2021

Buongiorno bella famiglie, 
First off, the Ohio and now also North Carolina Yaquintos cannot wait to see y’all in Detroit this summer! Another extended family gathering of the Yaquinto, Iaquinto and Iaquinta hug fest. See you soon.
It’s early morning Christmas eve and here I sit doing one of my most favorite things, writing a letter to all of you.
I never really understood the connection between the Wizard of Oz and Christmas. My Mom would always add a trinket or some such movie related collectible (that I wish I had kept) to my gift trove much to my delight as it was and will always be my very favorite movie. The Christmas Story (Ralphie) also has a few Wizard of Oz references smattered throughout the film. Why? I don’t know, but that relation is also a theme for this Christmas letter.
My favorite line from the Wizard of Oz isn’t “there’s no place like home”, it’s actually when the Wizard yells at the Tin Woodsman in the Emerald City palace. He shouts, “You clinking, clanking, clattering collection of caliginous junk, Quiet!” I’ve always loved words and caliginous was new to me and interesting sounding when I was a small child watching intently and hanging onto every scene. It means dark and gloomy like a junkyard, thus its use by the Wizard in berating the innocent Tin Man.
Noise. We hear a lot of it, especially now as we are so connected to the world via our devices. Maybe a younger me wouldn’t think this way but having lived in a time when we dialed a rotary telephone, got most of our news from the newspaper and the only electronic view we had to the outside world was through a black and white television that was very easy to turn off when things got a bit more intense than our young ears and eyes should see, allows for a bit of perspective. Back then my Dad would get up from his (not our, mind you) recliner and say in a voice only a dad could muster, “Ok, that’s enough of that. Go outside”. “But it's ten degrees outside, Dad”. “Don’t be a smart aleck, put on a jacket…and your galoshes…” Different times for sure. I would obey and run outside into a snow filled blanket of safety, successfully redirected from the worst of the nightly news. 
Certainly, I’m delighted with my devices and thankful for social and business media. We have evolved and experienced enlightenment by the global connection and all that technology brings.
But the noise. The white noise of a shrinking world. The clinking, clanging and clattering of that caliginous junk we are dealt day after day. Delivered nonstop, hour after hour, 24/7. It’s hard not to be distracted from the joys of life that happen around us while we are constantly reminded that a message awaits our attention. 
This year, join me by opening a window and shouting in your loudest Wizard voice, “Silence Whippersnappers!”
Whew. That felt good. Except I could clearly hear my mother yelling that all the heat was flying out of the window and something about money not growing on trees. 
Now that we have cleared that up, I’d like to think about focusing more this season on a joyous noise. Italian family noise. The noise of angels. It’s a cacophony that defines us. We hug so loudly, heaven hears us. While our gatherings might still have to be a little smaller this year, that shouldn’t stop us from sharing our memories loudly between forkfuls of pasta and mouthfuls of fresh Italian bread. It shouldn’t quiet the clinking of wine glasses and the clattering of dishes and the clanging of Church bells at midnight. I can hear you all now, retelling family stories that never get old. I can see your kids and their kids all rolling their eyes at stories about the old country and how many miles we all walked to school, and the dreaded wooden spoon, never admitting that they can’t wait to hear you tell them year after year after year. Although in their defense, there are an awful lot of Uncle Tonys and Franks to sort through. And wait, was that Uncle Tony or Uncle Toney. Uncle Frank? Which one? Doesn’t matter just shut up and listen.
The white noise of a groaning world is noisome (another great word). Italian noise is musical. Let’s promise to create a symphony this year. A chorus of glad stories told of our heritage so that our children remember where they came from. A reminder of a time where the noise that blared in their ears was from the coal mine whistle or the factory bell where our ancestors toiled to give us the life we have today. Share a songbook of recipes written in longhand by mothers and grandmothers and prepared over decades of Christmases. 
Tonight, as we bow our heads in a prayer before we sleep, with that pang of excitement we feel for the coming Christmas day no matter how old we become, with our hearts restless and bursting to celebrate the birth of our Savior and share goodness and joy with our dearest family members on the brightest of mornings, we wait. And for that short time, we wait in silence. In quiet anticipation of a renewal of all that can be good in our world. 
Silent night. Holy night. All is calm. All is bright.
Much love and Buon Natale. Ti Voglio Bene. 
Mike

2020

Buongiorno Famiglie!

