A few thoughts about Torello Seghieri

Saturday, April 14

I have several photos of great grandfather Torello Seghieri, but otherwise few details about his life have survived through the years. Piecing together his existence takes some research, some assumptions and a little guesswork.

Torello was born in 1847 into the farming family of Seghiero Andrea Seghieri and Maddelena del Tredici. Although poor by today’s standards, the Seghieris were not tenant farmers. The family likely was upper middle class at the time, owning large tracts of fertile land in the flatlands below the stately medieval hilltop city of Montecarlo, in a neighborhood named Marcucci, after an earlier ancestor named Marco Seghieri. Historical and legal records show that the family owned its own land since at least 1300 and probably continued to add to its holdings through the years.

Torello, the oldest of six children, likely grew up working the land with his father and cousins, and he could have inherited the land and watched as first his children and then his grandchildren worked the soil. But he chose a different route, making a sacrifice that enriched the lives of his children, though it ultimately deprived him of the opportunity to see the results of this enrichment.

According to family lore passed on by word of mouth, Torello taught, conducted and composed music. Several pieces of archival evidence support this story.

First, I find that in his father’s “stato di famiglia” document from the 1800s, Torello is listed as a member of the family who is not present in the household. State of family records commenced in 1866 and were periodically updated to reflect additions in the family. Younger brothers Luigi and Natale are still living in the house, along with their wives and children. Youngest brother Egisto is also listed, as are sisters Anna and Cesira. A later notation indicates that Egisto moved to Pescia in 1883.

Where was big brother Torello, age 19, in 1866? It is quite possible that he had left home to study music. Montecarlo is not large enough to house a university or school of music. However, fewer than 20 kilometers to the west is Lucca, birthplace of famous composer Giacomo Puccini (1858-1924). I read online that Puccini studied music under his uncle, the choir director and organist in a large Lucca church. When he was 21, he continued his education in the Milan conservatory of music, which today bears his name.

Torello could have moved to Lucca to study music. Another possibility would be Firenze and its university, which has a school of music, 60 kilometers to the east of Montecarlo.

The second document provides more definitive evidence. It is a copy of a certificate of award passed down through my family’s generations. It was granted to Torello in 1889, when he was 42. I can read most of it, but I have asked some Italian acquaintances to help with the interpretation. They tell me it signifies that Torello wrote a duet to be judged by a music society. It was graded superior and awarded a silver medallion, and “Maestro Signor Torello Seghieri” was named to the organization’s honor society. The group giving the award, the Society of Musical Artists, is located in Palermo, Sicily, and I am told it is likely Torello would have traveled there to direct the performance, or possibly to perform the work with another musician.

Just who is pictured in the upper left I don't know, but Torello Seghieri's name is handwritten a few lines below the word diploma, starting under the D.

Ines Capocchi

Wherever it was that Torello went for his education, he returned to Marcucci and married Ines Capocchi around 1880, and they had four children born from 1883 through 1896: Anita, Ruggero, Seghiero and Rosa. My aunt Lola says he taught music and directed for local concerts and plays. Could he have made a living solely through his music? Considering that he owned property and lived on a farm among relatives, it seems quite likely, since his expenses would have been minimal.

Anita, his eldest daughter, had the opportunity to become well educated and became a governess for a relative whose family had ties to the noble Bizzarri family of Pisa. The Seghieri-Bizzarri family so appreciated her work that they took Anita with them when the father received a government appointment to work in France. During her several years there, Anita not only enjoyed the privileges of living as a member of this wealthy family, but she also learned to speak French.

However, as sometimes happens when one’s children are given a taste of education and culture, their aspirations for the future can lead them far away. Economic times in Italy during the late 1800s and early 1900s were harsh, leading to an unprecedented Italian migration to the Americas. In all, nearly 25 million Italians left the country during a 100-year period, mostly between 1880 and 1910.

This must have been taken around 1909.
Back: Alfonso?, Ruggero, Torello.
Front: Egidio, Seghiero. Egidio was a nephew
of Torello and the grandfather of Don
Seghieri of California.

