A New Beginning - Part I
Is it possible that is simple inconsequential decision can change your life in a monumental way? Sure, we all know big decisions on whether to go to college, getting married, and having children create monumental changes in our lives. But who would have thought deciding to go on a vacation could do the same?
Well, that’s what happened to me almost 10 years ago. It was the end of 2011 and the prior four years were the worst years of my life. As I started to come out from underneath the fog of a life turned upside down, I made the decision to take a trip to the birthplace of my grandfather, Francesco Gaglio, in Montelepre, Sicily.
Within just a few years as The Great Recession unfolded, I found myself taking hits from all fronts of my life. In 2009, I suffered from a loss, like so many others in the country, on the very house my family called our home with the housing crash. At work I witnessed the economic devastation take hold over many loan clients as their businesses collapsed; some walking away from their businesses and homes, leaving behind all their personal belongings. Each day as more and more clients defaulted on their loans, it was clear the writing was on the wall that our little bank, right in the epicenter of the mortgage collapse, Cape Coral, Florida, wouldn't survive. As a result, I found myself unemployed for the first time in my adult life. I was a middle-aged refugee from the banking industry downturn, in the worst state, in the worst county and worst city in the state of Florida.
As if this wasn't enough, things at home were even worse. We experienced a great emotional and financial burden helping our oldest teenage child cope with a crisis and then the inevitable divorce.
I was fortunate though, finding a position in Sarasota, Florida, with the bank I worked for 16 years in Michigan. Although the income was less than before the recession, I was tremendously grateful and more fortunate than most of my unemployed banking industry friends. The position level also provided a generous vacation benefit, which I decided to use for my first trip to Italy in 2012.
I was coming on my 50th birthday and my son was graduating from high school, so a big trip was in order. Something was calling me to visit the hometown of my grandfather. It just seemed automatic. It was as if there was something there in Montelepre that could heal me from the wounds of the past. I asked my son, who had the same fondness for travel as myself, “Would you like to go to Italy with me and visit the little town where my grandfather was born?” He quickly answered, “Yes!”
It was my first overseas trip, and I was excited to enjoy it with my son. Half of my life had passed already and I’d never ventured outside the northwestern hemisphere. Little did I know at the planning stage just how profoundly this trip would change my life.
We started our adventure in Italy in Rome visiting the amazing sites like, the Colosseum, the Forum, The Vatican and a day trip to Pompeii. One of the most enjoyable moments was a bicycle tour throughout the city and into the heights. (checkout Wheely Rome Bike Rental). In the evenings we ate like kings, or should I say emperors, enjoying some of the amazing Roman restaurants the city has to offer.
After a few days in Rome, we were exhausted, deplaning in Palermo, as we started our second leg of our trip. We picked up the car at the airport and I began to drive into one of the craziest cities you could drive through in Europe. Everywhere I looked there were cars moving quickly, never stopping and what seemed like an endless number of scooters buzzing past our car. Vespa means wasp in the Italian language, a very appropriate name for these Italian scooters. At one point during this initial ride, my son turned to me and said, “Dad! Why are you driving so crazy?” I answered quickly, because after 20 minutes of driving I’d figured it out. “You either get hit or you hit someone else, and I'm not going to get hit!”
The economy was rough on Sicily as well, evident as we drove into the city. Clearly it had taken an economic beating with many vacant buildings and graffiti everywhere. Like so many times over its 3,000-year existence, Palermo has taken on many invaders, pillagers and even Allie bombs during World War II. Some of those bomb scars can still be seen today. A world economic recession was nothing for this ancient city to handle and I got the feeling this city will go on for another 3,000 years. We found our little hostel accommodations and settled in, quickly befriending a British couple who were staying in an apartment near us. It had been my goal to cook a dinner with ingredients gathered from my grandfather‘s hometown, so I invited them to join us later in the week.
After our hectic tour of Rome and travel, we decided to spend a relaxing day at the beach at a beautiful place called Mondello. Well, we soon found out that relaxing at the beach in Sicily was nothing like going to the beach in Florida. First, we couldn’t find parking for the rental car. When we finally found a spot a “parking” man demanded a euro, a kind of parking racket that exists in the South. We found a spot on the beach, just enough room to lay down our towels; since it was a Saturday, the beach had already filled up with other people looking to get a break from the heat. Once we settled in, we were barraged with an endless number of unofficial vendors hawking everything from cold beer and coca cola, sunglasses and even a guy carrying a pole with sundresses. The constant sound of “Birra, Coca Cola” interrupted our relaxation as the sweat began to pour down our faces. Then, a skirmish broke out between two coconut chunk vendors. Apparently one of the men was encroaching on the other and all hell broke out. The two men were yelling at each other and coming close to blows when other men held them back from each other. I’m sure much of the spectacle was for show, but it added to the disorder of the experience.