As this was not, in any way, a normal year, my letter to you is quite different as well. I hope you enjoy it and as always, my heart swells with love for all of you as I write it on this very special morning.

How the Germ Stole Christmas

Everyone around here likes Christmas a lot. But the Germ in 2020 certainly did not!

The Germ hated people of all shapes and sizes. We thought we could beat it but it was full surprises.

The terrible Germ came to us this year and forced us to shutter our towns out of fear.

It blew into our lives from a place far away, but once it took hold, it wanted to stay.

Now our faces are covered, we miss those so dear and this darned thing has caused us to stand not so near.

We sit at virtual meetings instead of our dining room table, the Germ lurks like a creature from an old Aesop fable.

We hate the Germ, we don’t like it a bit, but it stays, yes it stays! It STAYS, STAYS, STAYS, STAYS!

We try Lysol and Wet-Naps and curtail every caper. We even run out of our own toilet paper.

Our health heroes are trying to win every battle, yet the Germ even steals the treats from our mantel.

We don’t want this Germ! Not one little bit! We are sick of the hiding, we are tired of it!

Enough I say. It’s time to be tough. Enough Germ warfare. ENOUGH, NOUGH, NOUGH, NOUGH!

Our hearts can’t be daunted, our love not contained, nothing can stop us, not even this bane.

For there’s a star in the sky, we saw it this week. It’s there for a reason, it’s what we should seek.

A sign from above that guided Three Wise Men. It shines for us now, we can follow it again!

This One Light will heal us and we’ll find a way, to make our Christmases merry and bright anyway.

Our gatherings are smaller, it’s an easy embrace, with all of us saved by His loving grace.

All darkness will pass and we’ll emerge even stronger and our love for each other will last much, much, much longer.

The Germ won’t take Christmas, it WON’T, WON’T, WON’T, WON’T!

It will come without movies, arenas or shows. It will come despite panic, worries or woes.

It will come without curfews, distance or gasps. It will come just like always and it won’t wear a mask.

And we’ll let it in, all of the joy and good feeling! Christmas has no place for the Germ’s ugly dealing.

Welcome Christmas, our doors open wide, come in baby Jesus, we want you inside.

And while we’re asleep, there’s a balm for our plight, as our hopes and our fears will meet Thee tonight.

Sleep tight beautiful family, let your heart grow three sizes. Christmas will come, God’s sun always rises.

Buon Natale e Felice Anno Nuovo

Mike

(A nod to the late Dr. Seuss who will forever remind us to find the good in Christmas)

2019 Christmas Letter 

Rest in peace dear Uncle Toney, your loss is felt deeply by everyone this season. Prayers for peace to Aunt Fran and the family. And you will forever hold the trophy as Famiglie Bocce Ball Champion Extraordinaire.

Good morning beautiful family. Another Christmas Eve has arrived, and I get to do one of my most very favorite things – writing to you all this year.

As most of you know, Carol and I moved from Ohio to North Carolina in June of this year. Now, I do not profess to live in the South. We live on the beach. Much different. However, we do need to drive into what we now lovingly term “the interior” now and then to shop. And that is where this Christmas message begins.

Last year I wrote about change and how Christmas happens wherever you are and that it really happens in your heart. Still true. When I think of Christmas I still (and always will) think of the living room of my parent’s home in Garfield Heights, Ohio. I would venture to say that you all think the very same way about the place you celebrated Christmas as a kid. That small piece of real estate that held the tree, the presents, the decorations, the makeshift dinner table, the family, the visitors, the everything. Oh, and you remember the kitchen of course. Where all the delicious aromas wafted to every corner of the house all week long. The counter top crowded by foil wrapped plates of goodies waiting to be unveiled to the masses.

