Giuseppina Iadisernia

Born on October 26, 1933, in Molise, Italy, Giuseppina Bertone—our beloved “Nonna” (to her grandchildren) and later “Bia” (to her great-grandchildren)—was an effervescent soul from the very beginning. Her late brother Carmine loved to recount tales of his mischievous sister’s childhood hijinks—antics that continued well into her remarkable life.

She was a force. Anyone who met her felt it immediately. Friends would often joke, “Nonna is so strong, she could lift a couch with one hand”—and honestly, she probably could.

The hardest worker in the universe, she began in the fields as a child and later spent more than two decades building components at Analog Devices. But retirement didn’t suit her. She took a job at Ponderosa Steakhouse and eventually became a beloved fixture at Walmart, where she worked for over 25 years. Even at 90, she was still taking the bus to work—and still their best employee. When we’d visit her, she’d pretend not to know us until break time. “I’m working!” she’d say, waving us away. It made us laugh, but truly, her work ethic was awe-inspiring.

When she lost her beloved husband, Domenico Iadisernia, in 1973, she was heartbroken. She vowed never to marry again and wore black every day for the rest of her life.

She was also hilarious—a natural comedian with the timing of a pro. A royalist at heart, she had fierce opinions about the Royal Family. If you were lucky enough to be at the table during one of her tirades about Camilla or Meghan, you probably laughed until you cried.

Nonna was sharp, sarcastic, and fearless. And she had a vocabulary all her own. If you knew her, you knew her classics: “full-o-sheet” and “whattsa matta wit you?”

She made us laugh until our stomachs hurt.

We used to joke that she was worth millions—because as a child working in the fields, she would snack on truffles she dug from the earth, completely unaware they were delicacies worth a fortune. We estimate about three million dollars’ worth passed through her hands!

She loved soap operas and dramatic series like The Thorn Birds, Dallas, and Dynasty. On Friday nights, she’d warm her young grandchildren’s pajamas in the oven and let them stay up late to watch The Dukes of Hazzard.

We like to say she invented food delivery. She never learned to drive, but when her granddaughters craved McDonald’s or pizza, she’d call the taxi company, bribe the driver to fetch it, and tip him generously.

There are too many stories to count. We are heartbroken that she’s gone, but infinitely grateful for the time we had with her.

We know she’ll visit—and that she’ll make her presence known in big, unforgettable ways, just as she always did.