Memories of My Father
You offer a product called “MezzaLuna.”
Upon seeing the name of that product, my mind began trolling away, deep into the sea of my memories as a very little girl. I remember my father singing a song in his native tongue and in the first line of the song I thought I heard the words “Mezza Luna,” which I later learned meant “half moon.”
My father was an Italian immigrant who was left here in the United States by his father at the age of 12 to fend for himself. There were opportunities for him here.
I recall the tales we heard from him about how he quickly adapted through hard work and married at the age of 25. I was the third child of four girls. I remember him singing Italian songs while working in his vegetable and herb gardens and pressing grapes to make table wine. He would serve his wine along with the fresh vegetables at our dinner table. He also preserved his own tomato sauce. When filling his jars, crisp green basil was placed in the sauce before it was properly sealed. Other herbs, parsley, oregano, and thyme were used fresh and dried in bunches throughout the year.
I can see him now singing what I heard, “Mezza Luna,” while chopping his herbs with a sharp knife, just about missing his fingernails. How much easier it would have been with your product, the MezzaLuna!
In his honor, I am the proud owner of your new product. When I use it for chopping my herbs, I will be warmly thinking of my father, Michele.
Thank you for sparking such fond memories and I’m sure I’ll be singing the same song as I chop away with my new tool, the MezzaLuna.