Generation 1 Chapter 4 Knots and Nots

I’m a teacher, and so this time of year is always crazy (WHY did I volunteer to teach summer school?…).  There is a borrowed picture (the ship) in this chapter.  Also, I think I finally got the files straightened out, so I don’t need to hunt for photos.


“Alonzo,” Angelica spoke gently, but sternly to her son, “Alonzo, it has been a month.  The ship leaves tomorrow.  You have to tell her.”

Alonzo looked at his feet.  “Mama, I can’t.  I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell her the truth.”

“Mama, I…”

“Do it, Alonzo.  She will never forgive you if you don’t.  You can’t just break her heart.”


“Do it Alonzo.”

Alonzo nodded and looked at the floor.

Screenshot-16“Alonzo!” laughed Nicoletta, “It’s been so long!  I’ve barely seen you since your father passed.  How is everything?”

Alonzo smiled shyly and nodded, avoiding answering the question.  His head spun and his stomach twisted into knots.  He took Nicoletta’s hands in his, and looked into her deep eyes.  They had been friends since they were children.  Her family’s mill supplied the semolina for the bakery and their mothers were distant cousins.  They secretly loved one another, but both were too afraid to admit it to the other.

“What is it Alonzo?” she asked gently placing her hand on his arm.

Alonzo stared at the ground, like a nervous school boy.  He looked up at Nicoletta and leaned in, kissing her softly on the cheek.  “Nicoletta…” he whispered quickly and nervously, “There is something I have to tell you.  Ever since we were children I have loved you and I hate that I have waited until now to tell you.  It’s just that, tomorrow, I will be leaving for America.  And before I go…”



He knelt and pulled a small ring that had belonged to his grandmother from his pocket.  “Please, Nicoletta, please marry me.  Go with me to America.  We can open a bakery there, and have a house and raise a family.  Please be my wife.”

Nicoletta stood silently and still in the plaza, staring at Alonzo.  Slowly, she began to shake her head.  “No.”

Alonzo stood up.  He could feel his ears reddening partly with sadness, partly with embarrassment.  He nodded.  “I understand.  I just…I thought…I…I’m sorry, Nicoletta.  Please though, never forget me.  You know I’ll never be back to Monte Vista.  Goodbye, Nicoletta.”  He turned and began to run home as quickly as he could.

shipThe next morning, with only a trunk of clothing, a little money and a photograph of his parents, Alonzo boarded a ship, headed for Bridgeport, in America.



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Generation 1 Chapter 3 Goodbyes

Alonzo is having a rough emotional time right now.  He blames himself for Alberto’s death.

This chapter contains a mention of an  adult situation.  If that bothers you, please don’t read it.

Also, some of the pictures aren’t from my game.  For some reason, a lot of the screenshots I took became corrupted files.  Thus, a Google search helped me to find some pictures to illustrate the



It  had been three days since his father’s passing.  For three days, Alonzo had not eaten.  He had barely risen from the bed.  Today was the funeral.  The early morning sun shone through the bedroom windows waking him.  His bones creaked as he slowly rose from the bed.  He had no choice.  Today, he had to go out.  He had to face his father.  The bells of the church rang loudly and mournfully.  His mother had scheduled the funeral for the morning, right after the morning mass.  Alonzo shuffled to the basin and splashed cool water on his face.  He sighed as he dressed in his finest suit.

“Alonzo,” called his mother from downstairs, “It is time to go”.  He pulled on his shoes and headed down the stairs.  The church was a short walk from their cottage and he wanted to be there for his mother.  It would be hard for Angelica.  She and Alberto had been married for nearly forty years.  Alonzo, their only son, was born late in their marriage after a string of miscarriages.  Alonzo took his mother’s arm gently in his.  She looked stronger than he had expected her to.  The two walked in silence to the church.

church funeral


The church was decorated with flowers, lilies, his father’s favorite.  The sweet smell filled the air.  It was cool inside, despite the warmth of the morning outside.  Alonzo slid into the front pew, next to his mother.  He stared blankly into the eyes of the saints statues throughout the service, not moving, not speaking, as if looking for answers.  The church was filled with the townspeople.  Alberto was loved by all.  Alonzo did take notice of how few young men there were.  His father was right.  They had all gone to Rome or to America.  The morning light shone through the stained glass, dancing its colorful reflection on the lid of the casket.


