Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Something about our recent stay was definitely different for us in Tuscany

We left Montecarlo last week for another summer of work in Gig Harbor. Our sixth season in Tuscany had a distinctly different flavor than the first five—as it should have, since now we are homeowners instead of guests at an agriturismo. Was it all we had hoped it would be? Absolutely so!

Being able to walk out the door and onto the main street of Montecarlo made an immediate difference. We chatted occasionally with shop owners, checked books out of the library, bought staples at the two small general stores or just strolled around town greeting people we passed. In previous years, we rarely saw anyone when we took our evening walks along the rural roads in the Marcucci neighborhood.

We love our new location in other ways, too. We’re on the top floor, so we have a great western view of the plain of Lucca and sunsets. When it’s clear, we can see the walls and towers of Lucca, and from our terrazzo, we can also see part of the Alpi Apuane mountains. The view side is very quiet and private. I could sunbathe on the terrazzo and nobody would see me. The view from the other side of the house is full of vitality: We can watch from above as tourists and residents stroll down the main street of town, and we can lean out and see all of via Roma, from the Fortezza to Porta Nuova.

A quilt Lucy made for Micah.
We also have about four times more space, which allows us to spread out and do our projects—Lucy made three quilts, and I worked on my genealogy and writing. At least equally important, the space allows us to host visitors, which we did on half a dozen occasions.

But it’s more than just a matter of space and location. It’s our house, and knowing that fact makes an important psychological difference. We are more than visitors now. We are committed, we are part of something, we are Montecarlesi. And we will be back.

Thursday, May 5, 2016

What started as Seghieri Day extends into a week of family activities

Seghieri Day soon extended into Seghieri Week as the festas continued. I met with Jean-Paul and Marcel on Monday to share some genealogy information, and on Tuesday we enjoyed a scrumptious feast at the Poggio restaurant with Seghieri families from Italy and France, and, of course, we two Americans.
Elena offers a brindisi to the Seghieri families of the world while we dine at the Poggio.

Marcel offered a brindisi (toast) to me Tuesday evening, noting that my research had brought together Seghieri families from three countries, showing everyone how they were connected. It was only then that I fully realized how well my humble six-year-old dream to reconnect with my grandmother’s Seghieri roots had come to such grand results. I had truly found a group of relatives that shared my feelings about the importance of family history, connections and pride.
Marcel, Jean-Paul, Sergio, Elena at the state archives.

Then on Wednesday, Jean-Paul, Marcel, Hervé and I met with Montecarlo historian Sergio Nelli at his work in the Archivio di Stato di Lucca. He gave us a thorough tour of the facilities, and we looked at room after room of weathered books and parchments. The documents are divided into sections: diplomatic, concerning the Republic of Lucca, Napoleonic and notarial. The archives are the results of a 1804 decree that all of the papers from the governments of the suppressed Republic of Lucca be brought together at a single institution.
It was awesome to see so many old books and scrolls in one
place, and to be able to open them and look inside.

The documentary material in the diplomatic section includes 19,855 parchments ranging from the 8th to the 19th centuries. They are arranged in chronological order and by provenance: from monasteries, from families of the nobility and from the secret archives of the city-state. The documentary material on the Republic of Lucca, conserved organically from the beginning of the 14th century, includes statutes, the proceedings of the elders before the liberation, the proceedings of the elders after the liberation, public amendments of the papers of the general curia and the papers of the Guinigi government.
We must have looked inside at least a dozen rooms like this, filled from floor to ceiling with old documents.

From the archives of the Napoleonic government of Elisa Baciocchi Bonaparte and of the Bourbonic duchy come the civil list and property list of the princes, the senate, the council of state and council of ministers; ministries; secretaries of the governments; prefecture of Lucca; registry office; public health and hygiene; education, arts, industry, commerce and food office; water, roads and buildings; militia; police; the mint and public treasury; state property; register, mortgages and public debt; tax collectors. The notarial archives include the records of the nobility and private individuals, as well as special collections including documentation on congregations in the city and the territory, brotherhoods and hospitals.

The archive is impressive in its volume and depth, which speaks to the respect that Italians have for their history. However, it is also a bit overwhelming, because the texts are in Latin or old Italian script, both of which the average person can’t read. It’s great that all these documents are being preserved, but it would take a lifetime just to read through the books contained in a single room. And given that most of the documents are technical accounts of legal and political acts, one might die an early death from boredom. However, I’m thankful that there are people like Doctor Nelli, who have a passion for reading and noting the details of our shared past.

For my part, I came with the primary hope of discovering more about the family tree of the Seghieri family, but most of our time was spent on the tour. However, Doctor Nelli agreed to drop by the agriturismo where the French Seghieri families are staying to share more Seghieri genealogy, and he was true to his word.

