tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10529274368339263802024-03-13T23:59:56.670-04:00Run Squirrel Run! Tutti I GiusvalliniJim Brady IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703199630912799282noreply@blogger.comBlogger115125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-20859576475942551242023-12-12T09:49:00.005-05:002023-12-12T09:53:35.302-05:00Buon Natale a Tutti!As the Christmas holiday is rapidly approaching, I just wanted to wish a BUON NATALE to all of our readers who have read, and continue to follow, this page!
Our family would make time to visit our loved ones on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and, the day after Christmas. I have also been sharing with my family members how, when I was very small, I would look forward to seeing the HUGE trees at the Carpenter estate, decorated on Route 100 in Montchanin. I no longer see the trees today, but I still happily see them in my mind.
Best Regards to All, Jim-Jim Brady IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703199630912799282noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-67363025189124665902014-07-29T09:17:00.000-04:002014-07-29T09:17:18.628-04:00It's Zucchini Bread Season<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Jpab0pvG-Vc/U9ed6rQClxI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/h8JBXDTRlNw/s1600/zucch_bread.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Jpab0pvG-Vc/U9ed6rQClxI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/h8JBXDTRlNw/s320/zucch_bread.jpg" /></a>
<p>The zucchini's are in full swing right now. We have a friend of the family who have been giving them to us left and right, and they are all about the size of torpedos. I have memories of my mother making zucchini bread when I was a small boy, and now the time has come for me to teach my family how to do the same.
There are many zucchini bread recipes out there, but ours is one of the simplest ones. We do not use nuts, pineapples, or anything else in the bread (mainly because the kids won't eat it otherwise!). Just the basics..
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So the pressing question is, have you made any zucchini bread yet?
Jim Brady IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703199630912799282noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-73641207334870965832011-12-24T09:10:00.003-05:002011-12-24T09:15:38.622-05:00The Almighty PIZZELLE<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-chKN1LcPpqQ/TvXd2jflMzI/AAAAAAAAAKI/GXLqap8P6bg/s1600/pizzelle.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-chKN1LcPpqQ/TvXd2jflMzI/AAAAAAAAAKI/GXLqap8P6bg/s320/pizzelle.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689697633562866482" /></a><br />At this time of year, the almighty Pizzelle flourishes across the dessert tray of many Italian families. We all recognize them immediately: a flat, round-shaped cookie, almost resembling a waffle in some sense. Yet different..<br /><br />When one sees this cookie, its appearance creates a bit of a façade regarding its ingredients: after all, how much variation could go into a cookie that always seems to look like the same thing, when found in so many different families’ dessert lineups? They must all do theirs the same way, right? WRONG.<br /><br />The ones that I had seen most prominently when growing up were the plain kind (more commonly known as “vanilla”), as well as an anisette-flavored kind, and I think on some occasions I’d learned that there was a lemon variant out there. However, in recent years I was introduced to a chocolate version that one of my cousins in the Ghione family likes to make. That was neat to see, because I only remember my mother doing the vanilla ones (or anisette, which look the same).<br /><br />Over the years, I’ve always tried to take a moment to ask the baker what it was about their personal Pizzelles that they felt made theirs different from the others that were made out there. I don’t want to threaten the security of anyone’s family recipe secrets out there (you know how protective we Italians are of our recipes), but the answers that I got (which were few and, even provided conditionally, hehe) included all kinds of things from using a specific Pizzelle iron type, to totally ELIMINATING certain ingredients which others believe are mandatory to use in the make-up of the Pizzelle, to all kinds of little nuances. The art of making these cookies really does have an underground chain of customizations which, even though the cookie may LOOK the same as the Pizzelle type you know and love from your family, there just might be something different about that one at a friend’s or other family member’s.<br /><br />There are also variations as to how that cookie should be, texturally- some believe it should be crunchy, so you can dip it in your coffee. Others believe it should be a softer cookie instead. There really are a lot of different ways to spin a Pizzelle! But at the end of the day, the important part is this: as long as you made some time to make some for the Holiday season, you’re good to go..<br /><br /><br />BUON NATALE TUTTI!Jim Brady IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703199630912799282noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-19460262515056829542011-12-17T14:07:00.003-05:002011-12-17T14:22:03.934-05:00Lou Robino<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_al_H8xsSU4/TuzrqBh6vkI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/kSHwJwHuaDI/s1600/IMG_0168.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_al_H8xsSU4/TuzrqBh6vkI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/kSHwJwHuaDI/s320/IMG_0168.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687179536659824194" /></a><br /><br />I would like to take a moment to ask all of our readers to say a prayer for one of my extended family members, Lou Robino. Lou was born at Squirrel Run in 1915, and up until recently, was doing extremely well for a man his age.<br /><br />In recent weeks his health has begun to decline, and for the sake of the Squirrel Run Community out there, I would like to ask for you all to think of him and his family during this time.<br /><br />For those of you who attended the Winterthur Exhibit that Frank and I were a part of in 2010, Lou was there to be a part of it all as well. His photo even made the Delaware News Journal. I have attached another photo of him with this article.<br /><br />I have spoken with Lou many times about Squirrel Run, and taken many notes from him to help in retaining all of those wonderful memories. At a time when pretty much all of the "old timers" in my family from Squirrel Run have passed on, Lou gave me yet one more opportunity to learn some more about that magical place. <br /><br />This one's for you, Lou.........Jim Brady IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703199630912799282noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-3397647710679306212011-11-23T19:04:00.005-05:002011-11-23T19:38:44.161-05:00A Last Chance To See It Before It's Gone<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cXSh4A9SSYg/Ts2MAddoW4I/AAAAAAAAAJM/YmWvX2wl5_o/s1600/Photo908.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678348644720860034" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cXSh4A9SSYg/Ts2MAddoW4I/AAAAAAAAAJM/YmWvX2wl5_o/s320/Photo908.jpg" /></a><br />To all of our readers who are familiar with the locale surrounding the Squirrel Run and Hagley areas, I wanted to send this update out: I am trying to remember, in my quickly-aging mind, who it was that once told me that their family lived in (or near) the home shown in the pics attached. I have an idea who it might have been who told me that story, but until I have confirmation I will wait to share it. Nevertheless, I am sad to report that the home in the attached images is doomed to be knocked down. I was in the area today for some other events, and while passing the home I noticed the sign adjacent to it which read, "Demolition Plan". I guess I shouldn't be surprised, knowing that this home has been in this particular condition for quite some time. However, I was wondering if the DE Historical Society was going to pick it up to save, or if maybe the Childrens' Hospital located behind it would find a way to leverage the existing structure. Apparently not the case.<br /><br /><div>I did not have time to read the sign to see what the future holds for this lot- however, I am very happy that I was able to capture some images of it before it was too late. For those of you who read our blog and enjoy the topics we cover, I would greatly appreciate any comments or stories that are remembered regarding this home. These old pieces of local history are fading fast.</div><br /><div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y4sbtV0tyOk/Ts2MpcY39MI/AAAAAAAAAJg/Y3fBwZ7io-A/s1600/Photo907.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678349348807111874" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y4sbtV0tyOk/Ts2MpcY39MI/AAAAAAAAAJg/Y3fBwZ7io-A/s320/Photo907.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678349345251593586" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y0jOZdIINPw/Ts2MpPJLDXI/AAAAAAAAAJY/vSC41UsvxP4/s320/Photo906.jpg" /> </div>Jim Brady IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703199630912799282noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-41458541095435655462011-09-23T11:12:00.002-04:002011-11-19T20:52:58.922-05:00Remembering September 23, 1923Today marks the 88th anniversary of the gathering of “Tutti i Giusvallini” on the grounds of what is now the Hagley Museum. Those who still remember this gathering, and others like it, all share many of the same sentiments …. wonderful memories of family and friends during a time when their little community took care of itself and neighbors watched out for each other. We hope that some of these values continue through the generations yet to come. We the younger generations have a lot to live up to, and we are fortunate to call these strong people our family.<br />
