More adventures with the transit police on the Firenze tram

 The transit police struck again when Lucy and I took the airport-to-train station-tram in Firenze a few days ago—but they didn’t get us this time. In fact, we went on the tram for free, sort of.

This story really began last spring, when we were taking the tram from the train station to the airport. You can read the full story here, but the short version is that the tram was packed like grapes in a wine press when we boarded, and we couldn’t reach the ticket validating machine. By the time we reached the end of the line, though, the tram was no longer crowded, and that’s when two transit officers entered and fined us 50 euros each for having unvalidated tickets. However, they didn’t confiscate our tickets, and I had saved them in my wallet all summer. I saw nothing on the tickets that suggested an expiration date, so I used them when we boarded the tram this time. Of course, I validated them immediately upon entering.

At about the third stop along the route, I looked out the tram window and saw a dejected and confused elderly couple seated at a bench, conversing with a tram officer. I noticed the man reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet. As we watched, a lady next to us on the tram quickly gathered her things and exited; it was obvious that she wanted to avoid the same fate. Seconds later, two other officers entered our tram and began checking for validated tickets. Our four-month-old tickets passed the test.

Photo from May 2025.

All the people around us passed as well, but I overhead one of the officers telling a couple in the next car that they must exit at the next stop, and I knew this meant that the officer would exit with them and charge them for having unvalidated tickets, or maybe no tickets at all. And that’s fair, because they couldn’t even argue as I did last time—unsuccessfully—that the validation machine couldn’t be reached. And ultimately, I could have reached it after the crowds had thinned out, so my fine was justified as well. It’s hard to mount a very effective argument that I was too lazy to get out of my seat after I had finally found a place to sit. Some people must learn the hard way.

The treasured last letter of an Italian mother to her teenaged son

Fifteen-year-old Seghiero Giocondo Seghieri left his home in the San Salvatore suburb of Montecarlo, Italy, in early February of 1909—one of some 3 million Italians who came to America between the years of 1900 and 1915 for the opportunity to improve their lives. He was fortunate to have as traveling companions his brother Ruggero, his sister Anita, and Anita’s new husband Michele Spadoni. Both Ruggero and Michele had worked in America before returning to San Salvatore, and this eased Seghiero’s transition into the new world. Michele had worked in America from 1903 midway through 1908, and when he finally felt prosperous enough, he returned to Montecarlo to marry Anita in November of 1908. Through Michele’s connections, the three men were all able to find housing and immediate employment in Clay City, Washington, a factory town near Eatonville where Michele had previously worked making bricks.

Seghiero Seghieri

Like most Italian immigrants, Seghiero had hoped to return to his parents and friends in Italy with a tidy sum of money in his pockets, but it was not to be. He did finally return to visit Montecarlo when he was in his 60s, but by this time his parents and most of his acquaintances had passed away. When Seghiero himself passed away at the age of 89, his granddaughter Lita Dawn Stanton Ancich found a weathered letter tucked away in his dresser. It was from his mother, Ines (Capocchi) Seghieri, sent to him in early 1910.

“It was written on that light air-mail paper and had begun to deteriorate,” Dawn said. “None of us had ever seen it.”

Ines

The letter is full of motherly love and pride in the success of her teenaged son, whom she recognizes as having become a man. She also joyfully looks forward to his return. Sadly, Ines never saw young Seghiero again, as she passed away suddenly on March 1, 1910, just 10 days before Seghiero’s 17th birthday.

Dawn recently sent it to me for translation, and I received the able assistance of our friend and cousin Elena Benvenuti. “None of us had ever seen the letter,” Dawn said. “His mother’s beautiful hand-writing made it possible to identify most of the spellings, but using Google Translate to decipher her message was a challenge. Your translation gave us the opportunity to revisit that time. The longing for her son must have been unbearable.”

Here is the letter.

My dear son Seghiero,

I had a feeling there was a letter on the way for me, and it eventually arrived. I cannot describe how happy I felt. I cannot describe my joy. You asked me to forgive you for not writing to me before. How could I not forgive you? Poor young Seghiero, forced to find a job and to part from his parents, over there, in that kind of desert. And when you come back home, very tired from work, you do not feel like writing to me, should I hold a grudge? I would be very ungrateful. I am very grateful that when Anita writes to me, you add greetings by your hand. By recognizing your writing, I can imagine that I see you; seeing your handwriting with my mind, I see you. Ruggero said you've turned into a young man, and I am happy, I do not think I deserve it!

As I have said to Ruggero, please send me a pair of stockings. Tell me what you are doing, so when Pipi comes I will gladly send him to you. Your friends here want you and often ask about you; the  girls often ask about you. How happy was your father (and so was I ) to see how much money you earned! 

May the Good Lord be thanked that you are in good health. Pray to him, Seghiero, so that He will keep us in good health till the day we will hug again. What a party it will be! We must turn the whole San Salvatore upside down. Keep yourself healthy. Take care of yourself. Do bear love for me and receive a thousand greetings and kisses from your mother, who always thinks of you.
Ines Seghieri

Prologue: Seghiero and his older sister Anita, my grandmother, did return to visit San Salvatore in 1912. Anita brought with her daughters Nelda and Clara, ages 1 and 2. While there, Anita gave birth to another daughter, named—in honor of Anita’s late mother—Lola Ines. Anita’s father, Torello Seghieri, then age 65, was still in good health, though he passed away three years later. The youngest child of Torello and Ines, Rosina (age 12 when her siblings departed), had remained with her parents, finally immigrating in 1919. By then, all of Rosina’s siblings had moved to Shore Acres, a community on the edge of Gig Harbor, Washington. Rosina joined them there, using (presumably) money she had inherited from Torello to purchase and operate a small grocery store. The Seghieri and Spadoni families played a significant role in the social life and development of Shore Acres, and their heritage continues today.

Additional note: It is not known to whom Ines refers to as “Pipi.” This nickname was used for males, so it did not refer to Rosina. It probably referred to one of the male first cousins of the Seghieri siblings.

Top: Seghiero Seghieri, Anita Seghieri, unidentified cousin. Front: unidentified cousin, Ruggero Seghieri, Rosina Seghieri. I believe the unidentified cousins are the daughters of one of the sisters of Ines Capocchi. This photo was taken in Italy, prior to 1909, when all of the offspring of Torello and Ines were still at home in San Salvatore.