But this year, it’s patience that I want to write about. Living where I do now has forced me to learn to slow down a little. At first, Carol and I made fun of how long it took just to check out at the grocery store. People in line recount their day and catch up on all sorts of history with someone they hardly know, and the story continues with the clerk as they ring up their purchases. It’s not just the grocery store, it happens everywhere. Everyone offers a kind hello as they pass by and to a person, they ask you how you are doing today and will stand there with you to hear the answer. Even the most stoic offer, at a minimum, a nod of recognition as they walk by.

This practice was quite worrisome initially because I thought I would never, ever get out of any place in this State in a reasonable amount of time. I seemed to always be in a hurry and the last thing I enjoyed was making small talk with strangers.

But then things changed. I began to look forward to these little conversations, and the genuine kindness of folks. I realized that waiting didn’t have to be a bad thing. It’s the hurry that hurts us over time. I have gotten used to spending a few more minutes just chatting. And learning that a smile and a kind word goes a long, long way down here. As it does in every place I guess, I just never took the time to notice.

The Christmas season is a time of waiting. Waiting for the Christ Child to arrive. Advent means, “coming”. We wait from December 1st to December 25th for that Holy arrival. And we wait to feel the joy we feel on every Christmas morning, wherever we are. And the happiness of a family united, if only for a few magical days. We give a year’s worth of heartfelt gifts to delight our loved ones. And in return, we experience the joy of giving. For joy comes organically, not from a box. And we wait for that moment when our loved ones react to the gift that we have been patiently waiting to see unwrapped at last.

We also wait to see each other again, at another reunion, where joy abounds from the simple act of hugging hello. A gathering that reminds us of how very much alike we are. How our heritage will always link us together with a bond that only gets stronger as we grow through our beloved children and our lovingly, Italian style spoiled grandchildren. As we wait, we share our lives via our family Facebook page until that moment when the waiting ends and the celebration of family begins. We wait, but maybe not as patiently as we might promise. Hope to see you all soon.

Buon Natale e Felice Anno Nuovo!

With much love,

Mike

2018

Buongiorno! This Christmas Eve letter has become one of my most favorite things to do for this holiday and having you read it is a gift I look very much forward to receiving every year. 

Change. Sometimes change can be wonderful. Other times it can be difficult. Occasionally, change can be wonderfully difficult. Before I address the change that this letter is about, I want to start with what is unchangeable: The love that pours from this family when we gather at our reunions. This year, our west coast contingent made Hollywood celebrities of all of us. How awesome it was to walk across the red carpet, party like rock stars and hug until our arms hurt. Spending time with each other, getting reacquainted with the young adults that were kids the last time we saw them, stepping back in time like we always do, reminiscing about our childhoods and reveling in the culture that binds us young and old was priceless. A gift to be cherished and remembered always. It amazes me that even as we age, we stay the same. A wrinkle here or there only defines our character. And such characters! Our resemblances are striking. When we were celebrating, it was as if we were one single person. One single Italian tree whose fruit had blossomed and it was harvest time in the orchard. In those moments, united in our heritage and memories, we stood together among our branches, protected from the world around us, steeped in our familial Italian-ness. 

It was hard to leave the shade of that tree but alas, life does have a way of pulling us back. 

And that is where the change I spoke of comes in. Great change certainly occurred when Carol and I returned home from the reunion. In what seemed like a New York minute, we had sold our house, put our stuff in storage and moved to a small condo to wait for what still seems like an eternity for our new house to be built. Not only had we decided to move, we decided to relocate to a completely different state, outside of the Midwest where our roots are so very strong. Away from our family, our friends and our Church. That is a lot to ponder. Yet, of all the work and worry associated with a change as impactful as this was certain to be, we worried most about Christmas. Always a very important holiday when your name ends in a vowel.
 