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For those of us whose families were a part of this iconic image (and event) from 88 years ago, we are happy to take a moment to honor them today. Not only are they remembered for being a part of the historic photo, but for all that they endured while coming to this Country from their homeland. Many left the last of their family behind, never to be seen again, while others lost family members who had survived the trip, but died after arriving here. The banner photo you see above perhaps symbolizes the bravery and determination of our ancestors to make a better life for themselves and their children. We would like to believe that we and our own children are an extension of those peoples' dreams realized.Frank J. Rosaiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14129043387333271452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-91645012105473545572011-06-27T19:15:00.004-04:002011-06-27T19:34:49.929-04:00The July 4th Tomato Challenge.<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-95v6KcY1x-I/TgkSSsjkZbI/AAAAAAAAAJE/pQfkbZ2n6ZI/s1600/250px-Tomato_plant.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 250px; height: 245px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623045722156066226" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-95v6KcY1x-I/TgkSSsjkZbI/AAAAAAAAAJE/pQfkbZ2n6ZI/s320/250px-Tomato_plant.jpg" /></a><br /><div> </div><div> </div><div>When I was a boy, my grandfather had an extensive garden. My sister and I saw it so regularly that we eventually became desensitized by it. We figured everyone must have a garden so extravagant, with such a variety of fruits and vegetables, since Grandpop Salvo made it all look so easy.</div><div> </div><div>It wasn't until I was much older that I learned about one of the little challenges my grandfather would have running "behind the scenes" of his lavish garden. My father told me one day that Grandpop Salvo and his gardening cronies had a yearly challenge running amongst them. The challenge was simple in nature, yet a pretty involved task: have a red tomato either on the vine, or picked, by 4th of July..</div><div> </div><div>At face value, it doesn't sound like much of a challenge. But anyone who has ever grown a tomato plant knows there's more to it than meets the eye. Yeah, tomato plants are pretty self-sufficient and all, however they require a great deal of watering, monitoring, and even protection from the local wildlife! Therefore, anyone who thinks this challenge is for the faint of heart is definitely missing some facts.</div><div> </div><div>This is my second year of growing tomatoes myself, and last week I put word out to my gardening family members that the 4th of July was right around the corner, and I reminded all of them about Grandpop Salvo's tomato challenge. This year, my Aunt Alma seems to be the one in the target audience to have the first red tomato. It's a CHERRY tomato, but hey- we can't get picky now, can we?</div><div> </div><div>I hope that this article sparks some fond memories for our readers. If your family follows the same tradition, we'd love to hear about it!</div><div> </div><div> </div></div>Jim Brady IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703199630912799282noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-25716777826694357702011-03-27T21:21:00.000-04:002011-03-27T21:21:29.323-04:00Bertù ‘d Tzunìn: ur cowboy ‘d Prati Proia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EoSEKjF2Az8/TY_iMEcoQWI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/CLhRLvyuzMI/s1600/ElyNevada.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EoSEKjF2Az8/TY_iMEcoQWI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/CLhRLvyuzMI/s320/ElyNevada.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Though the Giusvallini that settled in the Wilmington, Delaware area around the turn of the 20th century represent the largest group of immigrants from Giusvalla to settle in one place in the United States, there were certainly others who sought their fortunes in other places throughout the country. The Pizzorno family settled in the Buffalo, New York area, there were a handful of Baccino, Perrone and Rabellino immigrants who went to San Francisco, the descendants of Silvio Baccino went to the southwestern corner of Pennsylvania .... just to name a few. The experiences of these Giusvallini immigrants surely differed greatly from our gang of ancestors who worked for the DuPont family in the powder mills or went into the mushroom business.<br />
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Perhaps no experience could have been more different than that of Bartolomeo “Bertù” Carlo Zunino. Bertù first came to the United States in 1907. Like most of his friends from back home, he arrived through Ellis Island. However where most went directly to “Henry Clay Factory, Wilmington, Delaware,” Bertù “went west.” In those days, the desert towns in White Pine County, Nevada offered two means of livelihood: ranching or copper mining. What attracted Bertù to the Wild West remains a mystery, but local records reveal the names of several Italians, so perhaps word of opportunity in that part of the U.S. had come to the Giusvalla area and the romantic notion of the cowboy lifestyle appealed to young Bertù? Certainly many a young giusvallino had gone to South America in pursuit of a similar lifestyle as a gaucho. What is known for a fact is that Bertù went to Nevada and worked for a local rancher named William N. McGill on the Cleveland Ranch in Spring Valley, which at the time was the largest and most successful cattle ranch in the area. Bertù became a real life cowboy, tending the cattle on the vast Cleveland Ranch on horseback. In 1915, he became a naturalized U.S. citizen and later that year returned to Italy for a few years to care for his aging father. When Bertù returned to the U.S. in 1920, he went back to Spring Valley and with the small inheritance he received from his father, he was able to invest as a partner in his own ranch.<br />
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During the 1920s, Bertù and his friend Antonio Persico operated a small cattle ranch just outside of Spring Valley. Bertù must have been a solitary man, he never married and spent the remainder of his years quietly tending cattle on his patch of desert among the vast Nevada wilderness. The cowboy from località Prati Proia died on his little ranch during the 1940s and was laid to rest in the dusty ground that was once roamed by the native Shoshone, old cowpokes, Mormon settlers and stagecoach drivers ....Frank J. Rosaiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14129043387333271452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-73291071451827526942011-03-02T21:05:00.005-05:002011-11-24T20:12:31.094-05:00The Matteo Letters.<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nBoMk6ZIRNs/TW74epEl_fI/AAAAAAAAAI4/jR4y3MiuW9g/s1600/env_matteo_01281976.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579670193663507954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 162px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nBoMk6ZIRNs/TW74epEl_fI/AAAAAAAAAI4/jR4y3MiuW9g/s320/env_matteo_01281976.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />
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<div>This article is for all of our readers out there who not only share in our Giusvallin background, but in our pack-rat-type tendencies as well…<br />
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In January of this year, I needed to go out to our shed in the back yard for some necessary cleanup and reorganization. This shed came to our home around 1999-2000, and over the years it has amassed quite a variety of different, shall I say, “inventory”.<br />
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A couple of years back, my mother provided me with a large stack of old family photos, many of which at the time did not have corresponding names to go with the faces. With the help of Frank Rosaio and his family, almost every single photo was miraculously identified. Some of those photos even exist in the archives of this website today. The reason I am making reference to this event is because at the same time those photos were forwarded to me, it was also explained to me that there were other family relics still stored “somewhere” (and in my family, ‘somewhere’ is a pretty big place). Among those relics were supposed letters that my Aunt Theresa (Tortarolo) Angelone had received from friends and family over the years, all of the way up until her death in 1983.<br />
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Returning back to my shed-cleaning experience, the event prompted me to have to move quite a few items around, and also throw some things away. The necessity of having to do these various tasks forced me to have to move some things around which had not been touched in quite some time. Some of the items in that shed were most likely even brought in around the timeframe of 1999-2000, put down in what was to be a “temporary” location at that particular moment, and now here, 11-12 years later, they are just being touched once again..<br />