Just a few of the fine cheeses we enjoyed.
That evening was our last in Montecarlo for this season, as we started on the return to the United States the next morning. But we left in high spirits, as the French Seghieris treated us and the Italian families to a dinner featuring champagne, wine, bread, meats, gelato, biscotti and a large assortment of fine French cheeses from various regions of the country. As each cheese was served, Jean-Paul explained where it was from and a little about its production and flavor. We started with the sweeter cheeses and moved to ones which were strong in both aroma and flavor.

France boasts from 350 to 450 distinct types of cheese, grouped into eight categories. There can be many varieties within each type of cheese, leading some to claim closer to 1,000 different types of French cheese. In 1962, French President Charles de Gaulle was famously quoted as saying “Comment voulez-vous gouverner un pays qui a deux cent quarante-six variétés de fromage?” (“How can you govern a country which has two hundred and forty-six varieties of cheese?”) We didn’t have that many, but definitely enough to appreciate the variety and quality of the country’s choices.
A toast to Dr. Sergio Nelli, who was indispensable in bringing us together.

Doctor Nelli showed up with his Montecarlo genealogy books, and I took photographs of about 20 pages that provided partial or complete Seghieri family trees. This will give me days of work adding these names into the computer database that makes up our already huge family tree. Before I left, I offered a brindisi to Doctor Nelli for all the help he has provided this year and in previous meetings. I ended the toast by explaining that I wanted to find more members of the family, because the more Seghieris I find, the more festas we can have—an explanation that met with widespread expressions of approval.

Sunday, May 1, 2016

Parties and music with lively Seghieri families from three countries

The family shield, taken outside the house
in Montecarlo with the shield over the door.
It’s always interesting to find old family records—names, photos, places of birth and occupations of deceased ancestors—but it’s 10 times more fun to meet living relatives, especially when they are as lively, gracious and cheerful as our distant Italian and French Seghieri cousins.

This weekend has been a celebration of the return of two Seghieri families who immigrated to France from Italy in the 1800s (see Long lost French Seghieri families . . .). Two of the families from the Marcucci neighborhood welcomed the seven French visitors with a pizza dinner at La Terrazza pizzeria in Montecarlo Saturday night. Linda, Cori and I also attended, while Lucy remained at home to prepare food for the next day.
Pizza dinner at La Terrazza.

Since Linda and Cori had to return home early Sunday morning, Elena presented Linda with a copy of the Seghieri family shield painted on concrete. Elena had the shields hand-made by a craftsman from Lucca especially for the French guests, but Linda and I each ordered one as well. The rest of us received ours later.
Our song leaders.

We met again in the yard of Davide, Elena and Flavia at 11 a.m. Sunday for a potluck lunch that included many of the other Marcucci families: Sergio and Silvana, Celestino and Antonella and their sons Matteo and Diego, Ivo, Sandra, Nicola and Laura, Rita and her mother Nicoletta (her son Dario and his fidanzata Federica came to the pizza dinner but not the potluck). There was even a brief appearance from Emanuele, Dante’s grandson, whom we met for the first time.
And the chorus . . .

We were also blessed with the presence of Andrea Mandroni, who was well qualified to join the party. Like me, he had a grandmother who was a Seghieri. He is the top genealogy researcher in the area, and he helped Marcel Seghieri trace his ancestry back a couple of generations further than Marcel was able to do on his own.

Our accompanist
The fact that we represented three different countries and languages didn’t slow us down too much, although the conversations made me think of the Tower of Babel. Only a couple of people spoke any English. I could understand the Italian most of the time and the French once in a while. However, some of the French cousins knew some Italian, so we conversed in Italian as best we could. However, they might start a sentence in Italian, but lacking the vocabulary to continue, they would finish it in French, leaving me with only half of the meaning. Or it’s possible that they said the whole sentence in Italian, but with a French accent so thick that I couldn’t tell if they were speaking Italian or French.

Two events left me quite emotional. The first was when Marcel directed the entire party in the singing first of Giuseppe Verdi’s “Va, Pensiero,” and then in the Italian national anthem, “Inno di Mameli.” I was touched to see how proud the French families were of their Italian heritage. Flavia accompanied on clarinet for the anthem, Elena and Marcel did a great job of getting everyone involved in the singing, and after some initial feelings of embarrassment, everyone smiled and laughed through the rehearsals and then the final production. A few people recorded the performance on their phones, so eventually I may get a copy to share.

Then the French group sang the French national anthem. At that point, I hoped that everyone would forget that Lucy and I were there, but no, we had to sing “The Star Spangled Banner.”