In the rush to move to our temporary living arrangement everything was hastily packed away and put into storage. The memories that spilled from the same boxes we opened every year were taped shut and out of reach. No decorations meant no tree. No tree meant, well, you get the idea. We felt lost and distanced from what had always been a glorious time of year. It seemed as if the spirit of Christmas would pass us by.

But Christmas is a time for miracles. And peace after a long wait. And that peace came when our son Todd took on the mantle as leader of our family Christmas. It came as naturally to him as it did to us when the time came. Peace. And a new tradition. 

The miracle will happen tonight. Like it has for thousands of years. It doesn’t matter where we celebrate, or what challenges are put in our paths. Christmas happens in our hearts. And that never changes. And tonight, on this blessed eve, the hopes and fears of all the years are left in thee tonight.

Dio benedica questa bellissimo famiglie.

Buon Natale.

Mike

2017

Buon Natale alla mia bellissima famiglia:

 I say it every year, but I can’t believe it is Christmas Eve again and here I sit in front of my laptop writing to you all again. I hope you still enjoy hearing from me in this way. For me, it is how I round out my Christmas spirit and connect with my (our) Italian heritage. 

 Cheese. This year my connection with Christmas is through cheese. Not just any cheese, Locatelli Romano cheese. Grated. Good on everything. I believe I could toss it into Jello and have an out of world experience. I have written in just about every letter I have shared with you that immediately after I finish writing and proofing (proofing is very important because my cugino, David Cratty in Cleveland is a retired professor of English Literature and I can just see his red ink all over this message and yes, David, I know I use way too many commas) and crying over the joy of simply sharing this stuff, Carol and I join the kids and grandkid and head over to our local Italian deli to begin the process: First, open the door and stand there smelling and making noises usually reserved for, well, this is a family letter, but you get it…next, elbow our way to the deli counter after saying Buon Natale and smiling at every single other person in the entire store (they all look like an extended family member), and ask for four pounds of Locatelli. Imported. Yes, I tell the server, I understand I will have to contact the bank for a loan to purchase it but hey, you only live once. And without it, pasta is not pasta, it is just noodles and sauce (gravy). We grab some giant oranges and thanks to Uncle Frank Iaquinto in Detroit, I no longer need to buy soppressata. 
 Quick side note, when Carol and I took our son, Brennen and our grandson Taylor to Detroit to visit the family up there this summer, I got to talking to Uncle Frank about my love of soppressata. I could write a lot more about how simply we naturally transitioned from kids and job to Italian meat, but I don’t have all day. Luck would have it that he makes his own. Like semi-professionally. Like they built a special shed to dry-cure it. He offered to bring me some. The answer was an immediate and resounding YES!. He lives close by and offered to deliver a few “sticks” to the hotel we were staying at. The next morning, I get a text from the lobby. It’s Frank. My grandson, having heard me say it a hundred times the night before says in his best tough guy, New Jersey Italian accent, “Hey Papa, Uncle Frank is in the lobby with the meat sticks”. So, we get to the lobby and there he is. Golf shirt. Golf hat. Khaki shorts. Unlit cigar. Cup of coffee. 2 meat sticks in a brown paper bag. We sit down, chat a little over coffee, and the hand-off is made. No one sees. We say our goodbyes, Frank looks around, and walks out the door like nothing happened. I hear Godfather music in my head. The soppressata? Amazing. The old country packed into a sausage-sized roll of deliciousness. 
 But I digress, thanks again Frank, but I need to get back to the cheese. I have been buying four pounds of cheese for years. And the best part of it is that we make it all the way to the next Christmas Eve before it is gone. Some years just days before the deadline but we use it all up. Every bit of it. Except for this year. We have 2 mason jars left over. Make the sign of the cross here with me. Now, I believe we might use at least half of one for Christmas Eve dinner at Todd’s house but that still leaves unenjoyed cheese. That tells me, we didn’t cook enough pasta. That tells me maybe we didn’t get together with family enough. That tells me that the world got in the way and that is not the way Italians react. That tells me that I am going to buy more not less this year and have way more dinners with friends and family. 
 And that brings me to the point of this year’s letter. Whatever is dear to you, use it. All of it. It won’t be there one day, and you will be so glad you pulled all the joy you could from it while it was there. Use all of the cheese. Love each other until it hurts. Forgive and forget, remember and cherish. Teach our heritage to your children lest they lose it. Remind them that the people that came here on a ship with nothing but their clothes, a few meat sticks and maybe a hunk of cheese in their tattered suitcases came for them. That they left their spouses and children to travel across the world and build a life in a place they knew nothing about except for stories of opportunity. Make certain they know that the arduous oceanic trip our ancestors suffered through was worthy. That their proud climb up the steps to the immigrant inspection station at Ellis Island so very long ago was truly for us. This story never ends now that they opened the book for us. Tell it.
 No place is perfect, not even our own homes sometimes, but tonight is different. Tonight, we go to Church and we hear the story of Mary telling us that the world is about to turn because of one tiny baby. Tonight, we share a meal and we talk of the seven fishes. Tonight, we put the finishing touches on the giving we have planned and await the smiles we get in return. And tonight, magic happens as we sleep. I wish all of you the most precious Christmas morning when all our dreams just might come true. Amore. Tanto Amore. E Felice Anno Nuovo. 

