Obituary of Margaret R Mondoro

Margaret Mondoro (nee Marotto), 85, died September 13, 2013 surrounded by her family, in South Plainfield, NJ. Born Dec 20, 1927 to Italian immigrants Frank Marotto (a tailor) and Angelina DeLisi Marotto (a seamstress), she enjoyed an idyllic childhood with her younger sister Concetta "Connie" Rohn (Charles) in then rural Bound Brook, NJ, and graduated from Bound Brook High School and Rider College. Margaret held several clerical positions including working alongside her beloved husband Anthony Mondoro Sr., whom she married in 1947 after his return from Marine service in WWII. Her main vocation was the care and protection of everyone close to her -- her husband, her four children Patricia Carberry (Drew), Barbara Sullivan (Bob), Anthony Mondoro Jr. (Debra), and Frank Mondoro (Diane), her 14 grandchildren, 7 great-grandchildren, and an extended crowd of nieces, nephews, grandnieces, grandnephews, sons-in-law, daughters-in-law, and anyone who could be considered "family" -- a calling she upheld with great seriousness, tenderness, vigilance, and unconditional love. Like her parents, she was skilled at many fiber handicrafts, but after crocheting, knitting, and needlepoint she found her greatest expression in making traditional hand-hooked rugs, amassing an impressive portfolio of variations on traditional Early American designs, each rug personalized for, and presented to, a grandchild, oftentimes during their solo week of summer vacation at her house. She was a phenomenal cook and a treasure trove of traditional Italian recipes, from honey-drenched "guniquelle" at Easter, homemade foccacia (made as a snack for clamoring grandchildren years before it became trendy), breadcrumb-stuffed artichokes, or zesty caponata ("gabanadine" in the Sicilian dialect learned from her mother) made with eggplants grown in the family garden. Hungry family members will most remember the extravagant Christmas Eve traditional fish feast she and husband Tony produced every year, and how grandchildren would hover nearby as she presided over the electric fryer in the garage, crisp-frying battered baccala while wearing her special poinsettia sweatshirt that had absorbed many Christmases worth of olive oil spatters. She loved coconut custard pie and a cup of tea, had a pool built in the backyard for her children and grandchildren although she never learned to swim, would undress the mannequins in department stores to find a garment in a grandchild's size, called blue jeans "dungarees" and prepared "sangwiches" for lunch, addressed her grandchildren as "doll" and exhorted the girls to "sit like a little lady", and never presided over a meal without observing "Oh, how quiet it got" once everyone started chewing. Towards the end of her life, as Alzheimer's robbed her memory, all the care she had shown her beloved family for over six decades was reflected back upon her, and unceasingly by her devoted husband Tony. All her grace, kindness and love cannot be enclosed in an obituary, and everyone she loved misses her dearly.