Our food expert, Ivo
The other memorable event came when Marcel pulled out some photos of his family. One of the photos (I think it was of one of Marcel’s uncles) greatly resembled some members of Sergio’s family, both his brother Pietro and his grandfather, also named Pietro. This provoked one of those special Italian moments where everyone is talking at the same time, saying things like: “They look almost the same, it could be they are the same person, it can’t be the same person, even if it’s not the same person the resemblance is surprising, etc.” All of this in Italian and French at the same time, and it went on for a good 20 minutes.

After the potluck, the party continued when we went up the hill to see the concert of the
Società Filarmonica Giacomo Puccini at the teatro of Montecarlo. Although the community is small, the band is incredible, and we enjoyed it immensely. We filled an entire row of seats and then some, applauding enthusiastically, especially for our favorite musician, clarinetist Flavia Seghieri. Lucy and I walked a few blocks home, contentissimi to be part of such a grand family and community.
The whole gang! Actually, more people came later and didn't make it into the group photo.

Saturday, April 30, 2016

Want to see a verified da Vinci sculture? No problem! No lines!

Historical documents attest that Leonardo da Vinci created many sculptures, but few works existing today can be verified to be the results of his skilled hands. However, in Pescia, a city of 20,000 inhabitants (and only 10 minutes from Montecarlo and Montecatini), rests a verified sculpture of da Vinci, one that can be seen almost any day of the week, at no cost and with no lines. The statue, however, is by Pierino da Vinci, not his uncle Leonardo.
The da Vinci sculpture is on the left side. The reclining Baldassarre Turini in the center was probably done by a pupil of Michaelangelo, Raffaello di Bartolomeo Sinibaldi of Montelupo. A twin statue on the right side was probably completed by Silvio Cosini after Pierino's untimely death.

I came across this interesting information while researching another nearby statue that key art historians believe to created by Leonardo. They have to base their beliefs on stylistic comparisons with Leonardo’s known works, because no documents have been found to prove his authorship. But that’s not the case with the work by Pierino da Vinci.

The sculpture is part of the mausoleum of Baldassarre Turini. It is located in the cattedrale di Maria Santissima Assunta in Pescia’s Piazza Duomo.

Ample documentary evidence exists to
attribute this sculpture to Pierino da
Vinci, the nephew of Leonardo da Vinci.
Very few people are aware of this,” said Emanuele Pellegrini, director of the Journal of Visual Arts ( and associate professor of art history at the IMT Institute for Advanced Studies in Lucca. “But it is proven to be work of Pierino da Vinci. We have the payment documents to show this, but if you search on the Internet, you’ll see that you will find very little about this sculpture.”

Pierino, the grandson of Leonardo’s father, ser Piero da Vinci, was well on the path to fame as an artist, but he died of malaria in 1553 at age 23. Pierino, born Pier Francesco di Bartolomeo, received a payment for all of the sculptures on the tomb, but he died after he completed the first one, which is on the left side. A statue similar to Pierino’s but on the right side of the mausoleum may have been started by Pierino, but it was probably finished by one of his friends, Silvio Cosini, Professor Pellegrini said. Raffaello di Baccio Sinibaldi da Montelupo probably did the reclining figure of Turini in the center.

While he finds it unfortunate that the da Vinci sculpture has received little attention, Professor Pellegrini doesn’t find it particularly surprising. “It’s quite common in Italian provinces to find many masterpieces which are relatively unknown,” he explained.

He pointed out that a crucifix on display in a chapel in Padova went largely unnoticed for 500 years before someone realized that the author was Donatello.

“Sometimes you have masterpieces right before your very eyes, but you don’t see them because you don’t pay attention, or someone finds some documents that show who the artist was,” he said.

The duomo which holds Pierino’s sculpture has its origins in the fifth or sixth century and has been rebuilt several times. It was consecrated in 1062 by Pope Alexander II, who, according to tradition, was the parish priest of Pescia before becoming bishop of Lucca. The church was entirely rebuilt after a fire in the city in 1281.
This well done copy of Raphael Sanzio's famous work hangs
in the duomo of Pescia, near Turini's tomb.

At one time, the church also held a 1507 masterpiece by the illustrious Raphael Sanzio di Urbino. However, the Madonna of the Baldachin was sold to Turini, who removed it to his private chapel. In 1697, a high quality copy was painted by Pier Dandini, and it was placed near Turinis tomb in the Pescia duomo.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Long-lost French Seghieri families coming to Montecarlo for a reunion

It is not only Italian Americans who seek to reconnect to their roots by returning to Italy. In a few days, some distant cousins from France will also be in Montecarlo, looking to visit their ancestral home. They are connected to me on the Seghieri side, and we have only met electronically—through e-mail, Facebook and my blog.

