Wings and Roots and all those other things …

I have finally come to terms with the fact that daughter has indeed moved out and there’s a high probability that her room is not going to be ‘her’ room anymore – she’s been gone for 3 years.

Well, I first came to that reality last June when my fiancé moved in and set up this room as his private haven. And, I guess after being in NYC for three years and now living together with her boyfriend, it’s a fact that my daughter identifies herself as a New Yorker (but still a Red Sox fan in ‘enemy’ territory).

So, last weekend I packed the remnants of her prior life in boxes – photos, yearbooks, prom gowns, journals. Among the items was a family history done by one of my sisters almost ten years ago, as a written history to be passed to the younger generation in the family. In thumbing through it, I was reminded at the enormity of the task and amazed at the precise care given to writing about historical facts and ancestors.

As mentioned before, my ancestors came from Avellino. To be exact, my dad’s parents were from Parolise and Candida; my mom’s from Rocco San Felicia. Coming from Italy to New York (and eventually to Boston) in 1898 and 1900 respectively.

One of our generations will get to visit these areas. I’ve been close ….

Hey, Paisano!

I don't know why I am always amazed when I run into someone that I later determine is related to me. The probability is, upon reflecton, quite high.

There were 10 siblings on my mother's side and each had at least 3 children (30). Seven boys (God bless my grandmother) on the other side (one bachelor and one childless) and each had at least 2 children (~10). In 1985, we had a family reunion for just one side of the family and 164 people were present. So, when I run into someone who has a family surname, I ask them about their family. After the preliminary questions of where did you grow up and parents' names, there's a connection made. This happened today in a phone conversation with someone. After speaking to him, I asked his name for my file reference - and sure enough - we are related!

Even when I was living in Hawaii in the 70s, I was contacted by a cousin who resided there (and I had only met him once - much older than I). I hardly knew him, but he was family and it felt good to be with family so far away from home.

When I was younger my father and mother would sometimes describe someone in conversation as "you know, he's a paisan." Seriously, I think everyone with a bit of Italian blood is related. After all, if you read about the emporers, kings, masters of arts, and even the popes, they fathered many families......hmm, makes you wonder?