Ciao,

Mike in Cleveland.

2016

Felice la vigilia di natale, la mia bellissima famiglia:
Good morning! I usually open with a line about how time flies, but it really does. I can remember last year clear as day, writing to you this day as I always do, sitting in this same chair, waiting to go to Divitis Italian grocery store to pick up 4 pounds of grated Locatelli Romano cheese, a few loaves of bread and some big oranges for the stockings.  And I do hope you enjoy reading this annual letter, I certainly enjoy writing it!
So much has gone on in our world in 2016, it’s easy to be overwhelmed and to lose focus on what is truly important. So, take a breath, warm up your coffee and let’s spend just a few minutes together focusing on family.
This June, the Cleveland Yaquintos hosted the Iaquinta, Iaquinto e Yaquinto family reunion. 140 hugging, kissing, loving Italians converged in Twinsburg, Ohio for a celebration of our heritage. From the moment the first guest arrived, our hearts swelled in unison. I can’t say that happens at all family gatherings; what a blessing it was to experience such unconditional love. Everyone had traveled, some very far, to attend the event and share an experience unique in these times. Some of us knew each other and had met at previous reunions, for others it was a first-time meeting. Regardless of the familiarity, each encounter was the same: A huge smile, a look of wonderment that this was really happening and a giant hug and smooch. It was such a thrill to see so many of us together in one place. I was most impressed by the kids. All of them must have felt that this was a big deal in their own way. The sense of the importance of meeting and getting to know their extended family was strong. I witnessed no shyness from any of them. Certainly, a result of strong parenting and an instilment at an early age of the story of us and where we all came from. They reacted with the same wonderment, huge smile and giant hugs as the rest of us. What joy!!
I remember so clearly the party at my house when I looked up from the grill and saw a sea of happy faces crammed on the deck, the porch and naturally, in the kitchen, all so content to be spending the day with cousins and uncles, aunts, grandparents and spouses in our little speck in the world, far from home, where only the moment mattered and that we were sharing it together. Of course, Uncle Toney held court from his lofty position on the porch overlooking the festivities with a smile. I got the ultimate Italian compliment from him. “Hey, nice place. You did good!”. We all did good. More than good, we were awesome!
We had our own Christmas that weekend. Christmas in June. Where joy ruled. Where the waiting was worth it. Where people traveled from afar to witness something truly blessed. Our ancestors smiled from their perch high above us in Heaven. The time passed quickly and we all longed for just a few more hours together but in that time we shared, we were one. 
I am sad when I think of how long the wait will be until we meet again but like all good things, it will be worth it. 
Tonight, after the last-minute errands are run, Christmas Eve service is over and the dinner is eaten (fish included, of course), and I lie awake and wait for Christmas with childlike anticipation of what is to come, I will think of you, beautiful family. I will remember my parents especially, and those who can no longer join with us on that glorious morning.  They gave us all our splendid childhood Christmas memories. And I wish you happiness as you share gifts with your children, many of whom now I have met, and my heart will be warmed by knowing that one day, they will write to us of their own memories. The ones that you are making right now.
Buon Natale la mia famiglia!
Mike