It seemed like hours and it seemed like everyone in the village shook his hand and sent him their condolences.  The casket stool alone in the church.  Alonzo stared.  He could feel the blood thumping in his temples, his ears reddening.  His eyes burned with tears.

“Papa,” he spoke softly, “I’m so sorry.  I never got to say goodbye.  I never got to tell you I love you, that Mama loves you, that no matter what, I will lead the Rossi legacy.  I will go to America.  Goodbye Papa”.  He placed his hand on the lid of the casket and closed his eyes.

Eastern_Hills_CemeteryAt the village cemetery, a cool breeze blew.  Alonzo and five of his father’s friends carried the casket to the site.  It was silent aside from the click of leather soled shoes on the cobble stoned paths.  In his mind, all Alonzo could think of was going to America, to fulfill his father’s wish for him.  He bit his lip to fight back the feeling of dread that seemed to be overwhelming him.


The heavy wooden casket was placed into the ground.  Each of the pall bearers threw a shovel of dirt onto the casket, making the sign of the cross and mouthing silent prayers.

Finally, it was Angelica’s time to throw a single lily onto the casket.  Tears flowed from her eyes as she audibly sobbed as she gently let the flower go into the ground.


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Generation 1 Chapter 2 What Have I Done?

Sorry this post is so short, and kind of choppy.  I haven’t had much time to play the game, but I have the story progression in my head already, so I am trying to move the story line ahead.


Alonzo roamed the cobble stone streets of Monte Vista for hours, lost in his thoughts.

“He can’t close the bakery!  What is he thinking?  I can run it!  Of course, everyone my age is leaving Monte Vista and going to the north, or leaving all together.  It doesn’t matter.  I have got to convince him.  Ah!  That’ll never work.  My father is a stubborn old man. I should have offered earlier to take it over.  He’s been so weak the past few months.  I don’t know.”

The sun was beginning to set, and the breeze blew in from the sea, mixing the salty sea air with the olive trees pungent aroma.  Had he not argued with his father, it would have been a pleasant evening.  Alonzo’s stomach gurgled.  It was nearly the dinner hour.  The bells of the church rang out six times.  “I should go home” Alonzo whispered to himself.


Inside, the house was still, and silent aside from a record playing a slow sad song on the old Victrola.  “Pop?  Mama?” called Alonzo as he walked through the cottage.

He heard sobbing near the staircase.  “Mama?” he called.  Angelica Rossi rushed towards her son, tears in her eyes.

“Mama, Mama what is it?”

“Your father, Alonzo, he, when you left he was angry.  He went out into the garden to pick olives, and I don’t know what happened and when I called him for lunch he was lying face down amongst the trees…”  She burst into tears.


Alonzo put his arms around his mother, unable to speak.  Guilt welled inside of him.  “Where is he?  Is he ok?”

“Alonzo…” his mother sniffed, “He has already been taken to the church.”

Tears streamed down Alonzo’s face.  He hugged his mother and slowly walked into the family garden.


In the garden, Alonzo cried.


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Generation 1 Chapter 1 A Family Proposition


“How was mass?” asked Alberto Rossi to his wife and son, as they returned from church.  He had spent the morning in the garden, picking olives from the tree, collecting his thoughts.

“You should have come,” answered his wife, Angelica, as she went into the house to begin making the family’s breakfast.

“It was fine, pop,” Alonzo sighed and picked up a basket, helping his father pluck the small brown fruits from the tree in the family garden.  The sweet smell of the olive tree and the warm sun made the garden such a peaceful place.  Alberto nodded, smiled and hummed a song as he picked the olives.

“Going to put the olives in a bread tomorrow at the bakery?” asked Alonzo, popping an olive into his mouth, enjoying the softness and bitterness, spitting the seed into a handkerchief that he stuffed in his pocket.

“No, son.  I’m not opening the bakery tomorrow.”

“But it’s Monday…”.  Alonzo put down the basket and faced his father.