They read about my Seghieri research on my blog, and in the past year, they also contacted Elena Benvenuti to enlist her help in learning how they are connected to the Seghieri families of Montecarlo. Elena is fluent in French, English, German and, of course, Italian. There are at least two distinct branches of the Seghieri family who live in Marseille, and both branches will be represented.

Jean-Paul (far right) and other family members.
I am Facebook friends with Jean-Paul Seghieri and Marcel Seghieri, and I have also corresponded with a second cousin once removed of Jean-Paul, Claude Guillan Romaine, whose mother was Huguette Seghieri. Jean-Paul and Claude trace their Tuscan roots back to Carlo Olinto Seghieri, born in Montecarlo in 1840, and Maria Pasqua Ulivieri, 1847, Montecarlo. Carlo and Maria moved to Marseille prior to 1868 and had 12 children there. Carlo Olinto was the ninth cousin of my great grandfather, so Jean-Paul and I are 12th cousins.

Marcel’s ties to the family are much more distant—so distant, if fact, that we may never discover them. His ancestors lived in Livorno and spelled their surname Sighieri instead of Seghieri. Around the time Marcel’s grandfather moved to Marseille in the early 1900s, the family changed the spelling to Seghieri. I enlisted one of the foremost genealogists in the area, Andrea Mandroni, to see if he could find a Montecarlo connection for Marcel’s family. The earliest ancestor he has found to date is Ranieri Sighieri, born in Livorno about 1763. Before that time, we don’t know how the family spelled the name or from where they came.
This collage was sent by Marcel Seghieri. I haven't met any of these people yet, so I can't name them!

From what I have learned, the Sighieri spelling was more common around the Pisa and Livorno areas, while in Montecarlo and Altopascio, Seghieri was used. Another variation sometimes found in Altopascio is Sevieri. I don’t know when the various different spellings originated, but it could have been prior to the 1300s. If so, it is doubtful that any records exist to tie these long-standing lines together. Prior to the 1300s, there are some documents that list people of importance in Pisa who had the Latinized name Seghierius. Montecarlo historian Sergio Nello states that the Seghieri name has Germanic origins from the occupation of the Longobardi between 568 and 774.

Elena has met some of our French cousins and says they are a lively group, enthusiastic about their Italian heritage and history. They’ll arrive Saturday afternoon, and we’ll go with them to dinner at La Terrazza pizzeria in Montecarlo, along with Davide Seghieri, Elena and their daughter Flavia. My sister Linda and her daughter Corina will still be here, so they’ll get to meet the cousins as well. That evening, Flavia plays in a concert in Montecarlo, which many of us will also attend.

Sunday afternoon will be the biggest event in this informal reunion, when we share a potluck style lunch at Davide and Elena’s house. Beside the contingent from France, several other Seghieri families from Montecarlo will attend. It should be interesting trying to communicate, since I don’t speak any French, and it’s already a challenge for me to get across everything I want to say when I have to speak Italian. The French families don’t speak much Italian or English. I think Davide and Flavia know French, but Elena will probably be exhausted before the reunion is over, since she’s the only one who can speak all the languages easily.

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Going to community market is a weekly experience not to be missed

Lucy buys a pillow for the couch
Shopping at the open air village markets in Italy is one of our favorite experiences. Each community has a market once a week. Our visits combine people-watching, fresh air, historical town centers and fresh food—the best parts of living here. In previous years, we went to the little Wednesday market in San Salvatore, but our favorite fruit and grocery seller, Grazia, no longer sells at that market. We can catch her in Borgo a Buggiano on Tuesday or Porcari on Wednesday, but this year, we’ve usually gone on Friday to the market in Ponte Buggianese.
Our favorite produce venditori at Ponte Buggianese.

Cheeses of many types and cured meats, all made in Italy.
Although the Esselunga supermarket here is excellent (it recently received recognition from The Boston Consulting Group as one of the top small chains in the world, behind only Trader Joe’s and Wegmans), we like to get our produce from the small market vendors when possible. We also like knowing that markets such as these have existed for millennia; we are shopping in a long-standing and traditional Italian way. The produce is extremely fresh, the prices are great and the sellers recognize and greet you upon your return. Food just harvested tastes ten times more delicious than its out-of-season counterparts, but be warned: It is best consumed within a few days of purchase, because it is already ripe when sold.
Colorful fabrics, drapes, blankets and tablecloths are beautifully displayed.