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As I moved the various boxes, tools, and other miscellany around, a box made of white cardboard managed to fall, which I had not remembered touching or even bumping to make it do so. As I approached the box, I noticed that the side that was facing me was the bottom of the box, and its contents had spilled onto the floor behind an old sewing machine. I was somewhat frustrated when it happened, as my job at that point in the shed was to be cleaning up, and this box spilling over just added to the “cleaning up” part of my work out there. I sighed and leaned over the sewing machine to see just how much extra work I was in for. When I looked down, I noticed what appeared to be a small stack of envelopes, white with red and blue borders all of the way around them. They were basically all face-down, and although I could see some writing on them, it wasn’t clear enough for me to see the details of the writing. It only took me a second, however, to realize that the stack of letters, lying on the floor of this dirty old shed, were no doubt letters sent to someone in my family from Europe. As I bent down and picked them up, I immediately started to see names on the backs of them like BAGNUS, GIORDANO, BROCCOLI, and one that really jumped out at me: TORTAROLO. The names I was seeing corresponded to the return addresses on the back, and as I flipped over the envelopes, they all read: “Theresa Angelone”, “Mrs. Theresa Angelone”, “Arthur and Theresa Angelone”. I just stood there, speechless. The missing letters my mother had told me about had just surfaced.<br />
I began opening the letters right there in the shed, and was so astonished by what I was seeing. There were so many different types of formats: handwritten on regular paper, handwritten on decorative letter paper, handwritten on tissue-like paper, typed on regular paper, there were so many different features to all of them. Some had the same type of handwriting from the start of a letter to its end, some had different types of handwriting all found within the same letter, it was such an incredible moment. As I looked over all of the letters and started to put them in some type of organized fashion (even if they’d been organized in the box, they certainly didn’t stay that way once they’d hit the floor), one name really started to jump out at me. One letter, after another, after another, the backs read TORTAROLO, MATTEO e ENRICHETTA.<br />
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For our readers who are not already aware, it is the lineage of the Tortarolo family that makes Frank and I part of the same family. When Theresa’s parents, Valentino and Luigia, both died from the flu of 1918, Theresa came to live with my Salvo family, and her 2 siblings, Egidio and Josephine, went to live with Frank’s family. Theresa went on to marry Arthur Angelone, and to be honest, it wasn’t until I was much older that I’d learn more about her Tortarolo lineage, and, more specifically, its connection to my own family history.<br />
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The “Matteo letters” (as Frank and I came to call them while translating them) highlight events and family information from the period of 1962 to 1970 (the image that accompanies this post is from a letter that came from Matteo in 1976; however, only the envelope remains). They not only contain general correspondence between Theresa and her family back in Italy, but they also provide amazing details regarding ‘known’ family members, as well as relatives yet to be identified in the family tree as well! The letters were truly an invaluable find.<br />
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So, for those of you who find yourself saving various pieces of documentation without being able to justify to yourself why you are doing it: maybe it’s because God is asking you to put them aside for someone else…. </div>Jim Brady IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703199630912799282noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-80951969483943773042010-12-24T08:03:00.003-05:002010-12-24T08:08:59.218-05:00La Strega di Natale<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TRSbISR49dI/AAAAAAAAAI8/f3lvjLvUm4c/s1600/StregadiNatale.2.jmp.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 145px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TRSbISR49dI/AAAAAAAAAI8/f3lvjLvUm4c/s200/StregadiNatale.2.jmp.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554234807102797266" /></a><br />Maria Fiorenzano was one of the little trovatelli of Giusvalla .... born to a young unwed mother among <em>i brichi ed i boschi</em>, Maria was given the surname “Fiorenzano.” The floral reference was typical of almost all the little trovatelli of Giusvalla, however the name carries another connotation which was most certainly intended by Maria’s mother to impart a blessing of hope and good wishes upon her unfortunate baby girl. Maria was born on Christmas Eve in the year 1832, a time when the villagers of Giusvalla still held tightly to the old beliefs and folklore. A baby girl born on Christmas Eve was said to be destined to become a witch. This old superstition would not have been lost on the townfolk of Giusvalla. And so perhaps Maria’s sanguine surname was intended by her mother to counteract a curse.<br /> <br />The details of Maria’s childhood have been lost to time, and there is no reason to believe that the old Italian superstition came true and she became a witch. If anything, the good fortune that her mother hoped for her seemed to follow her through life. Maria married young to a well-to-do merchant from Piemonte and moved with him to his hometown in the province of Cuneo where they raised a large family. When Maria died on December 31, 1894, she was said to be “possidente” (wealthy).<br /><br /><em>Bun Natòl a tùcci vuiocci!</em>Frank J. Rosaiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14129043387333271452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-1633312814969849382010-11-28T15:40:00.003-05:002010-11-28T19:58:20.785-05:00The Dowry of a Giusvalla Bride<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TPK-wxEcx-I/AAAAAAAAAI0/uWoOeRrwmRI/s1600/Perrone.PesceWedding.1911.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 144px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TPK-wxEcx-I/AAAAAAAAAI0/uWoOeRrwmRI/s200/Perrone.PesceWedding.1911.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544703836261500898" /></a><br />In the days of our Giusvallini great-grandparents, the selection of a spouse was most often something along the lines of a financial transaction between two families. The process began with an agreement between two local families, the motivation was not necessarily one borne out of love or mutual affection between two young people. We are all familiar with the old stories of arranged marriages, perhaps some of these family stories have even made their way down through the generations .... sad stories of a great-grandmother who was in love with the boy from a neighboring farm, but was forced to marry another because the decision of who she was to marry was left in the hands of her parents. Such was life in the days of our forefathers, families did whatever was necessary to ensure their survival and this meant that sacrifices and difficult decisions sometimes had to be made. Sometimes our great-grandparents grew to love one another, other times they managed to learn to live with each other. Ultimately, divorce was not a possibility and the only sustainable option was to accept one’s fate and find a way to get through life.<br /><br />The more traditional aspects of the arranged marriage varied from town to town and depended on what was locally considered valuable. The process was simple enough; the father of the girl would offer a <em>dote</em> (dowry) to the father of a local boy who he felt would make a good husband and provide well for his daughter. If the father of the boy accepted the offer, the girl and boy would accompany their parents to the local notary, where the financial aspects of the agreement would be formally recorded, as well as the intention and promise of the two young people to marry. Once the dote was witnessed and signed, it became a legal and binding contract. A breach of the contract meant financial loss to the family of the girl and the shame of rejection brought upon the boy and his family - it was understandably a rare occurrence.<br /><br />Within a few weeks of the dote (and the subsequent payment to the family of the boy), the marriage ceremony would take place at the local parish church, or if the bride was from a neighboring town, the marriage would be celebrated at the parish in her hometown. Sometimes a family could not afford to make a lump payment of the dote, and in those cases a sort of “payment plan” would be made .... the dote might be 500 lire, paid in increments of 100 lire over a five year period. At the end of the five years and after the final payment (or in the event that the family of the groom for some reason decided to release the family of the bride from the balance of the original dote), a <em>quittanza dote</em> would be made between the two families. Again the notary would draw up the document stating that the debt had been satisfied and the family of the bride was released from its obligation.