Photo credit Kyla Zanardi www.kylazanardi.com

Not many people can say they lived 3 blocks away from their hero. I can. To me, Albino Palladini was that person. And fortunate for me, notonly did I live close to him, I was related to him, raised by him, and watched him day after day, year after year set an example that I always admired. He was the type of hero that made me who I am today. January 8^th 2013 was devastating. I didn’t just lose a grandparent. I lost the most important relationship I’ve ever had; the most important person in my life. I lost my nonno, my hero.

Born in Prossedi, Italy and raised on a buffalo mozzarella farm, my nonno left it all to start a new life for his wife, two daughters and himself. Leaving Italy meant leaving his family for new opportunities. And like many other Italian immigrants, eventually found his way to Toronto. No English. No money. No real plan. However, he did come wearing his heart on his sleeve and to boot he was ready to roll up those sleeves and work, work, work until he was ready to bring his family as well. 4 years went by and finally my nonno had purchased a house with the money he saved and brought over his wife and two children.

Fast forward to July 6^th 1984. I was born. And little did I know at the time that this man who sacrificed so much for his family would now look at me with love and compassion and proudly say (over and over for 28 years), “that’s a my grandsana!” I hadn’t even done shit yet… well maybe I had done literal shit but beyond that not much else, and it didn’t matter.

This man taught me everything. He taught me how to ride a bike at the age of 3. He taught me independence and respect. He taught me the value in being self-sufficient. For Christ’s sake, he baked his own bread, made his own wine, made pasta from scratch, tomato sauce by the gallon, and converted what Canadians called a back yard into a full-fledged fruit and vegetable garden. And I’m not talking an apple tree. He had everything: apples, pears, wine grapes, zucchini, salad, tomatoes, green beans….  I’m pretty sure he invented organics. Just sayin’. I even remember telling him that one of my mangia cake friends had a pool in their back yard. That shit made him laugh. The idea that someone put thousands of dollars to dig a whole and fill it with water just didn’t make sense, especially when his “backiyardi” put Longos produce department to shame.

That’s just the kind of guy he was. I grew up watching this man work all the time, not because he absolutely had to, but because he felt anyone capable of doing must do and those that didn’t were lazy and he had no time for them. This is the man that raised me. Both my parents worked jobs so my nonno and nonna were my caregivers. I attached myself to him. Every single day I followed him and he followed me. Together we made a pretty good team. We’d go bike riding and then I’d watch him work. We’d go to the public pool and then I’d watch him make food from scratch. It’s actually how I fell in love with food. When my friends ate pb&j and kraft dinner, I ate penne with homemade sauce, roasted artichokes and red peppers drenched in red wine vinegar. Can I get an OLE!?!

This is what I thought growing up meant. The more capable I became the more I had to do. I actually started my first business at the age of 12: Snow Angels. I shovelled driveways for seniors in my area.. except for his. God forbid. He work ethic also meant extremely stubborn. He was still shovelling his own driveway up until this past Boxing Day’s snow storm.

 I was the eldest grandchild and we saw each other so much he felt that I was ready for these Don Cherry like daily pep talks. “Matteo, fatte bravo. Work hard and be smart” (he would literally point to his head 3 times when he said be smart) followed by… “and save you money” (that same hand would then dramatically go into his pocket). And here’s the thing about advice like that, how the fuck can you argue with it? Pretty basic shit. The opposite would be lazy, dumb and broke! So how could I argue? My goal in life was to make him proud and always let him know that I was indeed working hard and being smart.

Years later I started Fidel Gastro’s. He was the last person I told. To be honest I was terrified of his reaction. How would he react to me flushing my weekly pay cheque down the toilet? Was this working smart? Surprisingly I got his approval (which actually meant everything). It might have helped that I coupled the new business idea with the fact that I was also in a new relationship with a “bella femina”. How could he hate me now? I was happy.

Last May was a Godsend, my nonno was able to come to one of my popups and see what my business was. It was hot. It was busy. And he loved it. The picture at the top of this blog is him sitting behind me just off to the the right. I looked back at him and was concerned because it was so hot outside. I wanted to make sure he was drinking water. I yelled, “nonno, tutto posto?” he put his non-sandwich hand up near the brim of his cap and smiled his face off. He was great. On his way out he even called out to me… “Matteao, Ole! I was so choked up at this point. The man I looked up to understood what I was doing with my life and he embraced it because he knew I was happy. I quickly yelled back Ole and in turn so did my line.

Unfortunately things got worse for my nonno. He looked and acted less and less like the man that raised me which wasn’t easy to watch. I remember getting ready to leave his house after lunch on Christmas Eve. I hugged him, looked him in the eyes, kissed his big bald forehead, looked him in the eyes again and said I love you, Nonno. He looked back at me and with tears in his voice and said back, “Mattaeo, I love you so much.” I had never heard anyone say those words and mean it so whole-heartedly. This was the last time I saw my grandfather. These were the last words I heard from my hero.

Today we buried him. I cried uncontrollably. My life teacher passed away and now I had to be on my own without his words and wisdom to fall back on. Not only that but I wanted him to see so much more. I wasn’t finished yet. I can’t ever get that bond back. All I can do is live keeping his voice always in the back of my mind. And although the living relationship I had with my nonno is over, now I can’t wait for the day that I have grandchildren of my own so I can tell them the amazing stories of my Nonno Albino.

To the hardest working man I have and will ever know; beloved father, husband, nonno, baker, wine maker, amateur engineer, wannabe dentist, buzz cut stylist to the stars, gardener, saucier, and in my opinion the original hipster…. to my loving nonno Albino, I promise to always cherish our relationship forever, to always make you proud and to always work hard and be smart.

 I love you so much.