I REMEMBER NANA'S RECIPES - CHAPTER 1

I remember Nana’s recipes!


CHAPTER 1

This has been such a unique journey for me and usually

when you take an expedition there is a road map and goals.

I do not recall any road map or goal setting. The only goal

I can recall was my Mother constantly saying “I

pray to the good Lord that some day he will send you a

wonderful man to take care of you.” Well I am getting

ahead of my story. Let’s go back to the beginning of the

journey.

I was born in Utica, New York on September 22, 1941.

I always said that I arrived on the scene first then Pearl

Harbor. I was named Jacqueline Eileen (a.k.a.

“Jackie”) My family name was Marasco. This was the

beginning of my non-traditional ways. I should have been

named Rose Mary, Angela, Mary Rose as Jacqueline Eileen did

not fit the given name for an Italian American female.

My mother loved that name and for many years I did not care

for this name until Jacqueline Kennedy came onto the scene

and I recognized the beauty of the name.


Especially when Mrs. Kennedy went to Paris and the

Parisians were screaming “Zack – ee.”

My mother’s name was Isabelle Jeannette Scalise.

a.k.a. “Belle”) Marasco. She was born in Utica, New York.

My father’s name was, Joseph Anthony Marasco. (a.k.a.

“Joe”) He was born in Italy and settled in Utica with his

parents when he was six years old.

As a young girl, I just felt that life had dealt me a

bad deck of cards. When I was seven years old, my father

was diagnosed with terminal cancer. He was thirty-nine

years old when he died. My mother was a widow at thirty-

four. I am an only child. After the death of my father,

my mother’s and my life emotionally and financially turned

upside down. My father’s death changed the course of our

lives. The impact that it had on me losing the most

important male role model at that stage of my life made

a lasting impression on me.

The era was the ‘50s. Single parenting was out; no

one had heard of a latchkey kid. The scene was supposed to

be “Life with Father,” “Make Room for Day,” “Father Knows

Best.” Daddy earns the money; Mom stays home to take care

of the kids. My mother, with her creative mind, wanted to

earn income and stay at home to raise me.

She did something that at the time horrified me but for

which today I have great admiration.


It is indicative of the woman activist she was and where I

got my feminist roots. We lived in a highly residential

neighborhood in Utica, New York. She wanted to put a

grocery store on the enclosed porch of our home to sell

milk, eggs, bread, coffee, and a variety of sundry items

because directly across the street from the house was the

first wave of garden apartments being constructed. Well

with very little capital and good credit, she started her

neighborhood store and it worked. This was probably the

first woman owned home-based business of its kind. There

was cash flow and a good business model. This went on for

almost three years. Then the neighbors started to get

nervous. They feared, “Today a grocery store, tomorrow a

shopping mall.” All of a sudden there were numerous zoning

board meetings and finally legal violations, and a city

judge ordered her to cease and desist – a $50 fine or 30

days in the Utica jail. My Mother took the position that

if a male judge would send a widow to jail who wants to

support her daughter, then she would refuse to pay the fine

and go off to the city jail. That is exactly what

happened. To make matters worse my grandmother and

grandfather on my father’s side lived directly across the

street from the Utica City Jail.


My Mother’s stand caused havoc between her

family and my father’s family.

The afternoon that she was admitted to the jail, my family

brought me over to see her at the jail to try to convince

her to come home. I was crying hysterically. The jail

“keeper” brought my mother to a visiting area and there was

the screen between the two of us just similar to what one

would see in the movies and I was crying “Mother please

come home.” She looked at me sternly and was very

articulate and showed no emotion and said: “Jackie, I want

you to go home with Grandma and Grandpa – you do not

realize today what I am doing but someday you will.” I

followed her orders and went home with my grandparents.

There were several $50 bills flying around to get her out

of jail. Finally, the next day she agreed to have the fine

paid and was released. Shortly, thereafter, we moved to

Rochester, New York. It seems that my Mother was just too

assertive and aggressive for the Utica, New York turf and

her family encouraged her to get a change of scenery. The

truth is her family felt my Mother was just too hot for Utica.