<br /><br />In Giusvalla, the most prized and valuable dote was farmable land or property that included chestnut trees. Only the wealthiest families (and in Giusvalla there were few) could spare family land for the dowry of a daughter. The next most valuable dote came in the form of cash. Families that were better off could afford larger cash dowries, so when the wealthy father of Angela Maria Massa offered the family of Giuseppe Anselmi a dote of 700 lire, there was surely no question that it would be accepted. Poorer families were able to make far less lucrative offers, the young orphan Maddalena Angela Caterina Beltrame had been left a dowry of just 155 lire in the will of her father. It was hoped that it would be enough for the young girl to find a husband when the time came. Maddalena’s brother Giovanni Battista Beltrame was named the trustee of her dowry, and fortunately when Maddalena was old enough (maybe only 14 years old), a local widower named Gioanni Doglio accepted the offer.<br /><br />Most of the families in Giusvalla were very poor, and the dowries of the poorest might consist only of a goat, or a bushel of chestnuts. The tradition of the dote continued virtually unchanged in Giusvalla (and throughout Italy) for hundreds of years. In the years between the World Wars, the custom fell out of practice and the young people of Giusvalla were free to choose their own spouses. Even so, for many years after, marriages outside of Giusvalla (or, at worst, a neighboring town) were still viewed with much disdain. When my cousin married a young man from Calabria in 1966, her parents did not approve, but ultimately the marriage took place and in time they came to accept the Calabrese boy with the strange customs and nearly unintelligible accent.<br /><br /><em>U temp u viagia … e lòchi u’na nent ritörn.</em><br /><br />In the picture: <em>Giuseppina Pesce & Giovanni Battista "Batistén" Perrone on their wedding day, October 5, 1911.</em>Frank J. Rosaiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14129043387333271452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-7210426902713289282010-09-24T17:31:00.003-04:002010-09-24T17:37:21.009-04:00La chiesetta di Lalla Pina<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TJ0ZPYJhdCI/AAAAAAAAAIk/B3ujY59N_Kw/s1600/LaChiesetta.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 303px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TJ0ZPYJhdCI/AAAAAAAAAIk/B3ujY59N_Kw/s320/LaChiesetta.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520596470197220386" /></a><br />Grandmom Rosaio was proud of her chiesetta, the little “church” she had built in the yard next to her house where she displayed statues of the Blessed Mother and her favorite saints. It was another tradition she brought with her from her hometown of Giusvalla, where <em>le chiesette</em> dot the countryside .... little “churches” that were erected by Giusvallini families to honor Our Lady or a saint to whom they had a particular devotion. Some of the chiesette were large enough to accommodate a small altar with a few pews. La Chiesetta della Madonna del Deserto (loc. Mulino), la Chiesetta della Madonna della Guardia (loc. Riondi) and la Chiesetta del Bambin di Praga (loc. Ciocchini) are the largest of the chiesette, each big enough on its own to resemble a small church. Others (loc. Caporali, Pimpiri, Zambon, etc.) were no bigger than a refrigerator box, with an opening where a statue and some candles could be placed and a stone at the base of the structure to kneel on.<br /><br />Each chiesetta carries its own history, often intertwined with the history of a particular family in Giusvalla. The history of the chiesetta devoted to Our Lady of the Desert at località Mulino begins in the early 1910s with a man named Carlo Marenco who made a special promise to the Blessed Mother. Carlo’s son had been injured when a sharp piece of metal cut a deep gash into his leg. The leg became infected, and it appeared likely that the leg would have to be amputated. Carlo’s vow to the Blessed Mother was that if through her intercession his son’s leg healed and was spared amputation, he would build a chapel that he and all his descendants would maintain in her honor. And so when his son’s leg healed in spite of the doctor’s dire prediction, Carlo made good on his promise and the Chiesetta della Madonna del Deserto was built – and is maintained by Carlo’s descendants to this day.<br /><br />Grandmom’s chiesetta was quite modest compared to Carlo Marenco’s grand chapel at Mulino. But we all knew her devotion to the little church in her yard, and the marvelous sight of the pious convocation of the Blessed Mother, the Infant of Prague and Grandmom’s favorite saints – St. Anthony of Padua, St. Joseph and St. Jude – is something we all remember with great fondness.Frank J. Rosaiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14129043387333271452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-50929382297990480162010-09-15T09:23:00.003-04:002010-09-15T12:10:29.582-04:00What’s in a name?<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TJDJDl5fHVI/AAAAAAAAAIc/TVriY9lAEfo/s1600/Arms19.bmp"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 154px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TJDJDl5fHVI/AAAAAAAAAIc/TVriY9lAEfo/s200/Arms19.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517130607078874450" /></a><br />The etymology of Italian surnames is a fascinating topic to which my humble blogging could never do justice. Nor do I presume to be an expert on the topic, but for the casual family historian there are some basics I’ve learned over the years that may help you understand the origin of your Italian family name.<br /><br />It wasn’t until the 15th century that the use of surnames began to take hold in the area that became Italy – and throughout Europe for that matter. As the human population exploded after the plague ridden Middle Ages, the use of a surname became essential, as you might guess, in order to distinguish one individual from another. The Council of Trent decreed what was really the first official act that required the recording of an individual with both their Christian name and surname in the parish registers throughout Europe.<br /><br />But where did these names come from?<br /><br />Probably the most common origin of the surname in Italy can be attributed to <em>patronymics</em>, where an individual came to be known through his connection to another person, usually his father. Therefore, Giovanni, the son of Antonio, might be called “Giovanni di Antonio.” Surnames such as “de Bartolomeis” (son of Bartolomeo) “Perrone” (son of Piero) and “Gerardi” (son of Gerardo) all reflect the given name of some remote ancestor.<br /><br />Other Italian surnames are derived from a <em>geographical</em> reference. For example, Anthony of the town of Padua might have been called “Antonio di Padova,” or James who lived on the little hill might have been known as “Giacomo Collina.” Another common surname origin is related to an <em>occupation</em>, such as Tortarolo (miller of flour), Ferraro (smith/blacksmith), Vaccaro (herdsman), Pastore (shepherd), etc.<br /><br />Still other Italian surnames originate in a <em>nickname</em> that was given to an ancestor. Giuseppe with a red beard may have become known as “Giuseppe Rossi,” or Marco with curly hair may have been called “Marco Ricci.” These surnames could derive from any physical or personality trait. The soldiers of the local nobleman “Bonifacio il Vasto,” who controlled the territory in the area that is now Giusvalla and the surrounding towns, became known by the nickname “i Bonifacini” - or individually - “Bonifacino.” Due to the many soldiers who were known by this nickname, the surname Bonifacino became quite common in the various towns throughout the Val Bormida.<br /><br />Other Italian family names originated in the custom of giving an invented surname to children that were born out of wedlock or abandoned by their parents. These surnames were sometimes created by the child’s mother, or by the priest who recorded the baptism or the official who recorded the birth in the town hall. Different towns had different traditions when it came to naming their illegitimate or abandoned babies. Some towns named the babies after the month they were born in (Aprile, Ottobre, etc.), other towns gave the babies floral sounding names (Mirto, Fiorello, Mela). Surnames such as Esposito (exposed) and Trovato (found) were sometimes given to abandoned babies. <br /><br />Dozens of surnames often evolved from the “root” name, so a simple surname like “di Giovanni” could take on many forms: Giovannoni, Giovanelli, Giova, Giannoni, Zunino, etc.<br /><br />A vitally important consideration for the family historian is the distinction of unrelated families who share a common surname. Just like Anglo surnames such as “Johnson,” “Baker” and “Miller,” many Italian surnames are quite common and therefore it would be completely inaccurate to assume that two people with the same surname, even those living in a small town like Giusvalla, are related. The only way to prove that any two people are related is through genealogical research that documents a paper trail for both individuals back to a common ancestor.Frank J. Rosaiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14129043387333271452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-78819978228725499492010-09-08T18:48:00.002-04:002010-09-08T18:53:52.269-04:00The Becco Sisters<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TIgTB3pvdXI/AAAAAAAAAIU/gKnGYTGyALE/s1600/Carlotta.Francesca.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 208px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TIgTB3pvdXI/AAAAAAAAAIU/gKnGYTGyALE/s320/Carlotta.Francesca.