Now, with all that going on the temperature was climbing to about 105 degrees and the water was not much cooler. We took turns going into the water since what little we brought to the beach couldn’t be left unattended. We ate our packed lunch and as the sun reached its highest point of the day, Tony turned to me and said, “Dad, I’m melting.” We had been living in Florida for about seven years and pretty accustomed to heat. But this was well above the 92-degree average of a typical Florida summer day, and although the humidity wasn’t as bad as Florida, it was enough to make your head swell.
We packed up and ventured up the mountain to see if we could find some of our family members.
Although visiting the beach that day was a colorful experience, I wouldn’t say it was a relaxing one. Mondello is a beautiful beach town and in years that followed, I learned the best way to experience a day at the beach there was to stay at a hotel with a private beach. There are a few to choose from in Mondello. Since my first trip, I have stayed at the Grand Hotel, a remodeled hotel with its own private beach. There are several restaurants as well, so it is a lovely place to enjoy the sunset and dinner. I recommend avoiding visiting Sicily in the summer time if it is possible; we were limited due to Tony’s school schedule. The fall is a much better time of year. It’s much cooler when navigating through the beautiful hilly towns, visiting historical sites, yet still warm enough to take a swim and enjoy the water.
With our beach day cut short, Tony and I found ourselves with an extra half a day to do something, so going up the mountain seemed like a good idea. This was the early days of Facebook, at which point I hadn’t begun to use, so finding my cousins was more of an old school process. We knew they were there; my parents had visited in 1974. However, I was unsuccessful in contacting them before we left the U.S. My father had prepared a family tree of his Aunt Vita Gaglio, using the back of a Valuepak coupon as scrap paper. We drove our little Fiat 500 up the curvy roads until we reached the town of Montelepre, which interprets as “hare mountain.” I’ve never actually scene a hare on the mountain, but I’m guessing they hang out at night when it’s cooler and harder to be seen.
We rolled into the city, thankful we had such a small car, because each street seemed to narrow as we climbed to the center of town. As we began to get close to the city center, I saw a street sign “via S. Gaglio” and decided this was as good a place to start looking.
I parked the car and approached an elderly lady sitting on her front entry landing. It was barely a porch, but the shade from the buildings of homes and a breeze cutting through the narrow streets must have provided her a relief from the heat. I showed her my driver’s license displaying my name which matched the street name she lived on, and my dad’s makeshift family tree. She looked at me and called out for her daughter who quickly appeared, grabbed her cell phone and said, “Cugina inglese.” She had called a cousin of hers who could speak English. I remember how blessed hot it was standing in the street. A young lady with a ponytail walked up and said, “Hi, I’m Joanna La Perna from Windsor, Canada. They call me Americana because I speak English, but I’m really Canadian.” I said, “I’m from Detroit! We grew up just 40 miles apart. How did you end up here?” She explained that after a year of college experience she didn’t want to return to college, so she decided to go on a vacation to spend time with family in Sicily. She met a man who would become her husband and decided not to return to Canada. That was 19 years ago and she now has two daughters and a life in Sicily.
I provided Joanna my family tree and explained I was trying to find any of my father’s relatives that still lived in Montelepre. However, I didn’t want to impose on her. Joanna said, “I don’t get to speak English much around here, so I’m happy to help you.” She examined the paper and thought she might have known one of the cousins who she thought worked at her daughter’s school. We began visiting various businesses in town. First, Joanna took us to a bakery to ask the owners if they knew anyone on the list. Then we hit a pizzeria called Pizze e Sfizi. The owner, Antonio Di Lorenzo, said, “Gianrenzo Palermo was here at 12:00 for lunch.” We had a nice talk with Antonio; he actually lived in Grand Rapids, MI for about 15 years, but brought back his family to settle in Montelepre.
After a few more stops Joanna had a good idea of where the cousin, Giovanna, who she thought worked at her daughter’s school, lived. We knocked on the door and an elderly tiny lady answered. The woman said that Giovanna was at the beach and would return later that evening. We were at a momentary standstill, so Joanna suggested we wait at her home. First, we stopped at a house her husband, Filippo Licari, was working at. He was remodeling his cousin’s home in town. It was very interesting viewing reconstruction inside of a 300-year-old home, one thing is for sure, you make a lot of rubble putting in new water and electrical lines.
