Yesterday we laid Aunt Millie to rest.
Surely everyone has an "Aunt Millie" somewhere -- or an Aunt Peg or Aunt Helen or Aunt somebody or other.
But our Aunt Millie was one-of-a-kind.
And, to the best of our knowledge she was the last surviving aunt among all the many aunts and uncles that populated my father's side of the family.
I could tell plenty of stories about Aunt Millie.
But here's the way her son (my cousin, Richard) told it yesterday at Millie's funeral mass:
When Carmella “Millie” Belmonte married Enrico “Henry” Cirucci, they honeymooned for three nights in New York City, in a hotel room that cost six dollars a night.
Their lives had a mirror quality to them, since Millie had seven sisters and two brothers, and Henry had seven brothers and two sisters. Both were incredibly close with their siblings. While Henry was a soldier in World War II, Millie lived with Henry’s brother Danny and his wife, Dolly in Camden.
When Henry returned from the war, they lived at 842 S. Third St. and later at 1304 Dayton Street, both in Camden. It was a time when all of their siblings lived close to each other.
Around 1956, Millie & Henry made a decision that was considered crazy -- they moved to the country; to a town called Audubon, four-and-a-half miles down the White Horse Pike from Camden. Despite the “great distance,” the family stayed close and visitors filled the home often- much to Millie’s delight. She was a warm, wonderful person who loved company and enjoyed entertaining. Her passion was cooking… her hobby was setting the table… and both were done frequently and with great joy.
Guests would begin by collecting in her tiny kitchen, then migrate to the dining room- while reserving the kitchen space as “the kids table”. There was always an abundance of food, a warm jug of red wine from the steps of the attic, and plenty of laughter.
Summertime, the crowd would shift out to the yard, where the grill was hot and the screen house was packed.
And on Christmas Eve, there was only one place you would find Millie’s family -- in her basement. No this wasn’t a punishment- it was an EVENT. The room was about 45 feet long by 15 feet wide… with a “paisan kitchen” on one end and a bar at the other. A table that seated 20 comfortably ran the length of the room. The decor was courtesy of a “Two Guys” closeout, with a mismatched tile floor, year round twinkle lights and knotty pine wallpaper. Let’s just say, if you’re one of the many to have had a meal down there, you know it was a room you’ll never come across again. And you know how lucky you were to have had the experience.
Raising her two children, Richard and Carole, was Millie’s greatest accomplishment. Both have wonderful childhood memories. While the home was full of love, she was no pushover. Mildred would not hesitate to offer a firm hand (otherwise known as a “shellackin”) if her children got out of line. Carole, the athlete of the family, was more adept at running around the dining room table to avoid a beating. At some point, Millie would offer up a hand bite… the official Italian mother sign for “game over.”
Millie was overjoyed when Richard and his wife Valerie gave her two beautiful grandchildren- Colleen and Rick. Once, after an evening of watching baby Ricky, she met Rich and Val at the door and said: “Take this baby back! He started crying, turned blue and passed out. This child nearly KILLED ME!”
At first, the family thought she was exaggerating, but soon after, Ricky did demonstrate his little baby drama for others. Fortunately, he eventually grew out of it. Unfortunately, his first performance was a solo show for Millie- an experience she never forgot.
Millie spent her summers at the shore, even though she hated the sun and never got her hair wet. She and her sister, Ceil, considered themselves the official family caterers of Ocean City. By 7 am every morning, there was a menu displayed outside of 3629 West Avenue, identifying the day’s meal plan. And the family was regularly pulled off the beach because Millie had crespelle soup and hot turkey dinner waiting back at the house- at 3:30 pm… on a weekend… in August!
If you asked Millie, she considered her career to be that of a wife, mother, grandmother and homemaker. But she also worked in a wig factory, at Campbells Soup and RCA. However, her greatest professional expression came when she worked as a seamstress at Julie’s bridal shop in Audubon in the 1980’s and early ‘90s. She was so talented, she even redesigned her own wedding gown so that her grand daughter, Colleen, could wear it proudly 50 years later.
Still later, she embraced her role as great-grandmother to her five beautiful great-grandchildren- Jordan, Justin, Katie, Anna & Michael. They all called her “Gram” and their pictures covered most of the surfaces of her apartment.
Millie could party with the best of them -- she was famous for performing the “Millie Walk Dance” -- a move she broke out at every family event. When her health began to turn, we worried that she might not make it to see Christmas, 2010. Yet she made it to the Feast of the Seven Fishes at Carole‘s on Christmas Eve, drove down to the shore with Richard later that night, had brunch at Colleen’s on Christmas morning, played the Wii with Jordan, had dinner with Rich, Val and friends, was driven back to Voorhees Assisted Living on the tail of a big snowstorm. The next day, Carole called her to see if she had a chance to catch up on her rest after such a busy couple of days and Millie said, “Were going to have to talk about this for next year -- I think it’s terrible – all of you leaving me alone at the holidays”. Even in the face of failing health, all she wanted to do was be with her family.
When she couldn’t go to them, her family would, and did come to visit her at Voorhees Assisted Living. It brought her great joy to have company, and even in her last weeks and months, she insisted that everyone eat when they stopped by. That included the staff, who filled her days with happiness and compassionate care when others weren’t around.
It was a blessed life indeed.
Millie passed away on Thursday, March 3rd - quietly, peacefully and without pain.
She often said that her life was very satisfying.
The memories we all have are priceless.
And I speak on her behalf when I say that both she, and we, are all incredibly grateful that you all played a part in this happy life. Thank you.
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