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514678666554996082" /></a><br />Many of we Giusvallini here in the U.S. and our cousins in Italy are descended from the Becco sisters – Francesca (Becco) Pesce and Carlotta (Becco) Bazzano. Francesca was the mother of eight children, six of whom came to the U.S. as adults before Francesca herself came over in 1910 at the age of 59. Carlotta, who was 10 years younger than Francesca, was the mother of six children, two of whom came to the U.S. Carlotta stayed in Giusvalla, but came over to visit her two sons in the 1930s.<br /><br />Francesca and Carlotta were among the large brood of children born to Francesco Becco and his wife Margherita. One of their brothers, Carlo Becco, married in 1876 to Angela Beltrame, a relative of the Carozzo and Camoirano families. Another sister, Giuseppina Becco, married Pietro Reverdito and their son Lorenzo came to Squirrel Run in 1910. Lorenzo was a gardener for the DuPont family for many years, then worked as a mushroom farmer and stone mason.<br /><br />Francesca was a tiny woman, just over five feet. She became the matriarch of her large brood of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren and was known in the family as our “Mùma granda” and “Little Grandmom.” She lived with my great-grandmother up on the farm on Ebright Road, and my aunts often spoke of their memories of her as a kind and loving grandmother. She spoke only the Giusvalla dialect, and my aunts would reminisce about how they remembered her saying her prayers every night, kneeling beside her bed with her long hair hanging loose or in a braid down her back. Francesca died in 1940 at the age of 89, those who knew her during her lifetime still remember her with great fondness and much love.<br /><br />Carlotta was taller than her older sister Francesca. She and her husband Giovanni Callisto Bazzano lived in a little house right along the strada provinciale near the center of Giusvalla. Giovanni held the important position of local postmaster, a vocation that later passed to his son Cide. One of my cousins tells me that she remembers Cide as a tall man, always dressed up formally in a suit and a tie and having a very serious expression with a deep baritone voice. He must have struck quite an imposing presence. Cide would stop at the Cavallo Bianco every day on his walk home from work for a glass of red wine. He was the youngest of Carlotta’s children, and died in 1977 at the age of 79. Carlotta made a visit to her sons Pietro “Pete” and Amedeo “Dave” in Kennett Square in 1931. She was almost 70 years old at the time and made the trip by herself, traveling aboard the steamer ship “Augustus.” She died at home in Giusvalla in 1943.<br /><br />Like the Biblical Rebekah, who became “the mother of thousands of millions,” Francesca and Carlotta were blessed with an enormous progeny. We their descendants remember them with great pride.<br /><br />In the picture: <em>The Becco sisters, Carlotta Bazzano and Francesca Pesce, visit in Kennett Square (summer 1931).</em>Frank J. Rosaiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14129043387333271452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-89792253828523272402010-08-18T19:09:00.003-04:002010-08-18T21:15:36.414-04:00Albert J. "Blue" Feliciani<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TGxo8ZhrNnI/AAAAAAAAAIE/6oV7Plx7kgE/s1600/CellinoAttanasio.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 204px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TGxo8ZhrNnI/AAAAAAAAAIE/6oV7Plx7kgE/s320/CellinoAttanasio.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506891831220844146" /></a><br />My family spoke with great fondness of our cousins Jennie and Blue. Jennie was a sweet and gentle soul like her mother Lalla Genia, with a touch of red in her hair. She passed away in 2002, the last of her family which included four older brothers. Jennie’s husband Blue was just as wonderful and kind as she, I always heard it said what <em>good</em> people they were. We were saddened to hear that Blue passed away this past Monday, August 16.<br /><br />We offer the following history in honor of Blue and Jennie.<br /><br />Albert J. “Blue” Feliciani was born March 30, 1920 in the little town of Cellino Attanasio, which is located in the province of Teramo in the Abruzzo region of Italy. His parents Giuseppe & Carmella (Ragazzo) Feliciani had returned to Italy in 1919, a couple years after they married in Delaware, and Blue was born during the time when they were living back in Italy. The family returned to the United States through Ellis Island on May 1, 1921 aboard the <em>S.S. Ferdinando Palasciano</em>. Blue was just a year old and his name was written as “Umberto” Feliciani on the ship manifest.<br /><br />A family legacy was born in the years following the Feliciani’s return to the United States. Blue’s father Giuseppe “Joseph” went to work as a gardener on the Henry Francis duPont estate “Winterthur” where his father-in-law Euplio “Abraham” Ragazzo was already employed as a carpenter. Joseph Feliciani worked on the Winterthur estate for 40 years, rising to the position of supervisor of the cutting garden. Blue followed in the steps of his father, he worked on the Winterthur estate for over 40 years, eventually taking over his father’s position of supervisor of the cutting garden. Blue’s son John continued the legacy, working on the Winterthur estate for nearly 40 years until his recent retirement.<br /><br />Blue and Jennie spent 58 years of married life together, they raised a family of three children and had six grandchildren. A new kind of legacy has blossomed over the past several years with the arrival of six great-grandchildren.<br /><br />Our deepest sympathies go out to Blue’s family - the kind and gentle nature of Blue and Jennie was well-known throughout the branches of your large extended family, and will not be soon forgotten.<br /><br />In the picture: <em>Cellino Attanasio, birthplace of Albert J. "Blue" Feliciani.</em>Frank J. Rosaiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14129043387333271452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-87230617234632775152010-08-18T10:02:00.002-04:002010-08-18T10:05:23.405-04:00The Paris Shoe Repairing Co.<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TGvoNqmjTsI/AAAAAAAAAH8/O1NyivQkqQk/s1600/210W8thSt.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 171px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TGvoNqmjTsI/AAAAAAAAAH8/O1NyivQkqQk/s320/210W8thSt.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506750290862493378" /></a><br />Giovanni Battista “Batistèn” Perrone came to Squirrel Run from Giusvalla in 1906. He was 25 years at the time and like his father “Piedrinìn,” he was a master shoemaker, so soon after his arrival he began making plans to start his own business in the city of Wilmington. He saved enough money working in the powder mills for a couple years to lease a building at 210 West 8th Street. Batistèn called his business the “Paris Shoe Repairing Co.” and hired other experienced Italians, including several of his fellow Giusvallini, to work in his shop. By the late 1910s, his business was doing very well; he had purchased the building on West 8th Street and a nice home at 3107 Monroe Street. He had a crew of many men and a secretary working for him. It is said in my family lore that his clients included various members of the DuPont family, and that he made special shoes for certain DuPonts that had particular podiatric needs.<br /><br />Batistèn’s family included his wife, Josephine (Pesce), and their children Antonia (who died at birth), Paolo (who died at the age of 13 months), Alicina “Elsie,” Anne and Johnny. His three sisters, Paolina Camoirano, Katie Rosaio and Maria Baccino also came over from Giusvalla and lived in the area with their families. Around the time that they all gathered together with the other Giusvallini families in 1923 for the “Tutti i Giusvallini” reunion, Batistèn had begun to develop stomach problems. The problem got worse over the next few months, and in mid April 1924 he underwent an operation at the University of Pennsylvania hospital in Philadelphia. Later that week, Batistèn became frustrated with his recovery and left the hospital, probably prematurely. When he arrived in the city of Wilmington, he lost his balance as he was stepping off the trolley car and stumbled into the street, further injuring himself. He was brought home where he died in bed a few hours later. He was just 43 years old.<br /><br />The funeral Mass for Batistèn was said at St. Patrick’s Church in Wilmington, and he was buried in St. Joseph-on-the-Brandywine Cemetery. <br /><br />In the picture: <em>The Paris Shoe Repairing Co. shop at 210 West 8th Street, Wilmington. Batistèn Perrone (owner) is on the far left. Also in this picture are Giusvallini Edgar Carozzo, Dave Bazzano and Henry Bonifacino.</em>Frank J. Rosaiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14129043387333271452noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-31266156033422083382010-08-10T19:05:00.004-04:002010-08-10T19:20:07.241-04:00Aj mei cüggèni<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TGHeojAmDHI/AAAAAAAAAH0/KUGzPnqqIq0/s1600/Grandmom%26Grandkids.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TGHeojAmDHI/AAAAAAAAAH0/KUGzPnqqIq0/s320/Grandmom%26Grandkids.