08/10/2021
Meet Raymond Alfredo Rossi MacDonald, saxophone
"I am Scottish. Both of my parents were born in Glasgow. However, my father Hamish was the first Scottish person to marry into an Italian family whose diasporic identity has infused my life. Stories about how our Italian ancestors arrived in Glasgow, and our connection to beautiful landscapes, sunny weather, delicious food, troubadour musicians, and fascinating artisans, were always present when I was a child. At first, these aspects of my young life I took for granted. But at this point, I understand and admire them more than ever.
My early experiences of love and music were wrapped in an Italian accent. My grandmother, Nonna Amalina, would lovingly sing Italian nursery rhymes to me. Everybody called her Amy since Italian names were too difficult for Glaswegians to pronounce at the time. In celebratory social daily events, Italian cuisine and art constantly expressed our connections to idyllic, but rarely visited, Italian villages like Aquilea in Tuscany, where my great grandmother was born.
Music and art filled the lives of my ancestors, too. One strand of our family history involves three Rossi brothers (musicians and artisans) leaving Italy and busking around Europe, stopping in Paris and Brussels, and finally put down their roots in Glasgow. My great grandfather performed as a one-man band on the streets of Glasgow, and our extended family was, and remains, brimming with cafes, musicians, and artists.
However, on the other side of this story there’s struggle, tragedy, and triumph in the face of adversity. My family left Italy due to poverty, battling racism, and searching for a better life. Yet, their reality was harsh also due to a new life in a foreign country. There was a cataclysmic change in their lives in Glasgow when Italy joined WWII with their homes and cafes vandalized overnight. My grandfather interned for three years, and my great grandfather died when a boat, The Arandora Star, full of Italians deported from the UK to Canada, was mistakenly torpedoed.
Consciously and unconsciously, these traumatic experiences were passed down the generations. Diasporic identity, particularly in the summer when our skins would get darker, also meant that my mother, sisters, brother, and I had mercifully brief yet intense experiences of racism.
I remember my origin while visiting Cardito, a tiny collection of houses high in beautiful hills south of Rome. The Rossi brothers left this place over a hundred years ago in search of a better life. Standing in front of my immigrant ancestors, I’m thankful for a heritage that has brought me to this point of reflection. I am also grateful for inheriting from them my love for music, food, art, and, most of all, a unique Scottish-Italian passion for life."