We left our home and most of our personal possessions

including my precious Cat, Tipper, who I left with my

Mother’s sister, Aunt Nicky. We packed our Nash Rambler

with the most important items such as our round, black and

white screen television and drove to

Rochester as she had three sisters living there. They

were more like step-sisters than sisters. They were

very self-centered and nasty women. They never helped my

mother. Why were they like this? They were beautiful

women and bright but the traditional role they

chose made them feel unfulfilled. They felt trapped

They resented my mother’s courage.

The rest of our personal possessions where either stored

in the unattached garage in the back of the house in Utica

or remained in the house for many years untouched with dust

accumulating. It was not until the 80’s when some of my

cousins on my father’s side of the family brought much of

the furniture from Utica to Rochester and I had several

pieces reupholstered and still in the 21st Century

have them in my home.

When my mother left Utica she was dejected and a new

personality emerged – low - profile – non-activist but

today I applaud and praise her for the courageous stand she

took.
This incident was never discussed by my family.

It was a dark, deep secret and my Mother was

considered to be the black sheep of the family.

My Mother died June 5 1991. She never remarried but

in 1990 she went into an adult assisted living home. This

is where she meets a man around her age, seventy-seven, and

she fell in love. I had the honor to share with my mother

her joys of falling in love. This was not a mother and

daughter dialogue, but two women engaged in profound

conversation about the opposite sex. It was wonderful. Of

course, the gentleman was more aggressive and wanted to

have sex with my Mother. He assumed the value of their

relationship was to achieve closeness while my mother wanted

to share in emotional talk. He wanted to take her away

for a weekend. I would encourage her to go but she would

always say to me: “Jackie, if I saw a man’s penis, I would

have a heart attack.” Thus, as far as I knew, the

relationship never went beyond hugging and kissing.

At this stage of my mother’s life, she turned over all

authority to me. This was very unique for me. The roles

changed drastically. Any decisions to be made relative to

her health care were totally left to me. I have no

regrets taking care of my mother.


She took care of me for the first eighteen years and I was

responsible for her for the next thirty-two years.

Some how – some way – I was able to live two lives. The

life my mother wanted me to live and the life I wanted. So

We both won.

At my mother’s memorial service, I gave the eulogy and

this was the first time my mother’s 24 hour experience in

jail was ever revealed. I needed to let my community know

what a unique and wonderful woman my mother was.

A few days after the Memorial Service I went to the

adult care home to get her personal possessions and I found

a brown envelope with my Mother’s handwriting entitled,

“Belle’s Recipes”. I never knew she recorded these recipes.

As I continue with the story I will insert my

Mother’s great recipes in her own handwriting or

typewritten by my Mother on a manual typewriter. These are

the recipes of life and of good home cooking.













THIS IS THE BROWN ENVELOPE I FOUND THE RECIPES

I REMEMBER NANA'S RECIPES

I REMEMBER NANA’S RECIPES

RECIPES FOR LIFE

BY

JACQUELINE “JACKIE” MARASCO-LANEY-DIBELLA


This book has been roaming around in my head

for over twenty years. In 1986 my second husband,

John, my son, Robert, and I went to see the movie,

Out of Africa, written by Isak Dinesen (a.k.a.

Karen Blixen). As we were leaving the movie

theater, my son said: “Mom you should write a

book, you have had more occurrences in your life

than Karen Blixen.” In the spring 2008, Robert

again said to me “Mom, why don’t you sit down and

write your book.” Thus, my son’s comments got me

motivated to sit down and start writing about

the ingredients of my life. I have lived the

majority of my life in the second half of the

Twentieth Century when the core beliefs and values

were unusual and different to today’s standards.

I have been told many times that I am a survivor.

I have always felt that it was not the mistake but

the recovery. I have been forced many times

to pick myself up – brush myself off and start all

over again. There are no other choices but to do

that. I never sweat the big stuff or the

little stuff. It takes minute gestures to make

life wonderful. This has been my formula for

living. I have been called capricious, whimsical.

passionate, motivating, stimulating, inspiring,

free spirited and “nuts.” That is me! I hope this

book and my life helps, stirs many into a positive

direction. Life will always have its ups and

downs. It is easy to deal with life’s ups – it

takes great audacity to face life’s valleys.