I’ve learned not to buy from the first vendor in the row. These are prime positions, but sometimes the prices are a little higher than the ones in the middle. We also note which vendors have more customers, because the locals know who has the best produce. At the Ponte Buggianese market, we had a half dozen vendors to chose from, but we ultimately picked a stall run by a friendly middle-aged couple because the man likes to sing about his produce when there is a lull in sales. Not exactly songs, but he will call out the names of his fruit and veggies in a lilting, musical voice, adding the price: “Belle, belle mele, solo un euro al chilo.”

We often buy roasted chicken, turkey or ham , taken straight
off the spit, from this booth from this man.
In general, the venditori prefer that shoppers don’t handle the produce. This is an issue of good hygiene. Instead, we tell them what items we want, and they place them in a bag and weigh them for us. When ordering something easy to count, like apples or oranges, it’s easy to explain how much one wants. Otherwise, when ordering something like string beans, we can just say, “Per due,” for two people. Sometimes we are handed a bag, which is an invitation to go ahead and pick out our own fruit and vegetables. We usually get Italian parsley (prezzemolo) and celery (sedano) thrown in as a freebie, per sapore (flavor).
We don't buy much seafood, but it's always interesting to see it displayed.

We had wondered if bargaining is expected in the marketplace, but we’ve learned that it is not done when shopping for food. Also, don’t expect to use a credit card at a market; they are almost always cash only.

We sometimes also buy clothing, fabric, tablecloths, cheese, kitchenware, scarves and hot food such as roasted chicken or fried vegetables. Larger markets have even more items, and then there are specialty markets held less frequently for used merchandise, antiques and hand-made items. Beyond that, there are sagras and festas, which feature foods with special names that have historical significance for the region. Believe me, one doesn’t have to visit all the great historical or artistic sites in Italy to enjoy la dolce vita. It can be done without leaving the neighborhood!

Monday, April 25, 2016

A delicious Spadoni rinfresco

Last month we had a little gathering to show my Seghieri relatives our new house. Today we had a second open house, timed to coincide with a visit from Linda and Cori, for a few of our Italian Spadoni relatives. Lucy made a bunch of sweets and we enjoyed a couple of hours of conversation with Enrico and Enza, Loriano and Gabriella, and Claudio.

Claudio, Paul, Loriano, Enrico, Enza, Gabriella, Linda, Cori.
Overall, it went great. We shared information on family and activities and gave them a house tour. They are always very gracious and patient with our limited language skills, and of course we Americans always end up vowing inwardly to re-double our efforts to learn Italian so we can better communicate (even if we usually don’t follow through). I understood most of what they said, but the words came to me slowly when I spoke. I was able to translate a little for Linda and Cori, but for the most part, they were on their own.

“Everybody seemed happy and energized and had lots to talk about,” Linda said. “I understood what the subjects were but couldn’t really follow the details. It made me feel like a child again, because that’s how it was when dad and his sisters and brothers got together. They would be all gathered around and talking loudly all at the same time. They would start out in English and sometimes switch to Italian. I didn’t understand any of it, and tonight brought me back to my childhood.”

When I first came to Italy in 1996, I stayed with Enrico and Enza for about a week. I couldn’t speak much Italian and was treated as a special guest, enjoying huge meals and being taken on sight-seeing expeditions. Now I feel like our relationship is on a more relaxed and informal basis, which is what I had hoped it might be someday. Having cousins is truly a blessing.

Friday, April 22, 2016

Burning of olive branches an ancient tradition in Mediterranean region

Lucy adds branches to the fire. Piles of burning olive
branches is a common sight in Tuscany.
All through February, March and April, I see them—men and women out in the olive fields, trimming branches, piling them up and lighting them on fire. Thousands of trees and millions of branches fuel fires on every hillside. I’ve counted as many as a dozen fires visible from a single vantage point.

Considering the environmental impact of so many open fires, I’ve wondered why the branches aren’t hauled away for chipping and composting, or even chipped in the field with portable devices. I’ve been told that the burning must be completed by May 31, but a lot of smoke and ash is generated before that deadline.

Dorothea and Eberhard worked along side us.
I now have some ideas why burning is preferred to chipping, as Lucy and I had a chance this week to participate in the gathering and burning process. Our friends from Germany, Eberhard and Dorothea, invited us to their home in the hills near Viareggio, and we spent an afternoon and the next morning helping them clean up branches that had been cut for them by a local olive farmer.

Even though the branches had just been cut, they burned extremely quickly. Eberhard told me that we had to keep the burn pile small, and I soon saw why, as even a four-foot by four-foot pile created an intense heat. The leaves are full of oil, and they sparkle and flame up quickly, like dry fir tree needles, or small firecrackers. A larger pile would burn so hotly and quickly that you couldn’t go near it to add branches, and the heat would damage any nearby trees. The piles require near constant attention, though, because if left to burn alone for about three minutes, they will burn down and go out. The hot ashes can be rekindled fairly easily, but not without putting a lot of smoke into the air until they blaze up again.