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503925007797324914" /></a><br />I was just a young kid when I became interested in our family history, I was fortunate to be exposed to so much of it growing up among a close knit legion of aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents and great-grandparents – and a strong sense of the extended family. Even as a child, I had a natural curiosity in the previous generations, I listened to the conversations my elders would have about “the old days.” My father often spoke to my sister and I of Giusvalla and our family there, passing along the many stories he remembered hearing during his own childhood. With the encouragement of my Aunts Anne and Elsie, I began writing to a 2nd cousin of the same age in Giusvalla who has become like a brother over the years. Back then, there was no internet or email, and we had no computer in the house. Everything was written out by hand, and it was often many months in between each letter.<br /><br />Then when I started high school, I began researching our family history in earnest – that was almost 23 years ago now. There was still no such thing as the internet or email at that time. To trace your family tree you had to write letters to town halls, archives, courthouses and the like and wait for someone to look up the information for you, copy it and mail it back. Or go in person and look up the records yourself, sifting through drawers of dusty documents or carefully going line by line through bound copies of property deeds or probate records - hoping to find what you were searching for. If the records were microfilmed, you might spend hours in front of the microfilm reader, carefully reading each frame until your eyes went bleary. There were no instant answers "online," every step of the process required great <em>pazienza</em>. It has been quite a journey into the past.<br /><br />I’ve met some really wonderful people along the way, various cousins that the family has lost touch with over the years and other people who simply share my interest. Some cousins I’ve written to never write back, some fade away again after awhile and others I’ve become very close with over the years. The capacity of some people’s generosity is what is most memorable to me. Folks that I hardly know – some of them not even related – who have sent me the nicest letters or even treasured family pictures and the like – and those who have never had email or a computer but continue to write or call.<br /><br />How lucky I am to know such wonderful people, I am happy to call many of them “cousin.”<br /><br /><em>A nù nent parole per ringrazié aj mei cüggèni … che brovi ch’ishtei. Tanci grazie a tùcci!</em><br /><br />In the picture: <em>The Rosaio & Perrone cousins gather for Grandmom’s birthday, July 23, 1966.</em>Frank J. Rosaiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14129043387333271452noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-7744313115563856582010-08-08T14:40:00.003-04:002010-08-08T14:50:49.972-04:00A Great Day for a Tomato Sandwich..<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bNkUE465pHg/TF76bDKQA1I/AAAAAAAAAIg/SUiqYUMe1eI/s1600/tomato-sandwich.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503111137305035602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 230px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bNkUE465pHg/TF76bDKQA1I/AAAAAAAAAIg/SUiqYUMe1eI/s320/tomato-sandwich.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div>August is always a time of the year when tomato crops are in full harvest in virtually any Italian’s garden- I remember as a boy, hearing my Grandpop Salvo and my parents talking about having a “tomato sandwich” during this time of year and, as I’ve expressed in prior articles here, how hearing something like that as a child would simply blow me away.<br /><br />Growing up in America in the 1970s and 80s, anyone who watched TV for at least one hour during that era would be familiar with the variety of commercials pertaining to fast food. Every hamburger, for the most part, would always be topped with some kind of cheese, lettuce, and yes…. Tomato. If you went out to eat at any other kind of restaurant, a sandwich would most likely be served with lettuce, tomato, and a pickle (or something to that effect).<br /><br />So, having grown up in a world where tomato was the <em>garnish</em> of the sandwich, it amazed me that one could make a sandwich containing nothing other than…. Tomato!<br /><br />Nevertheless, since that time in my youth, I’ve had many a tomato sandwich, including the ones I ate today, which prompted this article. If your family indulges in this hidden treasure of simple Italian cuisine, please post a comment in response to this article. It’s always great hearing the feedback we receive from our reading community!</div>Jim Brady IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703199630912799282noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-23795586898042358432010-08-04T16:54:00.003-04:002010-08-04T16:59:57.451-04:00Ra shtoria d’ra Piazza Anselmi<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TFnUWKnoHFI/AAAAAAAAAHk/l8fnbEEALKE/s1600/PiazzaAnselmi.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 203px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TFnUWKnoHFI/AAAAAAAAAHk/l8fnbEEALKE/s320/PiazzaAnselmi.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501661897082543186" /></a><br />Visitors to Giusvalla may be surprised by the quiet rusticity of the little village they encounter. To reach Giusvalla from any direction, one must travel through areas of dense forest that open to areas of vast green countryside among the hills. The occasional stone farmhouses, most in various stages of dilapidation, leave no doubt about Giusvalla’s purely agrarian past. The main road by which one arrives at the tiny <em>centro storico</em> of Giusvalla is the <em>strada provinciale</em> (provincial road 542). If you enter from the west (from Dego) you are welcomed to the center of Giusvalla by the unforgettable sight of the twin rows of twisted and gnarled locust trees that line the strada .... “<em>zû dar gazìe</em>.” According to tradition, the trees were planted by the French who occupied Giusvalla during the first Napoleonic campaign in the late 1790s.<br /><br />The tiny center of Giusvalla is composed of little more than the parish church of San Maté and the little town hall. Across from the town hall is a modern looking one-story structure that was built as the community center “<em>la Croce Bianca</em>” in the early 1990s. There is a small memorial with the names of the men from Giusvalla who fought in the First and Second World Wars, then just a bit further down the strada one reaches the <em>Piazza Anselmi</em> which boasts a small produce shop and the Cavallo Bianco restaurant. After one passes the brief outcropping of buildings that comprise the tiny “center” of Giusvalla, the strada almost immediately disappears again into the countryside as one makes their way past località Perroni and on to the town of Pontinvrea.<br /><br />The “Piazza Anselmi” was so named after a Giusvalla native named Pio Felice Anselmi (1819-1869), who fought for Italian independence and unification under Giuseppe Garibaldi, and his brother Don Giovanni Battista Anselmi (1802-1885), who was the pastor of the church of San Maté in Giusvalla for many years. The Anselmi family came to Giusvalla in 1764 from a town in Piemonte called Strevi. On July 11th of that year, brothers Giuseppe and Michele Anselmi of Strevi leased the mill owned by Antonio Maria Buschiazzo at località Mulino in Giusvalla. The mill and the attached property were gradually acquired by the descendants of the Anselmi family, and remained in the family until the late 19th century when it was leased to the Zunino brothers.<br /><br />A small handful of descendants of the Anselmi family remain in Giusvalla and the surrounding towns, though none carry the family name, and many descendants now live in South America and France. I am proud to be related to the Anselmi family through both of my paternal grandparents.<br /><br />In the picture: <em>View of the center of Giusvalla and the Piazza Anselmi, circa 1945</em>Frank J. Rosaiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14129043387333271452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-90836336079146612422010-07-12T19:28:00.005-04:002010-07-13T10:47:17.744-04:00I fiëj ‘d Pietrìn ur Palardèn<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TDul-vGr1JI/AAAAAAAAAHc/WhxfPPYDJ0s/s1600/IMG_2139.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TDul-vGr1JI/AAAAAAAAAHc/WhxfPPYDJ0s/s320/IMG_2139.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493166667723429010" /></a><br />Judging from his <em>straninome</em> alone, it appears my ancestor Pietro Perrone “<em>Palardèn</em>” must have been someone of great respect in Giusvalla. Whatever specific actions warranted him that fine nickname have been lost to time, but it’s apparent from other sources that Pietro was someone who was trusted and relied upon by his fellow Giusvallìn. His name appears over and over among the town records, as arbitrator, town councilman and witness to various important documents. As a respected town elder, he was appointed mayor of Giusvalla in the 1830s. He is also recorded throughout the church records of <em>San Matè</em>, it is apparent that he was an active and faithful parishioner.