Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Rain. And then some more rain. That’s pretty much all I have
seen during my first 10 days here, and today is no different, except the rain
has been harder today than usual. In some ways, this is a God-send,
because I have trouble sitting still and staying focused, and I have a lot of writing
to do. I am trying to record an account of the year I spent in Italy teaching at
the EISP in Padova. I have about 20 pages done, but I write slowly, and then
after I finish a paragraph or two, I have to pop up and pace around. I look out
the window at the rain, wash the dishes, read a few pages of a book or check my
e-mail or the news. Were it not raining, I’m sure I would take a bike ride or
walk and waste further time.
Yesterday around 10 a.m., the rain stopped and I rode my bike
to Ponte Buggianese, hoping to find more information about the interesting
family of Paolo Antonio Spadoni. He was the father of Italo, for whom a plaque
has been placed on the town hall, and also Gino Spadoni, who was charged with
murder in Tacoma. Another son, Bruno, went to jail for supplying a gun which
was used in a murder of two Fascists. A fourth son, Guido, emigrated to San
Francisco. He became a metal craftsman and raised 10 children whose offspring
surely are distant relatives of our Spadoni family of Washington.
Just how we are related was the reason for my ride to Ponte
Buggianese, but I was thwarted. Paolo Antonio was born in 1860 or 1861, so his stato di famiglia document must be at
Buggiano, I am told, because Ponte Buggianese did not have a comune until 1883. But all of his
children were born in Ponte Buggianese after 1883, I say, so wouldn’t his stato di famiglia have been transferred
here? Not necessarily, the clerk said. I should go to Buggiano to find his exact
date of birth and marriage. Then she can look for his stato di famiglia. It seems to me that she
could at least try: I have his approximate year of birth, the name of his wife
and the name of all four children and their dates of birth. Surely there should
be some kind of index that could point her in the right direction, but she
makes it clear that our conversation is over. I must go and find this
information before she will help me further.
When I left the comune, it had started to sprinkle lightly.
Buggiano is about three miles away, so this search will have to wait for another day. I
stopped to buy a few groceries and made it home just before the rain returned
in earnest.
Today the rain does not relent until after 1 p.m., but that’s
when the comune at Buggiano closes, so I stay home and write—and pace, and
read, and dawdle. Fortunately the rain doesn’t resume and I am able to stay dry
during my half hour bike ride to Pescia, where I arrive at 4 p.m and continue
looking into the family line of Narciso Spadoni. I look for the full two and half
hours that the archives are open and find nothing new from the parish ledger of
Borgo a Buggiano, which means that sometime prior to 1764, the family lived in
a different parish. I check the parish records for nearby Buggiano and also
come up empty, so I will perhaps try Ponte Buggianese next time.
Now it’s back home, with a stop at Bar Grazia to pick up one
of their fabulous pizzas, a great way to top off the day.
Rain, rain, rain - sounds the same there as here. Don't worry about feeling like you may be wasting time. Writing can't be forced! Just enjoy the luxury of quiet down time and you will feel restored quickly. Writing will come in due course.
ReplyDeleteCalvin