Rita Owens

If there is one word that best describes Rita Antico, it is giving.

She gave her time, her food, her care, her stories, her laughter, and countless handmade scarves and blankets. She cared for the people she loved with a devotion that never seemed to diminish with age. Her role as a mother never ended. No matter how old her children, grandchildren or great-grandchildren became, she continued to look out for them with the same love and devotion she had shown from the beginning. There was no expiration date on motherhood, and motherhood was not an obligation. It was simply who she was.

Rita was one of seven children born to Italian immigrants, Francesco “Frank” Antico from Cittanova, Calabria and Teresa Latessa from Pescolanciano, Molise. She was raised in Hammonton, NJ and Philadelphia, PA in circumstances that taught her resilience long before she was old enough to understand the meaning of the word.

She often told stories of sleeping in a cold house beneath heavy coats because there were no blankets, of being hungry because there was no food, and of making “pancakes” from flour and water for her younger brother, Joey.

But her memories of childhood were not defined only by hardship. She also remembered the neighbors and members of her community who treated her like a second daughter, even going so far as to throw a sixteenth birthday celebration for her. Their kindness left an impression on her, and perhaps helped shape the generosity that became such a defining part of her own life.

Rita loved being active. As a child and teenager, she enjoyed roller skating and riding bicycles, a love that stayed with her throughout her life. Even at 75, she was still riding a bike.

She married young and became a mother to two sons before she was 21. As the wife of an Army serviceman, she lived in Germany, Guam, Japan, and other places far from the New Jersey and Philadelphia neighborhoods where she grew up. Wherever life took her, she adapted: “we didn’t have a piss pot or a window to throw it out of, but I could clean and paint, and make the house a home.”

She also experienced more loss than most people could imagine. Rita buried her parents, all six of her siblings: Vincent, Frank, Mary, Ann, Steve, and Joe; both of her husbands, Irvin “Bill” Owens and Ray Mobley; her son, Robert Irvin Owens and an infant daughter, Giovanell. Yet despite the heartbreak she endured, she continued to love, to care for others, and to find joy in the ordinary things around her.

It seems that she was most fulfilled by giving of herself.

She crocheted countless scarves and blankets, turning yarn into gifts that kept people warm long after they were made. She loved music and would light up on occasions where the family gathered to play and sing together. With her nephew, John and son, Billy on guitar, Rita would cover percussion with anything available: scratching it out with a plastic banana and a toy washboard or tooting along with a kazoo. She was a wonderful cook who could gracefully move between Southern and Italian cuisine. Christmas Eve was especially important, and she continued the Italian tradition of preparing smelts, linguine with clams, baccalà, and other dishes that brought family together around the table, year after year.

Rita also had a wonderful way of making language her own.

She had a habit of mixing up or rearranging familiar expressions, turning them into something uniquely Rita. If we were “playing phone tag,” she might say we were “playing tic tac toe.” And somehow, coming from her, it made perfect sense.

She rarely seemed angry. Things certainly bothered her - she was human, after all - but instead of anger, she might simply sigh and say, “If I were a man…” and leave the rest to our imagination.

One of her favorite expressions was the Italian phrase “Che sarà, sarà”—what will be, will be. In many ways, the phrase captured something essential about Rita. She had experienced hardship, distance, joy, love, and unimaginable loss, and yet she continued forward.

She remained a mother, a sister, a grandmother, a great-grandmother, an aunt, and a friend. And to the many people who knew her, she was someone they could count on.

Rita’s legacy is found in the people she cared for, the traditions she preserved, the recipes she passed down, the things she made with her own hands, the stories she told, and the countless ways she gave of herself.

She taught her family resilience not by talking about it, but by living it. In her 98-year life she embodied resiliency, perseverance, intention and dedication that never relented.

She continually showed us that even after hardship, there can be laughter. Even after loss, there can be love. And even when life does not turn out as expected, there is always something worth giving.

Che sarà, sarà.

What will be, will be.