<br /> <br />Pietro was born in Giusvalla in 1773 and was a son of Gaspare Perrone and Caterina Scarrone. He is called “<em>contadino</em>” (farmer) on the early records, as the eldest son he inherited the farm on the family homestead at <em>ra Collà</em>. Pietro married Angela Maria Caterina Doglio in 1799 and became the father of ten children and through them, the scion of one of the largest Perrone families in Giusvalla …. quite a feat when you consider that each of the many <em>brichi ed Giusvalla</em> had their own Perrone clan. By the time of his death in 1855, he is called “<em>possidente</em>” (wealthy); it is evident that Pietro “Palardèn” lived a fruitful and industrious life.<br /><br />Pietro’s eldest son, Gaspare Perrone “<em>Gashpèn ‘d Palardèn</em>,” inherited the family farm at ra Collà, he followed in his father’s footsteps and married a local girl, Margherita Baccino, with whom he had a large brood of ten children of his own. Catasti records indicate that Gaspare made certain improvements to his father’s farm at ra Collà, and that the farm included a respectable number of livestock (an indication of prosperity in oft-impoverished Giusvalla). Several of Gaspare’s children were among the first waves of Giusvallini immigrants to South America. In fact, later in life, Gaspare accompanied his daughter Adelaide and her family to Montevideo, Uruguay, where he died in 1876 at the age of 76.<br /><br />Following in the tradition, Gaspare’s eldest son Lorenzo Antonio Perrone remained on the family farm at ra Collà, where he honored the other tradition of having a large family. Lorenzo and his wife, Maria Luigia Perrone (from the Perrone family “dei Galletti”) had nine children, including my 2nd great-grandmother, Maria Caterina “<em>Marinìn</em>.”<br /><br />Our “<em>mùma granda</em>” Marinìn never came to the United States, but her son Francesco “<em>Franceschèn</em>” Rosaio did, and so did her brother Antonio Perrone. Both my great-grandfather Rosaio and his uncle “<em>Borba Tunèn</em>” initially worked for the DuPont family; my great-grandfather in the powder mills and Borba Tunèn as a carpenter and stone mason in the Hagley yard. By 1917, my great-grandfather was in the mushroom business on his own farm on Ebright Road (and had married a girl from yet another Perrone family of Giusvalla – Caterina Perrone “<em>Catarinìn ‘d Piedrinìn</em>”).<br /><br />After the powder mills closed, Borba Tunèn went to work as a stonemason on the Henry F. DuPont estate at Winterthur. But he deserves a story of his own.<br /><br />In the picture: <em>The road to località Collà, ancestral home of my Perrone ancestors - ch’è balli ch’j sun i brichi ed Giusvalla!</em>Frank J. Rosaiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14129043387333271452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-29418345562995298822010-07-05T19:22:00.003-04:002010-07-05T19:34:39.776-04:00Winterthur 2010 Attendance List<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bNkUE465pHg/TDJr8amyXjI/AAAAAAAAAIY/xTRvnkCAfPg/s1600/winterthur_guests.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490569581396385330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 154px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bNkUE465pHg/TDJr8amyXjI/AAAAAAAAAIY/xTRvnkCAfPg/s320/winterthur_guests.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div>As many already know, "Proud To Be Italian" day at Winterthur turned out to be a huge success. Frank and I (as well as the staff at Winterthur) were very pleased with all who'd taken the time out of their already short-and-packed weekend agendas, to come and see all that we'd worked to put together.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>In the midst of the event, my mother, Marianne (Salvo) Brady, thought it might be a good idea to place a "sign-in" sheet on the exhibit display table, to help in capturing the names of some of the many who'd come out to Winterthur for the day. After finding out about what she had done, I was so happy to see that my mother had taken the initiative to do this. There were so many people present for the event whom I'd never met before, and I feel that this list really helped in being able to capture a glimpse of the many who helped in making this event so memorable.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Although these sheets do not include all of the individuals who came out that day, I wanted to pay tribute to those who had taken the time to jot their names down for us. Hopefully after you signed, you were able to get a piece of the Torrone too! (click on the image to see it in enlarged form)</div>Jim Brady IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703199630912799282noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-77661165908792011572010-07-05T13:58:00.006-04:002011-11-19T20:59:37.472-05:00Life at Vicari<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TDIeOZ4nhGI/AAAAAAAAAHU/bCuCmJBXn6g/s1600/Barbiella.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TDIeOZ4nhGI/AAAAAAAAAHU/bCuCmJBXn6g/s320/Barbiella.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490484128533415010" /></a><br />
Up the winding road about a mile past his father’s farm at Barbiella, my great-grandfather Rosaio would have arrived at <i>ra ca deŕ Vicoŕi</i> (località Vicari) and the home of the Buschiazzo family. In those days, it was common for young adults – and even children – to leave the family home to go to work on the farm of a neighboring family. The work was generally unpaid, but it alleviated the burden on the family when children could be sent to live with a neighboring family, where they would “earn their keep” by helping out on the farm. Times were much different in the days of our grandparents and great-grandparents; families did whatever was necessary to survive. My great-grandfather went to work on the farm at Vicari as a young boy.<br />
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Località Vicari is located northwest of the center of Giusvalla – the farm would have consisted of perhaps two cleared acres among the heavily forested hills. The road that led from the “<em>strada provinciale</em>” to Vicari was dirt (it still is today), one would pass the small farm and the Ca’d Tunòn at Barbiella to the right while making the way to Vicari. My great-grandfather’s father Tunòn was considered extremely fortunate, his farm at Barbiella included “<em>duj bùi</em>” – two large steer – so he did not have to till the rocky soil of his farm by hand. <em>I bùi ‘d Tunòn</em> came to him by way of a tumultuous agreement he reached with his brother Gianòn in settling their late father’s estate – Tunòn got the steer and Gianòn got the small house off the main road. It is said that Tunòn got the better end of that deal.<br />
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Like all the farms in Giusvalla, the Buschiazzo farm at Vicari was modest and hardscrabble. The small family home was a field stone and wood beam structure – one level – consisting of a kitchen and perhaps two bedrooms. There may have been a tiny root cellar or cold shed beneath the house. There was of course, no running water – it was taken from a nearby spring or stream. There was a small stone barn where the cow, pig and goat were kept – if the family was fortunate enough to have them. This is where my great-grandfather and any other farm hands would have slept as well. The Buschiazzo house maid, Lucia Ancili, would have slept in the main house, probably in the kitchen.<br />
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The main crops in Giusvalla at the time were <em>granturco</em> (corn) and <em>fieno</em> (hay). My great-grandfather helped with the tilling of the fields – the Buschiazzo family did not have any “<em>bùi</em>” so this was done by hand – then the planting and harvesting. The family also kept a garden, fruit trees and of course the beloved “<em>cashtagne</em>.” The families in Giusvalla tried their best to preserve enough of the harvest to last through the long and cold winters there. This was not an easy task. If the family was lucky enough to have a pig, it would be slaughtered near harvest time and the meat would be cured or made into <em>sotìzza</em> and stored in the cold shed. Every bit of the pig was utilized in some way, they wasted nothing. The men would hunt wild boar and deer in the abundant <em>boschi</em> throughout Giusvalla in order to help put a little meat on the table. Portabello and porcini mushrooms would have been another staple, harvested throughout the summer in Giusvalla’s abundant forests and dried in the sun to preserve them for future use. Many a meal would have been made of polenta with mushrooms. If the harvest was bad, or there was no pig that year, or the winter lingered a bit too long – or the family did not prepare adequately – they were in trouble. Malnourishment and even starvation was not uncommon.<br />
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It was a terribly difficult existence, but in the midst of it was life and love and friendship. In between the daily chores, my great-grandfather would have enjoyed a few minutes with his friends GioBatta Buschiazzo and Lucia Ancili. GioBatta left the farm at Vicari as a young man, he came to the United States and went to work for the DuPont family in the powder mills. He went back and forth from Italy to the U.S. a couple times over the years before returning permanently to take over the family farm at Vicari. He died there in 1963.<br />
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Little Lucia Ancili – like my great-grandfather – went to work on the farm at Vicari as a young girl. She worked in the main house and would have been responsible (among other things) for helping in the kitchen, the washing, the garden – and even the harvest, when <em>everyone</em> came out of the house to help in the fields. When Lucia came to the U.S. in 1912, she went to live with my great-grandfather Rosaio (who came in 1910). She never married and had developed tuberculosis and a deformity on her upper spine, my great-grandfather cared for Lucia until she passed away within a couple years of her arrival here in the U.S.<br />