This is a chronicle written by a woman for

women but also for men to be aware of the

complexity of the other gender. Women are much

more personal and open about their thoughts,

feelings, and fears than the male gender.

Women can only hope that their male partners will

voluntarily reciprocate with self-disclosure. Both

men and women value friendship and romantic

relationships, but they are quick to express

closeness in different ways. This is an American

saga of a young girl losing the most important male

role model in her life and spending the rest of her

life trying to replace him and how she took on non-

traditional roles to be in control of her life or

perhaps just to subsist. A life that has made

many twists and turns.

The narrative will examine why some of us craft

the choices that we cause. I have had many

mountains and challenges in my lifetime but a very

successful business person in my community once

told me: “Jackie, there is always a key to unlock

the door.” There will always be challenges in our

lives but it so important to find the right key

to unlock the door to that challenge. My modus

operandi is that love prevails and it does! I am a

quintessential romantic.

This book is dedicated to several people who changed the course of my life:

My Mother and Nana, Isabelle Jeannette Scalise

Marasco – Thank you for being so courageous and

non-traditional. Thank you for your recipes of life

and food for the soul.

My father, Joseph Anthony Marasco – Thank you

for allowing me to know that you loved me. You

showed me how much you adored me and even today I

can still feel that love and adoration. Your love

allowed me to not be afraid to love.

My Uncle Norm, Norman Forman – Thank you for

introducing Manhattan – Broadway – front row center

– Cabaret and the spirit to live – live and live.

Thank you for being the rock of Gibraltar for Nana,

Robert and me.

My first love, Thank you for being my first

love. Thank you for always being there for me.

You gave me a passion and hunger to educate myself.

You opened the windows of the world for me to

obtain my education. Love can make the summer fly

or a night seem like a lifetime. Love can turn

one’s world around and the world seems as if it

will last forever. Love can make days seem longer

and words mean more. Love can make pain deeper than

before. Love can bring you glory and bring you

shame. Love can make you break rules that you

have lived by. Love can change everything and

nothing in the world will ever be the same. Thank

you for being my first love.

My first husband, William “Bill” Laney – Thank

you for our wonderful son, Robert. Thank you for

giving me the opportunity to travel the world.

Thank you for introducing the world of

communication to me

My second husband, John DiBella. Thank you for

your love and security. This may sound alarming

and unusual to some readers but your death was your

gift to me. For the gift of your death gave me

the opportunity to commence comprehending the death

of my father that was so sealed into my

subconscious. John was my Father, best friend,

husband, brother, and soul mate. Thank you for

introducing Talbot’s and designer clothes to me.

Thank you for giving me the honor to be your

caretaker and nurturer as you transitioned from

this life to a greater place. It was such a

privilege and mark of distinction gift that you

gave to me. Though the time was brief that period

made a remarkable change in my life.

My significant other from 1996 to 2005, Ray

Drouin. Thank you for helping me truly understand

trust. You were a solid rock in my life and gave

me the most stable time in my life.

My wonderful son, Robert William Laney. Thank

you – thank you – thank you for being my amazing

and superb son. You have been my greatest

deed. You have brought me so much joy.

You have been the perfect son. You are so

always focused – goal oriented – highly driven –

very bright – incredibly funny. You have brought

me so much joy and happiness. Whenever I have been

asked my greatest endeavor, my response

always is the same. “The honor of being Robert’s

Mother – he made it so easy.

My wonderful Lisa. Thank you for falling in

love with Robert. I could not love you any more if

you were my own daughter. You are beautiful

internally and externally. I love you.

Steve Klausz, my therapist – Thank you for

helping me save my life and to see the good in me.

David Stern Esq., my attorney since 1994

who encouraged me to write this chronicle and

who was at my college graduation party in 1999 and

many a court case. My liberal conversationalist

but conservative fiscal administrator.


To my precious COCO – who went to work with me.

every day. Traveled globally with me. COCO who

gave me unconditional love. My COCO CHANEL, my

West Highland Terrier. April 1987 to October 2004.