Her voice was already taking on its signature rasp, and with her natural comedic timing, it would have been little kid-funny, anyway – even if she didn’t take a certain liberty with the lyrics.
Frank Fumich remembers the times as a tyke when Ginga would cradle him in her lap, to sing an American ditty that most kids knew by kindergarten back then.
Well, she sang her version, anyway: “Yankee Doodle went to town, a-riding on a pony, stuck a feather up his a** and called it macaroni …”
He was an adult with kids of his own, when he found out those weren’t the actual words.
“All those years, I seriously thought that’s how the song went,” he said, laughing.
“Thanks, Ginga. Can you imagine the reunion she’s having with Gramma right now?”
“Gramma & Ginga,” that is – and yes, the offset quotation marks and ampersand apply.
That’s because the two wise-cracking, cussword-spewing sisters from Clarksburg, who became unlikely social media stars when they were both at the century mark, were an entertainment entity unto themselves, spawning a Facebook page and a documentary film.
“Gramma” was Genevieve Musci, the grandmother of Fumich. She died on Christmas Day 2020, at the age of 106.
“Ginga,” was her sister and Fumich’s aunt. Arlena Cody Bashnett was 103 when she joined her sister this past Tuesday.
They achieved stardom, their grandson and nephew said, by simply being themselves.
And by the fact that Fumich finally got his cellphone out in time to record what would be the first of many trademark exchanges posted online for the world.
“They would get into these arguments,” he said.
“Oh, my God. They were hilarious. They weren’t trying to be funny. They’d be mad at the time. It would be over just as soon as it started.”
‘Who are those ladies?’
Fumich is a northern Virginia native who runs his own airline catering business in the Washington, D.C. area.
His family is from north-central West Virginia, though, meaning lots of trips back home to see the relatives.
Invariably, he’d end up in Gramma’s kitchen for coffee.
Invariably, Ginga would appear.
And, invariably, comedic lightning would strike – because the sisters would have a difference of opinion … on something.
Cases would be made, for and against, using lots of four-letter words.
The first video went up on his Facebook page in 2015, and a sister act was born.
“I started getting friend requests from people I didn’t know,” he said.
“I’d get these messages: ‘Who are these ladies?’ I’d say, ‘Well, that’s Gramma and Ginga.’”
By the time it was done, they were interviewed by Jimmy Kimmel, London’s Daily Mail and this newspaper.
A crew from a Chicago TV station followed them around one afternoon. Two filmmakers from San Francisco made a documentary on their lives and times.
Steve Harvey flew them to Hollywood to be guests on his NBC television show.
And thousands flocked to their Facebook page and YouTube channel.
“Can you imagine?” Fumich said, marveling.
Old-new country
Technically, the sisters were cursing in a second language.
Their parents hailed from San Giovanni, in Fiore, Calabria, which is around the lower arch of Italy’s boot.
They grew up in Clarksburg’s North View neighborhood.
Predominantly Italian North View is where Old World accents can still be heard.
North View is where, not so long ago, little ladies with white veils have prayed the Rosary (in pre-Vatican II fashion), all through Mass at St. James Roman Catholic Parish at the top of the hill.
“All the Italians here are from the same place.” Gramma told The Dominion Post in 2017.
“Yeah, we didn’t speak English until we went to school,” Ginga said.
The sisters kept up with the language and were able to converse with relatives during international phone calls and the several visits they made to San Giovanni.
Being Gramma & Ginga
When they sat down with The Dominion Post for that feature ahead of their pre-taped Steve Harvey appearance, they were initially buzzing about red carpets and stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
Video was rolling the whole time, for the paper’s website – and while the sisters got rave reviews, the author of this article — who served as the de facto, on-camera host that day — did not.
It all happened in Gramma’s kitchen in North View, with its signature, yellow-tiled walls familiar to all those YouTube watchers.
Sometimes, they were Gramma and Ginga, and other times they were simply Genevieve and Arlena.
With her regal white hair and soft, droll baritone, Gramma came off as stately and bemused at the same time – and one who was at least a reluctant good sport about her sudden notoriety.
“I wasn’t counting on this,” she said. “People will come up at Kroger. I’m always polite, but I’m not always comfortable.”
Ginga, in contrast, reveled in her celebrity. She was the more fun-loving and media-savvy of the pair, and delivered on-the-fly one-liners in a voice like one of Marge Simpson’s sisters.
Ask to pose for a selfie? She’d oblige, every time.
“I always go, ‘OK, one, two, three … sex,” she said, drawing the last word out. “People get a kick out of that.”
A bleepin’ coffee break
There was one dust-up during the newspaper’s visit.
Ginga squeaked her chair across the kitchen floor.
Gramma preferred she not squeak said chair across said floor.
“Why do you keep doing that?”
“Well, I have to move in, so they can see us for the camera.”
“Then get your a** this way. That ruins the legs of my chair.”
“Kiss my a**.”
“Yeah, blow it out your a**.”
“Aw, bull****.”
“****.”
“****.”
A nephew called it. The bleep-fest was over like a summer storm.
The sisters were laughing again: Gramma and Ginga, retired, for the moment.
“Arlena, there’s coffee. You’d better get some.”
She put her hand lightly on her big sister’s shoulder as she brushed past to pour two cups.
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