“We are going to be closed on Mondays from now on,” spoke Alberto rather matter of factly, the tone of his voice becoming dull and quiet.


“Closed.” Alberto’s face was intense and melancholy.

Alonzo sighed.  His father had been so quiet and serious lately, much unlike himself.  Alberto Rossi had always been jovial, quick witted and friendly.  he had always had a quick step, loved to dance and faithfully went to mass daily.  For the past few months though, he had become quieter, and seemed to slow down his lively pace.  He seemed to be much more serious and urgent in his words and actions.  Alonzo worried about his father, but Alberto insisted that everything was fine.

Alberto, sensing his son’s uneasiness clicked his tongue and sighed.  “Alonzo, after breakfast we need to talk.  It is very important.  About the bakery.  After breakfast, we talk.”  He picked up his basket and went into the house.

Alonzo sighed and leaned against the tree, closing his eyes and breathing in the sweet olive scent.



“Excellent, as always, Angelica” laughed Alberto, “Excellent!”

“Thank you Al,” smiled Angelica, as she put another waffle on Alberto and Alonzo’s plates.

“Mama, we should sell these in the bakery!” laughed Alonzo.

“Oh, no, no one would buy my waffles.  Just the two of you.  You and your father love everything I make, the villagers, not everything.”

“Ah, that’s not true, Mama, everyone knows you’re the best cook in Monte Vista, probably in all of Italy.”

Angelica frowned, “Alberto, have you not told him yet?”

Alberto shook his head “After breakfast, Angelica, after breakfast.”

“Breakfast is over,” spoke Angelica, with the clear authority of running the household.  She stood and began to collect the plates.



“Pop, what is it?”  asked Alonzo, standing.

“The bakery, my son.  It is losing so much money.  The villagers, they are all leaving, and the ones that have stayed have no money for bread.  You see it, every day, less less people come.  All of your school mates, they have all gone to Rome or left for America.  For months, we have tried to keep it open, but there is no money left.  We must close the bakery.”  Alberto spoke rapidly, and excitedly, a sense of urgency in his voice.

“But father,” Alonzo took his father’s wrinkled hands into his, “but father, it is our family business.  You have been the baker in the village for forty years.  Grandfather was the baker before you, and his father before him, and his father before him.  Our family has always run the bakery, and I…” Alonzo’s voice trailed off as he stared into his father’s dark eyes.  

“You hoped to one day run the bakery, Alonzo.”

Alonzo nodded, saying nothing, but sadly staring into his father’s eyes.

“Alonzo,” Alberto sighed, “I have a proposition for you.  Be like the other young men, leave this village.  Go to America where there is opportunity to be had.”


“You will go my son.”

Alonzo felt his ears reddening, “No!”, he shouted, “I will not leave Monte Vista.  You did this!  You ran the bakery wrong, I should have taken it over.  You’re too old to run it, and I could have done it.  Now you’re trying to get me to leave!  What about Mama?!” He raised his voice and walked towards the door of the villa.  “I need to go out!”  He slammed the door and ran out into the cool night air.

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Biography of Alonzo Rossi (Generation 1)


Alonzo Rossi was born in the beautiful village of Monte Vista to Benito Rossi, a local baker, and his wife, Angelica Rossi.  As a child, he was popular amongst his school mates and had many friends.  His teachers adored him for his charisma and sense of humor.  As an only child, he was doted on by his mother and father.  He spent his days after school working in the family bakery, and playing in the sun drenched hills, breathing in salty sea and crisp cypress and pine air.

He grew into a strong, very social young man.  He hoped to one day run the family bakery, but when the economy of the village began to crumble, so did his dreams.

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Welcome to my very first Sims 3 family legacy, the Rossi Family.  Thank you for reading the story.

Here are some guidelines I will follow throughout the legacy:

*The story will last for 10 generations.

*Heirs may be male or female, but the first born child in the home family will be the heir.

*I will not use cheats to get more money, etc. for the family.

*I will not be keeping track of points.  This will be more of a storytelling legacy.

*There will be adult language and situations throughout the story.  I will let readers know at the beginning of each chapter if the chapter contains this content.


Meet the founder of the family, Alonzo Rossi.


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