2015

Happy Christmas Eve! - I look forward to seeing you at the 2016 reunion in Cleveland this coming summer. I ask that you e mail this message to anyone in our family that might not be in this group - I was asked last year to make sure this annual Christmas greeting went to family that are not on FB - thanks! As always, I hope this letter brings back memories of your Italian Christmas past. Ciao.

The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight.

Powerful words for a powerful season. It’s been a difficult year in our world and those words give me peace. Maybe tonight, on this Christmas Eve, they will do the same for you. Peace to our beautiful Italian family. Peace on the earth.

Every year, it is memories from my childhood that fuel my Christmas spirit. 

Looking back, I remember how many people were crammed into those little bungalow style house living rooms over the holidays. The tree and the crèche were the focal points of course, and the kitchen was command central. I had the great pleasure of having almost all of my aunts, uncles, cousins and both sets of Grandparents living on the same street. What a gift that was! I could walk from one end of the street to the other to visit and believe me, at the end of that walk I knew I was loved, cherished and well fed!

And the decorations. Yikes. We had a giant plastic Santa-head poster that we would tape (my dad used masking tape mind you, then duct tape when that new aged miracle was available to lay people) to the living room wall. The overall design theme in our house was heavy on Santa and light on Jesus but both were ultimately represented. Tinsel. Lots of tinsel. I am pretty sure my mother bought it by the pound. Like pine needles, it wound up in every corner of the house. Big, red hot, flammable tree lights were plugged into old brown extension cords powered by the single working outlet in the living room (also used to power lamps, the ever-present heating pad and a crock pot with extra food in case the President showed up) to make the season and the entire room bright.

And speaking of bright. My dad loved cameras. His “super eight” battery driven 8mm amateur film wonder had a light bar on it. Stephen Spielberg would have been jealous of this awesome piece of cinematic equipment (I still have the camera and will keep it forever). At the still dark six in the morning when I woke up, and after a bout of the dry heaves (hey, I was excited...) to open a room full of individually wrapped presents, I am certain that planes could land on our driveway. On Christmas Eve and Day as we did our road trips, he always had a willing cast of characters to film as every single person in our extended family would transform into a seasoned Hollywood movie star when a camera was put in front of them. Out came the fake nose glasses, hot dogs (you could call them wieners back then without a chuckle or blush) and feather boas that would magically appear out of someone’s closet. Hats were donned, babies were held high (and sometimes thrown gently between uncles but that is a story for another time – spoiler: no baby was ever harmed, at least none I never heard about it) and the scene played out in tiny rooms in front of food and dessert laden card tables. The black and white console TV would lose its vertical hold as the room shook with the activity. Even Nani and Nanu (our name for our beloved grandmother and grandfather) would join in the fun. Nani’s role was typically the antagonist wielding a wooden spoon. She always had one on her person so there wasn’t much acting involved. I don’t know where she kept them. Nanu would sit in a wooden chair and get a butter knife shave from one of the uncles.

Watching those old movies is a treat. I am so happy I grew up in the environment I did. The old generation molded us into the people we are today. Proud of our heritage and steeped in our ethnic traditions. Fighters unafraid of hard work and long hours. Always ready to help a neighbor and armed with a huge stash of hugs and kisses, knowing that we came from such humble beginnings. It was the bravery of the brothers and their families that came here first that I value the most. Leaving everything they knew and loved behind, they came here to build a life. Our life today. These traits continue and are in our very DNA. And we pass it to our children. 

