Those two brave kids. My grandparents. Leaving a deep landlocked village on a hillside precipice warm with Italian life. The handsome husband pulling what can only be surmised as a pliant supplicant new wife – having waited perhaps for years for the moment of his decision, his assurance that he could pull it off in the new country. Or was it her they were waiting for? Her corredo? She had had ample time to be sure. So no, they were not waiting for her home and hearth goods to be secured. And what could they bring aboard ship but a satchel or perhaps a trunk? No, it was he. Sure of his ability to provide in the new country – ample time having passed. Maybe he asked his mother to find him a suitable girl once he was ready for marriage. His first journey was before age seventeen with the three elder brothers; then traveled back and forth bringing back or sending back money for the remaining family. With that money they buy land and build their village homestead. They remain there for a while. Their rock solid father - my great grandfather - in the one photo his head and neck the size of a large field rock, this comparison not doing his stature justice I am sure. His countenance much like my grandfathers’ was that of a field marshal in full command of his brood. All boys. My great grandmother in photos seemed a great beauty. With full head of lustrous black curls full lips impeccably embroidered black skirt vest and white blouse. In this traditional dress beside the hearth I am certain maintaining full disclosure for her family. What they imagined would come could not have been foretold. How we have now grown up could not have been dreamed. But they did embark, the four boys together leaving their beloved parents and their countryside behind.