Almost done!
Our conclusion was that a lot of branches can be burned in a short time, making burning more economical than hauling away or chipping. I’m also not sure that the chemicals in the oil-filled leaves and branches would make good compost anyway.

The chips, however, might be a good energy source. Olive pits are now being used in fireplaces and energy-producing incinerators. The website reports: “Olive pits don’t just burn; they burn well. In fact, pound for pound, olive pits produce more energy through combustion than hardwood, according to the not-for-profit engineering organization ASME. Musco Family Olive Co., for instance, generates about half of the electricity needed for the company’s olive processing plant to run simply by burning the olive pits that it once paid to ship to the landfill.” I would think that fuel from chipping olive leaves and branches would also be a good heat source.

Aside from that, we appreciated the chance to participate in an Italian tradition, a task that my ancestors performed for thousands of years.

“I loved being with our friends and doing something that we see Italians doing every year,” Lucy said. “It’s interesting to know that people have been doing exactly the same thing we did throughout the centuries.”

Our family ties with Ilio, Lara and Mauro Spadoni et al resolved

Ilio Spadoni
After some initial frustration, I found the link that connects the family of Ilio Spadoni of Ponte Buggianese to ours. The problem was that Ilio didn’t have quite the steel-trap memory that I thought he did. He had given me the wrong birth date for his grandfather Francesco and the wrong wife for his great grandfather Virgilio.

Lara Spadoni
When I stopped by Ilio’s house to ask for additional information, I talked to his sister Lara, because Ilio was out working in his fields. She looked at the info that Ilio had given me and said that the wife of great grandfather Virgilio had been Emilia Benedetti, not Annuziata Foderi. The latter had instead been married to one of Virgilio’s brothers, she said. Once I had this information, and the correct birth date for Francesco (which I found in the baptismal records of Ponte Buggianese), the clerk at Buggiano found the documents I needed to connect Ilio and Lara’s family to our tree.

Mauro Spadoni
Once again, though, the tie is distant, as it has been with many of the Spadoni families I have found here. Our nearest common ancestor is Francesco Spadoni, born around 1455. I had hoped to find that they had descended from one of the brothers of my great great grandfather Pellegrino Spadoni.

Yesterday I went back and met with Lara, Ilio, their brother Mauro, and Ilio’s wife Rosanna. I gave them a detailed line of descent dating back to 1430, showing all the names and dates I have for their ancestors. Ilio and Lara argued briefly over whether their great grandmother had been Emilia Benedetti or Annuziata Foderi. In the end, Ilio realized that he had remembered poorly and that Lara and the documents I had found were correct.

I also explained how the first Spadoni family of Stignano had probably been land owners and somewhat wealthy, because one of the three tombs beneath the floor of the church of Stignano is for the early Spadoni family. Ilio said that likely some of the first Spadoni families to move to Ponte Buggianese had been land owners, but in the passage of time, they had met with economic problems and also had to divide the land among their many sons. His nearest ancestors had been tenant farmers, as had most of the Spadoni families I’ve found in the region.
Lucia Spadoni x 2

When Lucy and I went to the weekly market in Ponte Buggianese today, we stopped at the hairdressing salon of Lucia, one of Ilio and Rosanna’s daughters. Lucy said that if she hadn’t already made an appointment with her regular hair dresser in Gig Harbor, she probably would have had Lucia cut her hair—one Lucia Spadoni cutting the hair of another.

Monday, April 18, 2016

I take on the challenge of a new and large Spadoni family puzzle

I had only meant to take a minute to drop off a family tree for Bruna Spadoni and her family, but I ended up with much more. I visited Bruna and her family two weeks ago (Back on the pleasant trail of distant cousins in Tuscany) to see if I could find out how I was related to Bruna. After finding the connection, I made up a family tree and drove over to drop it off yesterday afternoon.

Mario Nottoli, Bruna’s son-in-law, greeted me as I drove up, and he quickly explained that he had another Spadoni family that he’d like me to meet. Would I like him to take me there now? I had no camera, no notebook with family records, not even paper, but I’ve learned to seize the moment when a chance comes along, so I said, “Perchè no? Andiamo.” And we were off on a 10-minute drive from Chiesina to Ponte Buggianese to meet the large extended family of Ilio Spadoni.

Ilio lives on a farm on the edge of the Pescia River on the south side of Ponte Buggianese. Another eight members of the family gathered around the kitchen table to meet me. I didn’t even try to take down peoples’ names. I told them right away that I wanted to come back with my notebook and camera, and they said I would be welcome any time. Instead I borrowed some paper and began asking for information about family history.