Lift a glass of cheer tonight Yaquinto, Iaquinta and Iaquinto family. Saluti! To the family that came before us. To the birth of our Lord and Savior. To our children. Let them never forget where they come from. 
Buon Natali.

2014

CHRISTMAS 2014 LETTER

Buongiorno Famigliel It seems, to me anyway, that it takes less and less time for the year to pass and here I sit again, so excited for the day, for the season and for this chance to write another family letter. I do this every Christmas Eve with the hope of sharing some of the Italian goodness that brings us together as one as we celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I guess you could say that this letter has become a tradition. And that is what I want to write about today. Collectively, we have had our share of challenges this year. The news is rife with bad news, we are served a platter of fear and hatred and all sorts of craziness on a daily basis, especially now that we all are so very connected to the outside world in so many ways. But at home, in our Italian family, it's warm in the kitchen because the oven has been on for days in preparation for the celebration. The decorations are in place and they came out of old boxes (who needs Rubbermaid?) stuffed with memories of cousins and grandchildren and kids and parents. Our trees are donned with glitter covered paper plates and pipe cleaner art and embarrassing pictures of our kids when they were funny looking, yet beautiful because all of are kids are. We all dug through the nest of tree lights and exactly half of each string works so we swear that it is a conspiracy and head out to the store to find another string and only find the ones left that have white wire, not green - who makes those things? And after we clean up the mess, the tree looks exactly the same as it does every year. And that feels right. The house even smells right doesn't it? The generosity and kindness that eludes us more easily in other months, is readily offered. Hugs, kisses, handmade presents, and the fellowship of friends and family is the tradition. Love is the tradition. Our heritage has instilled in us our distinction as Italians. The world is loud but we are louder. Our traditions speak of our place in this world. Of our faith and the absolute importance of family. So you think you are loud when you all get together? I say good - be even louder this year, loud enough for the neighbors to hear! Spread that Italian Cheer and let the world know that Italian families rock! Buon Natale, everyone. I hope you get everything you wished for this Christmas. Now I have to leave for a wonderful tradition - I have to visit Devitis in Akron to buy the 5 pounds of Lucatelli Romano cheese I need to make it through the next 12 months. That is a tradition I could never, ever live without.

Mike Yaquinto from the Cleveland Yaquintos

2013

Christmas 2013 Letter to Famiglie - Mike Yaquinto Has another year really passed us by? Here I sit, looking out my window at 5:14 in the morning, new snow revealed in the ambient light, and on this day, only because it is Christmas Eve, I am glad for it; for Christmas should have snow. Being up this early reminds me of how excited I would become in the hours before Christmas morning. I would be up before dawn knowing that Santa had filled the room with presents. The excitement and anticipation was overwhelming. I would have what my Mom called the "dry heaves" as I could not calm down. And yet, I would wait and wait until I was allowed admission to the front room, where all my dreams magically came true in a flash of torn paper and enthusiastic thank you's. My Dad would be holding his ever-present super eight camera with a blinding light bar so bright planes could land by it, recording my every move for posterity. Gosh was I spoiled! I got everything I asked for, year after year. Christmas was my Mom's passion and I was the sole benefactor of that determination, until of course, i had my own children and they became the muses for her Christmas extravaganzas. I have written of Christmas memories to this wonderful famiglie every year for more than a few years now in hopes that you are reminded of your Italian Christmases over the years. This year, I remember Cheese. Yes, Cheese. My Mom would always buy locatelli pecorino Romano cheese. For as long as I can remember, that is the only cheese we have ever put on our spaghetti, and to this day, I think of her every time I open the plastic container, take a deep whiff and load it into meatballs or bread crumbs or…to me, that cheese is my connection to the meals of my youth and the kitchen of Carmella Yaquinto. I miss her so. Especially on her day, on Christmas eve. This is also my favorite day. How could it not be? My family made this so. With love and laughter and food and gifts. All the while remembering why we were celebrating in the first place. And knowing that on this night, on this most glorious of eves, the hopes and fears of all the years, are met in Thee tonight. God bless the Yaquinto, laquinto and laquinta famiglie. May your Christmas be merry and bright!! Love to you all. Mike Yaquinto, Cleveland Yaquintos.

