Christine Marie Querio

July 23, 1922-September 14, 2018

Christine died at home on a late summer afternoon surrounded by her family and her devoted caregivers. Over the past few years, as old age took its toll, she endured its trials and tribulations with grace and was comforted by the love of her family, especially her grandchildren and greatgrandchildren. The personification of kindness, she was like a second mother to her children’s friends. She left the world a better place than she found it and will be deeply missed by all who knew her.

Christine was the product of two worlds. Her parents, Vittorio and Antonia Vietti, immigrated from a small village north of Torino, Italy, and settled in Berkeley just two years before she was born. Piemontese, the local dialect of that region, was her first language. She grew up surrounded by a giant vegetable garden, a chicken coop, goats and a windmill. Her family served antipasto, polenta and gnocchi long before they became fashionable. Her family’s social circle was almost exclusively other Italian immigrants. They didn’t own a car until she was a senior at Berkeley High.

However, Christine also belonged to America’s Greatest Generation.

As a young girl during the depths of the Great Depression, she witnessed her parents struggle to make ends meet. Despite the hard times, they saved up enough to eventually buy a grocery store where she worked through high school and after. Berkeley High was a melting pot that brought Christine into contact with students from every walk of life and every economic stratum. Although college was out of reach for her family, she learned firsthand the value of hard work and the challenges of running a small business. Hers was the world of Big Bands and Bobbie Soxers—Frank Sinatra was her Elvis. She was an all-American girl in a land of unlimited opportunity. World War II caused her two worlds—her family’s homeland and its adopted country—to collide. Although her father was a naturalized U.S. citizen, her mother was not. So with Italy on the wrong side of the fight, her mother was interned as an enemy alien, leaving Christine, at 19, to watch after her teenage siblings, Peter and Mary. The war’s impact on her family did not end with her mother’s release. As soon as her brother Pete turned 18, he joined the Army—like so many other sons of immigrants—and was badly wounded in the first days of the Battle of Okinawa. It was months before Christine knew whether he would ever make it home. Through Pete’s long and difficult convalescence, she was a regular fixture at his bedside.

The war changed her life in another way—she met the love of her life. John Querio was a handsome young Air Force officer who happened to be visiting his cousins in Berkeley at the end of the war. Although born in America, he had been raised in the same region of Italy as Christine’s parents and had returned to New York as Europe descended into war. Like Christine, John straddled the Old and New Worlds. They were a perfect fit in both cultures and for each other. Their wedding in 1946 was a grand festa in the Italian style. But because her brother was still hospitalized, she declined the traditional bridal gown and instead wore a beautiful, tailored suit. Her gesture typified the humility and thoughtfulness that she displayed throughout her life.

And what a life it was. After Christine’s brother had recovered, he and John took over the family store and eventually went into the wine wholesale business. She provided the common sense plus the bookkeeping skills. They prospered, moved to Lafayette and joined America’s growing middle class. There they raised their children and watched them start their own families. But they never forgot where it all began, making a point of returning to Italy numerous times to introduce their children and grandchildren to their relatives. John’s death a decade ago left a large hole in her life, which Christine filled watching her grandchildren marry and have little ones of their own.

To her American friends, Christine was “Chris,” but to her friends from the old neighborhood, she was always “Nina.” She was just as comfortable playing bocce at the Fratellanza Club in Oakland as she was playing canasta with her friends in Lafayette. Every holiday was filled with the rich fare of Italian delicacies that Christine had learned to prepare from her mother. Everyone was welcome at her table. She was a second mother to her children’s friends and, in her later years, “Nonni” to her grandchildren, greatgrandchildren and everyone else she encountered. Christine loved her family and friends, to whom she gave everything and held back nothing. She will live on in their hearts.

Christine is survived by her sister Mary Vietti; her sister-in-law Ruth Vietti and family; her children Donald Querio (Maureen) and Linda Momsen (Jeffrey); her grandchildren John Querio (Meera), Nicholas Momsen (Rochelle), Paige Machado (Vince) and Cynthia Barthold (Corbin); her great-grandchildren Augustus Machado, Juliette Machado and Philip Querio; and her Colombian “son” Juan Rafael Henao (Magola) and family. They are consoled by the knowledge that Christine is reunited with her beloved grandson, Philip Querio, who predeceased her. A memorial service will be held on Friday, October 12, 2018, at 11:00 a.m., at St. Theresa Catholic Church in Oakland with a reception to follow at the Claremont Country Club (coat required). In lieu of flowers, donations in memory of Christine can be made to the Association for Frontotemporal Degeneration at the following mailing address: Radnor Station Building 2, Suite 320, 290 King of Prussia Rd., Radnor, PA 19087; or to the charity of your choice.