Ruggero at age 19 first ventured to the United States in 1905, living in Chicago for several years before returning to Italy. In 1908, Anita married a hard-working young man from a local family of farmers, Michele Spadoni. His family was poor, and he was the youngest child and thus not in line to inherit any property, but he was ambitious.

Michele had gone to America in 1903 and found steady work, and now he had come back to Italy with money in his pocket, ready to take a bride and start his own family. Two months after he married Anita, the couple boarded a ship to America. Also on board were Ruggero and 16-year-old brother Seghiero, leaving Torello and Ines with 13-year-old Rosina as their only child remaining in Italy.

One can imagine the mixed feelings of sadness, pride and hope that Torello and Ines must have felt in seeing their children depart. They sent letters and photos back and forth, but Ines passed away the next year without ever seeing them again. The three returned to visit Torello, and Anita even brought back her two youngest daughters for a short visit in 1912. She stayed long enough to give Torello the joy of being present for the birth of Anita’s third daughter, Lola.

Torello died Aug. 23, 1915, at age 58, one year after Anita gave birth to my father in America. Rosina stayed in Italy for a few more years before joining her brothers and sisters in Gig Harbor. I wish I could tell Torello and Ines how well their family has fared in America, how large we have grown and how Anita’s children started a family business that lasted for more than 50 years, supporting their families and improving the lives of their descendants. I wish I could tell them that I know it was hard to see their children leave, but we appreciate their sacrifice.

More bothersome un-Italian traits

Thursday, April 12: Conclusion of theme begun April 10

One might think that because I enjoy Italy so much, I must be a connoisseur of fine art, one who studies and appreciates the talents of the impressive Italian artists and the frescoes and statues they have left throughout the country—because truly this place is an art-lover’s dream. But this is just another example of a characteristic where I come up lacking, where I am not ideally suited to make the most of my opportunity of living in Italy.

What are these men talking about? Answers given below.

Some people come here for two weeks and do nothing but traipse around looking at the art and architecture. I visit a famous work of art every so often, but it is usually more by accident than design. I wish I were more passionate about these things, because it would make my time here even more special, but this is one of those personal shortcomings that I have come to accept.

Next on my list of unfortunate likes and dislikes: I am not at heart a night person, and this is a disadvantage for someone trying to blend in with Italian society. Dinners by the agriturismo’s catering service often start around 9 p.m. It is also typical for movies to start at 9 p.m. on weeknights, and if it is a popular movie, it will have a second showing around 11 p.m.

The example that most sticks in my mind occurred about 10 years ago, when I was teaching in Padova. A few of us guys from the school decided to spend an evening out at a place advertising that it had “American Bowling.” We arrived at around 10:30 p.m. and found the lanes empty. It doesn’t look like American bowling in Italy is catching on. This place isn’t going to survive long, we think.

We checked out our shoes, picked our balls and bowled a couple of games. When we left, around midnight, I realized that every lane was in use. The bar was packed, the video games were crowded. It’s just that we had arrived so . . . early.

We gradually adjust, eating dinners later and later, though we don’t usually eat past 8 p.m., which might be opening time here for a restaurant. Just as we finally adjust to the time shift, we will go back to the states and have to readjust. Last year, shortly after we returned, we tried to go to an Italian restaurant in Tacoma. We arrived at about 7:50 p.m., only to be told they were closing for the night in a few minutes.

Last on my list of non-Italian traits is my reserved personality. As I watch Italians engage in loud and animated discussions in restaurants and bars, I sometimes think, if I could speak Italian better, I could be part of that group. I often see Italian men my age and older, sitting or standing together in parks and outside of bars, talking enthusiastically about who knows what. Sometimes Lucy says, “You should go sit with them. They might talk to you too.”

Then I realize that besides the language barrier, this is not something I would typically do in America, where I excel in English and am knowledgeable about current events and the latest sports scores and scandals. I am generally quiet in crowds, preferring one-on-one conversations or very small groups. I don’t like to yell and rant about the crooks in the government or the terrible performance of the local star in yesterday’s big soccer match. I am a good listener but not so fascinating to listen to. At home in Washington, you won’t often find me sitting around chatting with other guys or in the center of a large group, so I shouldn’t expect that to change here.