2012

Another year. I think they get shorter as 1 age. I can remember sitting right here writing last year's message like it was just a few weeks ago. This year, instead of memories, I think about the traditions we have formed in our own families - old and new - and how they continue to stay deeply rooted in out Italian heritage. Last night, my son, Brennen, decided to make homemade ravioli. The kitchen was buzzing, there was flour everywhere. Carol and I were pulled into the process too. With all that is going on around outside of our homes, news of violence and crumbling family values, the healing smells of a busy kitchen can do wonders to isolate us from those things - if only for a few hours. Searching together for Christmas trees, last minute shopping and messages back and forth for gift ideas. Family gatherings that fill the house with the laughter of those little ones that, thankfully, keep our heritage growing. Going to church with everyone in tow and taking up a whole pew section. And, of course, the food. Prepared either by the memory of annual tradition or taken from the stained and yellowed recipe cards we cherish from our mothers and grandmothers. We all have "the box" right? So First - thanks to God and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ on the celebration of His birth. Second, what a blessing it is to watch the eyes of our young ones light up as they hear the tale of Santa Claus and anticipate the treasure underneath the paper wrapping they will never learn to carefully open. Oh, and the huge orange they will undoubtedly get in their stocking. And finally, thanks for the blessing of this extended family, Italian in its roots and strong in its value system. One that we should be proud of and anxious to pass on to our children. Buon Natale y Felice Anno Nuovo!

Mike Yaquinto - Cleveland Yaquintos

2011

Christmas wishes from Cleveland Hello awesome Italian family. I hope you'll endulge me for yet another year with a few Italian Christmas memories. It is this time of year that I think of our heritage and our culture most. If you think about it, we were all raised by the same parents, they were just in different bodies and different houses. Same values, same work ethic, same unconditional love of family and friends and food. I came across a recipe last night, written in my mother's familiar script, a few entries crossed out and adjusted as all of them were working documents, and I was filled with memories of her Christmas kitchen. The wonderful smells, the bustle she made, the pile of pots and pans in the sink that she used to create the magic she put on the table. And, looking up after reading it, I sat back and realized that my lovely wife was doing the very same thing. All was right in the world for that moment. Our ancestors got it right didn't they? Christmas is a celebration of our Savior's birth. And all celebrations come with food no? Our mothers would have it no other way. Love to all and Merry Christmas! Mike and Carol Yaquinto from Cleveland.

2010

It's Christmas again! I wrote something last year on Christmas eve but thought I would send well wishes and memories a day early this year. I find myself sitting here thinking of our family members who have passed. I ask that we all take a few moments this year to remember them and their vitality. Their radiant smiles and welcoming arms. Fond memories of meals prepared and served with such genuine love. Their absolute commitment to keeping our history and ancestry alive. For continuing to speak in Italian (even if only when they were yelling about something) and for being our storytellers. For instilling in our hearts what it is to be Italian. For teaching us to worship and give thanks to God, to love and live passionately, to honor our parents, to repect our family, to work hard and if accepting help in a time of need, doing so with humility and a promise of a return favor. To look our blessings in the eye and know where they truy came from and finally, for making Christmas such a special and magical time for all of us! Love to all of you in this awesome, Italian (by blood or marriage, it matters not) familia. Buon Natalie Felice Ano Nuovo! Oh, and one more thing - check out this link - are we related to anyone here? If so, I'm thinking next reunion: Palazzo laquinto