We are here today to celebrate the life of Rita Ragno, mother to many of you, grandmother, sister, cousin and all around beloved member of our family. At 91, Rita was one of the longest-lived members of our clan, something she wasn’t as pleased with as one might think – especially after she lost the last of her three sisters.
Sisters! I never had any sisters and I envy those of you who do. In some ways, they’re more valuable than parents. They stick around a lot look after you.
During these many years, she won the loyalty and affection of all of us here and many others outside this small circle which includes the whole extended family – cousins, aunts and uncles and even their in-laws; neighbors; friends and professional contacts whom she encountered in her career as a librarian.
After her parents had passed, Rita took up the responsibility of hosting the single, most relied-upon annual family gathering, namely Thanksgiving. She continued to serve in this role while she was young enough, and well enough, and strong enough to do so. It was in admiration and actual emulation of Rita’s Thanksgiving commitment that my wife, Marzena took up the calling.
Rita was 16 years old when I was born, but she always made me feel like we grew up together She would humor and play along with my childishness, pretending that we and her younger siblings belonged to a secret society, “The Hooded Meanies.” Please remind me later to sing for you the anthem of our little gang*. And Rita was always an enthusiastic participant in card games and board games around the kitchen table and at holiday celebrations in the Arlotto home at 142 Broadway in Jersey City.
Aunt Rita and her sister, Dolores were seen as the treasured matriarchs consistently present at all our frequent family get-togethers, each leading their interrelated tribes to the festivities, skillfully preparing specialty dishes for the occasions, superivising the cutting up of dessert pies and overseeing the distribution of slices. Rita submitted to knee replacement surgery, I think, just so she could mount the stairs to our Totowa upstairs apartment for such events.
She had been strikingly beautiful as a young woman. And, although Rita suffered, naturally, from the infirmities of great age, she was always groomed and elegant.
Until that dreadful lockdown of 2020, she remained pleasant – even fun to visit – and a cherished presence wherever she went and whomever she visited. She will always be especially missed.
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