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Italian American Life - Frank Di Piero

Episode 150 – Italian Born Lord Nil, A Professional Escape Artist and Master of Ritual Performance and the star of “Seven Deadly Sins”

Italian Born Lord Nil, A Professional Escape Artist and Master of Ritual Performance and the star of “Seven Deadly Sins”.

Recorded: July 19, 2025

Grandma’s Home Remidies

Check out Ed’s blog - edwrites.net

I was on a conference call with an Italian organization, and we discussed some of the ways immigrants managed their health care. They didn’t have much, so they improvised.

Italian grandmothers passed down countless home remedies through generations; many rooted in practical wisdom, an abundant use of Mediterranean ingredients, and a whole bunch of superstition.

The remedies reflect the Italian philosophy of using what's available, emphasizing simple, natural ingredients that have been trusted for centuries. They had little else.

What did the Italians do in America during the 1918 Spanish flu epidemic? Lacking any cure or prevention, they relied on home remedies like garlic tied around the neck or camphor ---- a precursor to today’s Vicks ---- also applied around the neck or under the nose. We might find these remedies curious, but they were all they had to fight a disease they didn't understand, which, sadly, claimed thousands of lives.

It reminded me of my grandmother’s cures when I was a kid.

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As soon as Grandma heard that any of her grandchildren were sick, she appeared like magic, rushing into the room with an evil-banishing gold horn swinging like a pendulum from a necklace. In her collection were brave remedies imported from Pollutri, her town in the province of Chieti, Italy. Her cures were strange, ritualistic, and not fun.

She reassured me. I protested and lost.

For a sore throat, her remedy was beaten egg whites soaked in a cloth (mopine), wrapped around my neck, and fastened with a large safety pin. After a while, the mopine became stiff, as hard as a layer of ice. “You feel-a better?”

I lied.

Warm milk with a pinch of honey before bed as a soporific.

Cool cucumber slices for puffy eyes or minor burns

A cold potato on a burn or its peels for a headache. Garlic cloves for a toothache; crushed Octagon soap mixed with sugar for a boil; heated and melted camphor on the chest for a cough.

When Grandma believed that illness was caused by supernatural forces or people with evil intent who released the evil eye, the mal’occhio (“malooka”), she went into action at high gear. Because the look was strong enough to cause ill health in the victim, she believed it could only be neutralized by performing the “malooka” ritual. She pointed her inverted first and last fingers downward in the shape of a horn, dropped oil on water, made the sign of the cross, and read the pattern.

If the oil separated, the sickness was not mal’occhio. If the oil spread in a single layer, that was proof of the evil eye’s work.

Here’s a beaut for the Poison Ivy slam, something I contracted readily. “Ed-a-Wood, you take-a some of these-a weeds, Pee on them and splasha ovah the poison.” I made a quick turn on the ball of my Keds and hustled out of the garden, scratching all the way home. Nah. I’druthur scratch.

What a bumfuzzle for me!

Christianity and modern-day medicine forced Grandma to (sort of) abandon her practices, but never to disbelieve or distrust them. The one thing she remained convinced of was the importance of a decontaminated bowel.

A clean bowel meant a good feeling and good health. Vile-tasting castor oil was her favorite tonic for everything: fever, pain, rashes, aches, falls, constipation, even diarrhea. It was also a safeguard.

On occasion, even when we were well, she dosed up. How well I remember standing pole-like, arms by my sides, fists clenched, lips pursed, then mouth open on command. Gulp ‘errgh, down it went! Not long after, it came out with a vengeance. From outside the bathroom door, Grandma asked, “Ed-a-wood, you feela good now?”

I won’t dare tell you about her use of the dreaded enema, the cure-all. I’ll leave you to think about it. Suffice it to say that it’s a good thing the bathroom was nearby.

Ahhh . . . she had a soft, sweet smile . . .

It all worked, I guess. I am alive to tell it.

Copyright 2025

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