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Life presented new challenges here in America, but a background of hard work and perseverance in Giusvalla prepared our grandparents and great-grandparents for anything. They worked hard and pushed forward, they became Americans and were proud to be here. My great-grandfather came here as a young man and within a few years was running his own farm of over 100 acres. I wonder what he dreamed about after those long days tilling the rocky fields at Vicari – could he have ever imagined the opportunities that lay ahead in America?<br />
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In the picture: <em>View of the abandoned remains of ra ca’d Tunòn at Barbiella, from the road to Vicari.</em>Frank J. Rosaiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14129043387333271452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-32564142805978038102010-06-26T11:07:00.003-04:002010-06-26T11:14:05.096-04:00Il buon dottore Bigatti<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TCYZOPxaWkI/AAAAAAAAAHM/jJfwFgtL_1E/s1600/Ca+d%27Bigatti.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 209px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TCYZOPxaWkI/AAAAAAAAAHM/jJfwFgtL_1E/s320/Ca+d%27Bigatti.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487100928540170818" /></a><br />Dr. Ottaviano Bigatti and his wife Laura Pane came to Giusvalla near the end of the 19th century from Piemonte. For a tiny village like Giusvalla, it was a rare blessing to have an experienced doctor like Dr. Bigatti in their midst. The Bigatti family settled into their new home at No. 30 Via Montenotte, right along the modest Piazza Anselmi. The property included a private garden and a separate kitchen and cold shed, and the first floor of the two story house was used as the office and examination room of Dr. Bigatti. The house was one room deep, so as you entered the small central foyer on the first floor there was a room on either side, and a winding staircase that led to a second floor landing, with a bedroom on each side. It was considered an extremely comfortable home in comparison to the rustic farms and shacks that dotted the countryside.<br /><br />In spite of his reported enthusiasm for <em>vino rosso</em>, Dr. Bigatti was said to be a first rate doctor and surgeon. His services were highly sought throughout Giusvalla and the surrounding towns, it is said he would travel through the worst snow storm to call on his patients who required medical attention. Dr. Bigatti’s wife, “<em>ra Madama</em>” Laura, became the maestra at the little schoolhouse in Giusvalla. The Bigattis had two children: son, Gino, who became a chemist and daughter, Giovanna, who took her mother’s place as the maestra at the school in Giusvalla – a career that she held for almost her entire life and whose students still remember her fondly. Both the Bigatti children lived as adults with their parents and never married. The Bigatti household also included the girls that the doctor employed to help with the housework and cooking – Marì dei Ninoni and Carmelina della Casùrera. Marì worked for the Bigatti family until she married her husband Gianèn and moved to Taranco and Carmelina remained in the services of the family right up until the doctor’s death.<br /><br />After the death of Dr. Bigatti, his house was purchased by the family of my cousin Enzo – the old examination room was converted to a kitchen and his office was made into a living room. Dr. Bigatti bequeathed his beloved maid Carmelina a small apartment that adjoined the main house. Her daughter Emma continues to live in the apartment today, with her daughter Giovanna and granddaughter Simona.<br /><br />The Bigatti family – Dr. Ottaviano, Madama Laura, Gino the chemist and Maestra Giovanna – are all now just another memory in Giusvalla lore. They rest together in the little cemetery in Giusvalla.<br /><br />In the photo: <em>il dottore Ottaviano Bigatti and his house</em>Frank J. Rosaiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14129043387333271452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-18042181683156897162010-06-20T10:20:00.005-04:002010-06-23T15:37:21.939-04:00Ra feshta d’ur papà<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TB4kvu4k5WI/AAAAAAAAAG8/7IFQ2tRzurU/s1600/Frank%26Dad.Jul75.2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 178px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TB4kvu4k5WI/AAAAAAAAAG8/7IFQ2tRzurU/s200/Frank%26Dad.Jul75.2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484861798641624418" /></a><br />One of my earliest memories is walking out of a restaurant with my father - I was perhaps three or four years old at the time - and Dad hoisting me into his arms to show me a map of Italy that hung on the wall. I remember Dad’s finger tracing up the coastline on the map, “<em>Giusvalla is …. here. This is where we came from</em>” was his simple explanation.<br /><br />It was always the same with Dad, there was always some family story, a memory from his own childhood …. and he often spoke of his grandparents’ hometown …. Giusvalla. Perhaps without him even realizing it, his own love for the place inspired the same in his son.<br /><br />I proudly carry my Giusvalla surname, not just because of a personal affinity for the town and our history there, but moreover out of deep admiration for those who carried it before me. It was Dad who taught me to be proud of these things. More than anything I am just proud to be his son.<br /><br /><em>Happy Father’s Day, Dad …. at vüj tanc bèn … turnumma a Gişvàla prash!</em><br /><br />In the picture: <em>ur papà e pcit Franceschèn, July 4, 1975.</em>Frank J. Rosaiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14129043387333271452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1052927436833926380.post-12308445669820880812010-06-17T16:36:00.004-04:002010-06-23T15:40:35.881-04:00Giusvalla godparents …. through the generations<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TBqHu8x88kI/AAAAAAAAAG0/7H6qAT6ruKE/s1600/ChristeningDay.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 158px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jLVafXxMz08/TBqHu8x88kI/AAAAAAAAAG0/7H6qAT6ruKE/s200/ChristeningDay.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483844736936374850" /></a><br />Like many others from an Italian-American household, I grew up in a family where godparents were a very important part of our lives, we were all proud of our godparents and family conversations often included godparent acknowledgements such as “<em>Aunt So-and-So was such a special lady. She was my godmother you know …</em>.” My godparents were my Uncle Frank and my Aunt Marina (both siblings of my father). Aunt Marina has always referred to me as her “Nephew-Godson,” growing up I had a special bond with her because she is my godmother.<br /><br />The selection of the godparents was always a serious and deliberate matter, whom do we deem most worthy to bequeath the spiritual well-being of our children? The christening day was a time of great celebration and tradition. In my family, it has become a great honor to pass down the christening gown that has now been worn by grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles and cousins. On the day of my son's christening, his godfather (my cousin Enzo) resurrected the old Giusvalla tradition of the father's and godfather's shave (with the obligatory straight razor). It was Enzo's grandfather Bastianèn who was responsible for performing this rite on all the new fathers and godfathers in Giusvalla. We were proud to carry this tradition into the next generation.<br /><br />Our godparents can perhaps be considered our “spiritual” ancestors, certainly they played an important role in our families throughout the generations. In my genealogical research, whenever possible I always try to document the names of the godparents. This is accomplished by consulting ecclesiastical records, where godparents’ names are listed (on the baptismal acts, for example). Following is my “Godparent Tree,” showing the godparents for several generations of my direct paternal family line.<br /><br /><em><strong>My Son</strong></em><br />Godfather: Cousin Enzo<br />Godmother: Aunt Angela<br /><em><strong>Me (Frank)</strong></em><br />Godfather: Frank Rosaio<br />Godmother: Marina Rosaio<br /><em><strong>My father (Michael)</strong></em><br />Godfather: Ernest Camoirano<br />Godmother: Gloria (Faenza) Malatesta<br /><em><strong>My grandfather (Frank)</strong></em><br />Godfather: Giuseppe Camoirano<br />Godmother: Elsie Perrone<br /><em><strong>My great-grandfather (Francesco)</strong></em><br />Godfather: Gaspare Perrone<br />Godmother: Maria Teresa Manzino<br /><em><strong>My great-great grandfather (Giacomo Antonio)</strong></em><br />Godfather: Giacomo Beltrame<br />Godmother: Gioanna (Verdino) Baccino<br /><em><strong>My gr-gr-gr grandfather (Gioanni Antonio)</strong></em><br />Godfather: Giovanni Antonio Bonifacino<br />Godmother: Angela (wife of Giovanni Antonio Bonifacino)<br /><br />In the picture: <em>Christening Day, May 16, 1974, with godparents Uncle Frank & Aunt Marina</em>Frank J. Rosaiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14129043387333271452noreply@blogger.com0