Martha Giovanna (Nicolich) Leli

Martha Giovanna Nicolich Leli, age 103, was taken by Our Lord on August 22, 2018 on the Feast of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Our Lord Jesus Christ brought her to Himself on His Mother's Feast Day! She prayed to Our Blessed Mother and Our Lord every day to please take her in her sleep. Her prayers were answered.

She is survived by her daughter, Judy Dominguez, and son-in-law, Sam Dominguez; her granddaughter, Marta Khader and Marta's husband, Motaz Khader and their two children, Domenico and Leonor; her grandson, Samuel Dominguez and his wife, Melanie Dominguez; and her son-in-law's mother, Felima L. Dominguez. Also touching her life in a special way were Camilla Dominguez and her husband, Zac Lively and her two children, Samia and Macario. She is survived by many cherished nieces and nephews and friends.

Martha was preceded in death by her husband, Dominic; and son, Johnny and his wife, Joyce. And as we can imagine, since she was 103 years old, so many of her immediate family and relatives and friends have passed away.

A Rosary will be recited Friday, August 31, 2018 at 7:00 p.m. at FRENCH – Wyoming. Friends and family may visit beginning at 6:00 p.m.

A Requiem Mass will be celebrated on Saturday, September 1, 2018 at 10:00 a.m. at Queen of Peace Chapel, 1420 San Pedro NE, Albuquerque, NM. Burial will follow at Gate of Heaven Cemetery, located at Wyoming & Paseo del Norte. Following the burial, a reception will be held at FRENCH – Wyoming.

Memorial contributions may be made to Queen of Peace Chapel, 1420 San Pedro NE, Albuquerque, NM 87110



Following is an essay written about her by her grandson Samuel:

On September 2, 1914, Martha Giovanna Nicolich was born into a family of four children on a speck of an island called Unjie in the northern Adriatic Sea. Pronounced oo-nee-ya, this island is under seven square miles and consists mostly of fishermen and farmers with a population of under four hundred residents. “Grandma Lucia took care of me when I was born because my mother was sick. They took my father to fight in WW I, so Nonna Lucieta had to watch after us.” This simple statement hangs heavy in the air of Martha’s apartment for just a moment while she pauses to look around from her chair and gather her thoughts. It is easy to see how she gets lost in the mind’s eye. When Martha was born, the Austro-Hungarian empire was still around. Armies were still using horses in battle and so many things about Martha’s world were very different from today. Being over a century ago, one can only imagine what she has experienced over the passing years. It would take a study of the 20th Century to find out.

For this centurion, life would be an adventure, but every adventure has to start somewhere and for Martha, it started on that little island. When she lived on Unjie, electricity was only available for two hours a day and drinking water was gathered in massive cisterns that sat underneath each house. “We were very conscious about the water we used.” Martha recalls with her eyebrows raised. “If you ran out of water, you had to wait for it to rain, so no one would waste a drop.” Growing up and coming of age in a place like this instills a certain kind of grit in a person that cannot be emulated today. The old cliché “They don’t make them like that anymore” is best represented in Martha and her story of that time on the island. Martha’s earliest trial would come when she was just an infant. When her father left to fight for the Italian Army, there was very little food on the island due to all the men being gone and most of what was farmed going to the war effort. “She [Martha’s grandma Lucia] would grind up corn real fine. Like a powder, you know?” Martha rubs her thumb and forefinger together as she explains. “She would then cook it for a long time with water. That’s what we ate for four years. Sometimes I don’t know how I survived.” This food is known as polenta and like many other peasant foods of the past has today become a consumable of the neo bourgeois foodies of the world. For Martha, just the thought of it makes her lips curl in disgust. These recalled experiences are what leave a person feeling very humbled. Of course, much of what Martha has to say will impart a sense of self-reflection on how wondrously harsh and beautiful life can be, the types of dichotomy represented in myth and spiritual wisdoms. The human spirit present in Martha and its will to persist even in the direst of circumstances is a testament to no matter how hard life can get, we never want to turn a resentful eye skyward, shake our fist and squander the gift of time we’ve been given here.

Martha was only 11 when her mother died, and her sister Emma had died when she was 6. “I think it was from some kind of blood disease. You know, they didn’t know back then.” Martha, the youngest of the four, had plans though and those plans certainly did not involve staying on the island. Like many other citizens of the world at that time, Martha had a date with America. Not much would stop her from getting to that date either, not even a world war.

“It was 1939 and I came to this country in January. That September the war started in Europe.” One would be hard pressed to argue that Martha did not have some kind of divine movement in her life after hearing a statement like that. With the world about to plunge into what would become its most ruthless conflict in recorded human history, Martha managed to get on the last ship to New York. “It was just luck that I made it. If it was one more month I would’ve been left behind there!” Martha exclaims with her index finger raised. The journey would first take her to Trieste, a harbor city in the northern part of Italy. She and Katherine, a friend from the island who came with her, were to get on a ship to the United States. It was here that Martha’s trek to America would have ended had it not been for another stroke of luck. Martha’s father was not too enthused about her leaving the island. When she asked him for the money to travel to America with a promise to pay him back, he had denied her request. This left Martha very few options and ended with her asking her cousin for the money instead. “In Trieste I didn’t realize that the papers I had to sign had a tax and I didn’t have any money left,” she explains. “Luckily we had some friends living there who helped us get on the last boat.” This was one of the last ships that would make a trans-Atlantic voyage before all ships would be used for soldier transport at the start of the war. That September Nazi Germany invaded Poland.

With the old world to the aft and the new world on the horizon Martha’s journey was coming to pass. Several years would go by until she would return to that little island but all that mattered now was getting to the United States where her sister, Maria, was waiting. She had stressed to Martha “You need to learn English and you have to learn it fast!”

“When I first got here I didn’t speak a word of English and I went to work making almost nothing!” Martha says while laughing. “But you got along you know. I was saving two or three dollars a week. It took me about a year to pay back the cost of the trip to my cousin.” This was how life in America began for Martha. Living with her sister, Maria, she would commute to work six days a week on the subway between Manhattan and Long Island. Martha made about $16 a month working as a finisher for women’s clothes when industry was still part of America’s genetic makeup. “There’s no place like New York.” Martha reminisces. “Coming from that little island to New York! I just loved it there.”

For about seven years Martha continued to work when a man born in Italy named Dominic Leli came visiting from California. He would later win a date with Martha and the next day ask for Martha’s hand in marriage. After a couple days of thought, she said yes. Just a month later she became pregnant with her son. After getting a job in Pennsylvania, Dominic moved his new family to Pittsburgh where they later had a daughter. Living out their working years in the rust belt of America, Martha and her husband became part of the heart and soul of the working class that now echoes off the hollow steel factory walls. The greatest generation indeed, and if you take the time to listen you can still hear those echoes reverberate the breathtaking impact they imparted on our world. They were a generation of salt and hard-working people who watched as the world went to war two times only to come out on the other side better and stronger but also badly bruised with sorrow.

There is much to be admired about Martha Leli. The courage it took to step into the unknown and grab life with that kind of spirit brings a smile to one’s face. Hearing her story and what she did to live a better life outside of that little island is cause for inspiration. Today, we travel to different continents overnight and contacting our loved ones who we left behind is a button click away. For the adventurers of older generations like Martha no such luxury existed, and the mere thought would have seemed like science fiction. Despite these hurdles, Martha took a leap of faith in a time and place that discouraged people like her to be risk takers. It is this kind of person I'm sure we would all like to see in ourselves. Martha will be missed. She will always be in our hearts and prayers.