Joanna served cold Italian beer while we waited at her home. I peppered Joanna with questions about living in Sicily. We discussed food and how Sicilians prepare red sauce. She described the process from the beginning. “First, it’s a real hassle,” she explained. “In the late summer, all the women put gloves on and swirl them through crushed tomatoes on a big table outside. Once the tomatoes are reduced, they are placed in bottles for canning to be use at a later date.”
That sounded like a way to make sun-dried tomato paste and at the time, I could only imagine the taste of the natural sugars in that sauce brought out by the Sicilian sun.
Each family produces olive oil from the family olive trees. Joanna handed me a liter Coke bottle containing the golden green oil as a gift. I was filled with excitement as we talked while her two daughters worked on their homework in the background in their lovely remodeled home. Tony and I enjoyed our ice-cold beer as we waited for her husband to return.
Soon, her husband came home, took a shower and suggested we go to the home he thought Gianrenzo lived. We packed into his car and with a short ride we pulled into a parking spot in front of the home. There was a shirtless man working in the front yard and it was like in the movies. We were received by the family members and seated in the living room of the house where we waited for Gianrenzo to return home. Just as we were treated to a delicious helping of gelato, Gianrenzo appeared. Joanna explained to him what was going on and handed Gianrenzo the family tree of his Aunt Vita. I asked Joanna to explain to Gianrenzo that I didn’t want to impose on him, but I was hoping to find my family members.
“Oh, that is not a problem at all,” Joanna said. “He is very interested in meeting you and he remembers when your parents visited them when he was a teenager.” Gianrenzo’s eyes scanned the primitive document that listed the names of his aunts and uncles, and his cousins. He soon picked up a pencil and began to make corrections. For the most part, however, my dad did a pretty good job. He had a few of the in-law names wrong and Gianrenzo marked off those who had passed. At that point my father was 85 years old, so the likelihood of meeting any of his first cousins was slim. Out of the large group of aunts and uncles, just two remained alive.
It was mostly my dad’s second cousins who were living. My parents had stayed with Gianrenzo’s family in Palermo that summer in 1974. What are the chances of that? Not knowing any of these cousins, meeting Joanna and her husband, have them lead me to one of the cousins whose parents hosted my parents on their one and only trip to Sicily? To me, it didn’t matter that they were second cousins of my father. I felt an immediate connection to these folks.
Soon there was a buzz throughout Gianrenzo’s family. As soon as his sister, Giovanna, learned about the two Americans that showed up at her doorstep while she was at the beach, were at Gianrenzo’s home, she asked him to bring us to her.
Giovanna was the women Joanna had mentioned who worked at the school. Joanna explained that Giovanna had some kind of bone defect from birth, that prevented her bones to form properly. In spite of her physical disability, she was the life of Montelepre. Tony and I soon experienced that joy when she greeted us at her door with her incredible smile. She was ecstatic to meet us and invited us in. As we sat around the kitchen table, we sipped our refreshments and Giovanna shared with us some of the many photo albums on her bookshelves of our family. She showed me a photograph of my grandfather. As she explained things about our family, she became emotionally over joyed and tears appeared in her eyes.
By this time the evening was waning and Giovanna invited us to stay for pizza with her aunt “Zia Vita,” who was the little old lady we met earlier in the day. By then Tony and I were physically and emotionally exhausted and had to decline the invitation. We asked if we could return the next day for Sunday dinner.
Our day had begun with a failed attempt of some relaxation at the beach, yet turned out to be one of the most emotional days in my life. In years to follow, I found out some of my best days in Italy were the times I wandered about and just let the day unfold. Giovanna was happy with our proposal to return for Sunday dinner and we made arrangements for the next day. Both Giovanna and “Zia” escorted us to the street to show us the home of my grandfather’s family, directly across the street from her home. This tiny first floor dwelling that had more recently turned into a garage with a brown door, once was the home of seven of my grandfather’s family members.
Tony and I climbed into our little Fiat to return to Palermo. He turned to me and said, “Dad, I don’t have the words to describe just how I’m feeling after what we experienced today.” He had taken those words right out of my thoughts. I didn’t exactly know at that moment, that the decision to take a vacation would transform my life was just like a decision to vacation in Montelepre did for my new friend Joanna’s life, when she met her husband there 19 years ago.
In Part II of my story, A New Beginning, please join our family for Sunday dinner on the mountain. See how one experience can set a life on a new path. I will forever be grateful to Joanna for helping me. I’ll never forget the love that was in Giovanna’s smile that day, which pulled me into the family that remained in Sicily over 100 years ago, when my grandfather left for America.
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