Annabelle Costello, my grandmother 
The Breakers mansion, Newport Rhode Island
(below is the prologue to my upcoming post on my maternal grandmother, Annabelle Costello)
“ALL THAT MONEY”
During Parents’ Weekend at Brown University, students traditionally took their families to see the famous Newport Mansions, wealthy Gilded Age estates just a 40 minute drive south of the Providence, Rhode Island campus. A wealthy seaside city at the tip of Aquidneck Island, Newport had once been “America’s Society Capitol”, where the Industrialist of the late 1800’s built opulent summer resorts with their untold fortunes: The Astors and Belmonts of the New York financial world, Philadelphia Coal Baron Julius Berwind, the Duke tobacco family of North Carolina, and of course the Vanderbilts, the “First Family” of Newport, who built several historic mansions in including the granddaddy of them all, “The Breakers.”
When Nana Costello, my maternal grandmother, made the 6 ½ hour trek to with my mom and younger brother to parents weekend from Mt. Carmel during my freshman year, I wanted to show off the Newport mansions. Proud of making it to an Ivy League school, where I played Freshman football and majored in Economics, I wanted to show my family a part of New England much different from the Coal Region of Pennsylvania we hailed from. With guidebook in hand, I drove them past each estate, narrating the tour with bits and pieces about the lives of the different Robber Barons responsible for building each. But something strange was happening with my grandmother. .
Nana, though short and slight in stature, normally held court in every conversation. But now was unusually silent. In fact she didn’t say a word during the entire tour. No awe-inspired gasps, no historical commentary, which as an avid buff of history and politics she loved to supply. Normally she would have been a sparkplug in the conversation. But today: nothing. During the only guided tour we took inside one of the mansions, she decided to wait in the car. With a grim face, she totally tuned out.
Nonetheless, at the end of the day we made one final stop at The Breakers, the signature mansion of Newport and epitome of Gilded Age decadence. Built by Cornelius Vanderbilt II in 1895, The Breakers breathtaking size and stately beauty is drawn in sharp relief against an impeccably manicured, football-field sized front lawn which faced the brackish Easton Bay. The famous Newport Cliff Walk ran the course of the water’s edge, overlooking the crashing ocean down below the lineup of mansions. We took the winding driveway to the edge of the Cliff Walk to capture the iconic ocean view of The Breakers.
My mom, my brother and I jumped out of the car and walked towards the viewing area at the edge of the lawn, when I turned back to Nana:
“Why don’t you just come out of the car and see this one?”
“No, I’m ok,” she said curtly.
After seeing the disappointment on my face, she relented.
“Ok, One. Just this one,” she said.
We walked to the chest-height stone wall where my mom and brother were gazing at The Breakers’ splendor. Nana looked at the estate for barely a few seconds, and declared:
“Ok let’s go,” and turned back to the car. We followed.
Once inside, I aired my frustration.
“What’s wrong? You’ve been silent all day. You’ve been grouchy. You wouldn’t go on the tour or get out of the car. Why get out now? If you weren’t going to enjoy it, why bother?” I was irritated.
She took a long pause, then answered, barely holding back her rage. With two fierce and cutting sentences, she put me in my place:
“Your grandfather worked in those coal mines his whole entire life, and died a poor man. I just wanted to see where all that money went.”
No other Economics lesson in my four years at Brown stuck with me like that one.
(Stay tuned for the entire post “Nana Costello” coming soon)