Ilio thinks the farm has been in the family for a couple of hundred years. He said his family had moved from Stignano to Ponte Buggianese at some unknown time in the past. He also said (I think) that at one time his ancestors had been guards for a jail that had been located nearby. I did notice that his farm was located on Via Ponte alla Guardia, so that would fit with my understanding.

Ilio gave me information on the birth for his father and grandfather, including dates, months and years, which I found remarkable. My hobby is genealogy, and I can’t remember my grandfather’s date of birth (isn’t that why we have computers and notebooks?). He also provided the year of birth and name of his great grandfather. One of his granddaughters (I think that’s who it was) wrote out a detailed chart that included 40 family members, both living and dead, with dates of birth for many of them, also very impressive.

I promised to return with complete information on how we are related and with a family tree showing ancestors back to the 1400s, just as soon as I could check my records. Mario took me back to my car, and his wife Mara (Bruna’s daughter) thanked me for the family tree. I didn’t stay long, as it was nearly dinner time.

Back in the house, I met with some frustration when I found that my records didn’t include the birth of either Ilio’s grandfather Francesco, which Ilio had listed as Dec. 12, 1878, or his grandfather Virgilio in 1852. This morning I went to the city archives of both Buggiano and Ponte Buggianese, and they didn’t have them either. Prior to 1883, Ponte Buggianese didn’t have a city hall, so records were kept at Buggiano. I should have found Francesco’s birth there, and the clerk found a couple of Francesco Spadonis born around that time, but not a Francesco of Virgilio.

Virgilio’s birth would not be recorded in the city records because Toscana had only been part of the kingdom of Italy since 1861. However, I have meticulously copied all of the baptismal records from the church into my notebooks, and I found no Virgilio Spadoni born in 1852. I found one born in 1858, but he had a different wife, and his children didn’t match Ilio’s family at all.

I’ve met, either in person or online, nearly a dozen branches of the Valdinievole Spadoni family in the past few years, and I’ve always been able to place them in the family tree if they can give me family names and dates prior to 1900. Some people do crossword puzzles, sodaku, Words with Friends, geocaching and any number of mental exercises. My game is fitting together our family tree and finding new connections, and so I will dig into this. I have a new puzzle to solve, and that just makes the game more interesting. Hopefully I’ll have some results (and photos of new relatives) to show before we go back home in a few weeks.

Saturday, April 16, 2016

We fail to conquer Monte Sagro, but vow to return another time

Hike number two in our book of 50 Tuscan hikes didn’t pan out quite as expected—but it’s hard to have a bad day in Italy. We stayed flexible and still had a good time.
I told her to back up a couple more steps, but she wouldn't do it.

Looking out the window at 7 a.m., the sky was as clear as we have ever seen it in the Valdinievole. We left by 8:30 a.m. for a two-hour drive up past Carrara into the Alpi Apuane to hike above the marble quarries on the trail to Monte Sagro. The vista down to the quarries from the parking lot is unbelievable! Some high clouds were rolling in off the Tyrrhenian Sea, but we still had a clear view of the snow-white quarries and the red-tiled roofs of the city of Carrara. We could see all the way to the coast, although clouds obscured our view north toward La Spezia, Portofino and the Cinque Terre.
The amazing marble quarries of Carrara. Photos
don't do them justice!

We made a couple of mistakes that turned out to be good fortune, though. Following directions in the hiking book, we left our car in the designated parking lot and hiked about 20 minutes up a rough dirt road to the trail head. We saw a half dozen cars parked in a large dirt lot at the trail head, and we realized then that we could have easily driven this section and saved 40 minutes.

Dead end at the cave.
Our next mistake resulted from not following the guide more carefully, however. It said the trail goes “up onto a rocky ridge just above and parallel to the dirt road.” We didnt read that carefully, though, and the dirt road seemed like the most logical path to followuntil we found that it ended at a dark cave. After pulling out the guide book and retracing our path about 15 minutes back, we easily found the trail and had hiked up it for about 10 minutes when we met three men coming down.

The clouds kept coming, dropping lower each minute.
“È una bella giornata,” Lucy said as we passed them. “No, it’s not,” the last man said. “It’s windy, cold and the clouds are dropping down so you can’t see a thing up there. È una brutta giornata.”

We reconsidered for a moment. If we went any higher, we too would be enveloped in fog. We were on a ridge, unprotected from the wind and chill, and the hike is listed as three to four hours long. Did we really want to walk in the clouds for that long, without being able to see the mountains we had come to see? Probably not. So we went back down.

