked upon everything she did in life as her duty, and that includes raising me and my sister.
Is it a simple case of I am the father and you will obey me or does it go deeper than that? These are unanswerable questions but I will not paint my grandfather with too broad a brush. Besides, there’s no one left to tell their side of the story.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts today. 🩶
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you’re right we will never know the whole story. 💜💜
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My parents followed the five-second rule. If you dropped some food on the floor, you had to pick it and eat it up within five seconds. Otherwise, it was to stay on the floor and the dropper of the food was excused from the table.
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My parents followed the 5 hour rule: we kids were expected to eat what was cooked for the family, even if it meant 5 hours of me sitting alone at the kitchen table after dinner, chewing on one goddamn piece of meat until I swallowed it. Mom was tough, even tougher than the meat she cooked, but I was the toughest. And I never swallowed anything I didn’t want to.
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It does come across as something alien to what we think and how we rear children these days but people thought differently in those days. And wasting food was a strict no-no. Well told story
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That’s exactly right, Sadje. It certainly is one way of letting someone know you mean business!
Thanks for your fine comments.
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You’re most welcome my friend
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