Ah, the holidays—a time for joy, togetherness, and cramming 18 people into a 900-square-foot house with one bathroom and no dishwasher. Welcome to Garden Road in Rocky Point, New York, where my grandparents transformed a tiny house into the epicentre of Italian-American holiday madness.
The main floor of the house was a snug 900 square feet, featuring a kitchen, a living room, a bathroom, two bedrooms, and a sewing room packed with mystery objects. This was where 8 adults and 10 grandchildren gathered for holidays, proving that when you’re Italian, personal space is a myth.
Italian holiday meals weren’t just meals; they were culinary marathons. First came antipasto piled high like a savoury mountain. Then stuffed artichokes, baked ziti, lasagne, or ravioli. Nuts in their shells provided post-meal cardio, followed by meats, vegetables, and desserts from cannoli to legendary crumb cake.
All this food was consumed in a house where 18 people shared one tiny bathroom. The true bonding wasn’t around the table—it was in the queue for the toilet.
And then there were the dishes. With no dishwasher in sight, we relied on the family assembly line: one washed, one dried, and several more “supervised.”
The quarter-acre sandy yard became the playground for ten rowdy children. Grandpa’s hammock became a physics experiment until it inevitably snapped—only to be repaired so we could do it again.
We dug holes, started tiny fires with magnifying glasses, and lowered dolls into the water well in ceremonies that probably terrified the neighbors.
On sunny days we headed to the Long Island Sound, rolling down massive sand dunes and visiting the mysterious “Dragon House.” Trips to the playground involved our battle cry: “The Brigandis are here!”
Back at the house we napped in Grandma’s bed—ten sandy kids piled together like puppies. Her perfectly made bed somehow survived us, possibly thanks to the watchful gaze of the Bleeding Heart of Jesus shrine on her dresser.
Looking back, the holidays at Garden Road were loud, crowded, and chaotic—but filled with laughter, love, and memories that stuck like sand in Grandma’s sheets.
Would I trade those times for a bigger house? Never. If we could fit 18 people into that tiny home, we can handle anything life throws our way.
Research Disclaimer: This site is an active work in progress, and some facts may be unverified as new records are uncovered. I welcome your help in making our family history as accurate as possible! If you have corrections, documents, or photos to share, please Contact Me.