Exploring an abandoned house.
By the time we returned to the car, drove down a dead end road to explore a crumbling building that probably once housed marble miners and drove back down the winding road, the heavy fog had dropped almost to Carrara. We had hiked for an hour and a
Same house.
half and experienced a great view of the marble mountains before the clouds came. We realized then that had we not made two wrong moves, we would have been high on the chilly ridge, unable to see any mountains and maybe not even the trail, so our missteps had actually proven providential. We also knew that next time we should drive all the way to the trail head and start on the correct trail. I think Monte Sagro will still be there the next time we come to Italy, and we definitely will be back.
A nice field of daffodils near the parking lot.

Friday, April 15, 2016

Africans in Italy still have many kilometers to go for full acceptance

I have always found it odd that Italy, the European country closest to Africa, has so few people of African descent integrated into its society. We see plenty of Africans, but they are, for the most part, separate. I have never seen a black police officer, government official, grocery store clerk, train conductor, waiter or bank clerk.

Blacks play on the professional soccer and basketball teams, and they stand on the sidewalks and in piazzas selling purses, umbrellas, socks and a host of other household items. People of color usually sit apart by choice from whites on trains and buses. Why this separation occurs undoubtedly has no one simple answer, and I certainly don’t pretend to be an expert on race relations in Italy. However, lack of expertise has never stopped people from having an opinion or making observations.

Part of it is fear of the unknown. Stefano Mammi told me that immigration from Africa didn’t become commonplace until the 1990s.

“So many people started coming then, especially from Nigeria,” he said. “But there weren’t many jobs, and they didn’t learn the language quickly. Many of them saw Italy as a temporary place to earn some money, get their European citizenship and then move on to another country. A lot of them spoke English and wanted to go to England.” Some came from French-speaking African countries, and they hoped to eventually move to France, but Italy was easier to enter.

I recently read a “rant” on Facebook from my friend Alicia Gray Cortes, who complained that “so many Italians are racist.” She noticed that a black man had offered the empty bus seat next to him to some Italian teenagers, but they refused it.

Once on my way home I sat next to a Nigerian man, and we talked the whole hour-long ride,” she said. “He told me that Italians will never sit next to Africans and that he is always treated poorly. He mentioned how it makes him angry and it does not make him want to integrate and be a part of the culture and community. He said that I was obviously not Italian because I was not just sitting next to him but talking to him like an equal. It's sad and infuriating!”

One of Alicia’s friends followed up with a comment: “I can totally relate. I ditto your sentiments. I am a victim and have personally experienced racism from the Italians. I can tell you countless stories that will bring you to tears; however, they have gotten better. I've seen posters and pamphlets, educating the people on ‘manners and etiquette.’ They are trying, but it still hurts!

I see other hopeful signs that attitudes can be changed. Migrants who have remained in Italy send their children to public schools, and I see mixed race groups of children walking and talking together. The children often grow up speaking Italian without accents and adopting the values of their classmates, increasing their chances of being accepted into mainstream society.
Members of the Pro Loco Marliana preparing for the sagra.

We recently participated in the Sagra delle Frittelle Dolce in the rural community of Marliana. I noticed right away a young black man working alongside other members of the pro loco (a grassroots group of local volunteers working to promote the community). Members were helping people park, filling a large kettle with oil, setting up tables, preparing food and stoking a fire beneath the kettle. Oumaru wore a Marliana Pro Loco t-shirt and was interacting in a casual and friendly manner with the other men. Originally from Mali, he had been studying science at a university in Syria when warfare forced him to flee first to Libia and then Italy. The Italian government placed Oumaru in a hotel in Marliana, along with dozens of other refugees, so that he could learn Italian and receive the documents he would need to live and work on his own.

Mali is a French-speaking country, and Oumarou said that he had tried to go to France, but they refused to admit him. He has been in Marliana for more than a year, and he has found part-time work at the misericordia, an Italian group that provides emergency first aid. He is also attending a class in Firenze on “how to take care of people,” he said.

One of the local men, Pablo, explained that the government has sent as many as 40 immigrants at a time to Marliana. “At first, the older people here were scared,” he said. “They were afraid the people had come to steal from us, or at least take away our jobs. Gradually, the community has come to accept and help them. However, there still aren’t any jobs for most of them.”

Oumarou has been exceptionally well received, though. “He’s very intelligent,” Pablo said. “He learned Italian in just a few months, and now he’s like one of us, part of the community.”

The local priest has taken an active role in helping the immigrants, and someone in the community made an apartment available to Oumarou when his government housing allowance ran out. While it seems that he is on the road to transitioning into society, I wonder what will become of the other immigrants who weren’t able to learn Italian so quickly or find jobs.