I do have a pretty good idea what they are talking about, based on the time I have spent with Italian relatives and backed up by a 1,200-person Facebook survey by the people who make Sanbitter, a non-alcoholic aperativo. The survey, which allowed people to select more than one favorite topic, showed that 48% are talking politics. Sports, primarily soccer, also scored high at 42%. Then came work at 37%, gossip at 35% and shopping at 33%. Movies finished last at 25%.

So I wouldn’t do well in these discussions, even if I had an outgoing personality and spoke Italian well. Italian politics, with at least six major parties whose names change every so often, is baffling even to most Italians. I also know little about Italian soccer. However, I have deduced that one can hold his own for a minute or two by complaining that the politicians are all thieves and the footballers are grossly overpaid and self-absorbed.

In spite of the evidence that I don’t fit in perfectly with my image of Italian-ness, I remain hopelessly hooked for other reasons. I note that most of the Italians I know are also un-Italian in some ways. We are in the final month of a six-month experiment with living in Italy, and though we haven’t decided what the future holds, it undoubtedly will include Italy in some form. Just what that will be is a topic we think about nearly every day, but we are in no hurry to decide. For now, we are too busy exploring the things we have in common with Italy.

In which I find the missing link . . .

Wednesday, April 11

Part of me feels like giving this account in chronological order, but that would go against my journalistic training, and besides it might be so boring that nobody would read to the end. So I’ll just come out with it from the start: I have discovered a link between our family tree and the family tree of some Spadoni families who live in Italy, and this jumps our tree back another seven generations, spanning 160 years without any effort on my part. It also adds more than 120 names of family members who branch out in different directions.

This continues the research I did exactly a week ago at the parish archives in Pescia, but today went much differently than last time. My helpful superstar researcher Andrea Mandroni, who found four members of my family last time, was busy almost the entire time helping other people, so I had to do the searching myself this time. While he read through maybe three ledgers of infant baptisms in an hour last week, I take two and a half hours today to make it four-fifths of the way through one ledger. The writing is painfully difficult to read, but my skills gradually improve as the minutes tick by.

I am fortunate that the Spadoni surname has been established for so long, because many of the people had no surnames. A typical entry, translated, might read: “Giovanni, of Giuseppe, of Andrea, of Michele, mother Luisa, of Federico, was baptised.” So now you would have the baptism and birth date of Giovanni, and then you would have to guess the birthdate of his father Giuseppe, who could have been anywhere between age 20 and about 45, and look through numerous ledgers for Giuseppe to find his baptism record. But there are hundreds of Giuseppes, so you have to find the one who had a father named Andrea and a grandfather named Michele. At this point, you may find out who was the father of Michele, and you can continue back in this painstaking way.

For me, though, I just have to look in the first two lines of each paragraph to see if I find the name Spadoni. At first I don’t realize this and take too long trying to read the whole of each paragraph. Many of the words are indecipherable, but I have to skip them because at least I know they don’t look like Spadoni. An Italian lady across from me is looking in the same archives, Ponte Buggianese, but in the ledger from another time. I overhear her say she is looking for Buonamici, and I find four of these in my ledger and call her attention to them. She copies down the relevant information and thanks me.

This paragraph signifies the baptism of Lionardo. See
the name Spadoni in the line below Lionardo?

I almost come up empty on the Spadoni line—but with about 15 minutes before closing time, I call Andrea over when I find an entry that refers to the baptism of Lionardo Spadoni in 1677, the son of Lorenzo, the son of Lionardo. Andrea looks at the family tree he has on file and announces that I have found the link. Lorenzo was born in 1628 in Stignano, about 3 miles away from Ponte Buggianese. All his known ancestors can be found in the files of Stignano, but then Lorenzo disappeared from the Stignano records because he moved somewhere else--which turns out to be Ponte Buggianese. There, he and wife Uliva (last name not given) gave birth to Lionardo. The only thing that might call this theory into question is his age, which would be 49 when his son was born. That’s old, says Andrea, but not all that unusual. Older men sometimes (and still do) take young wives. It could even have been a second wife, Andrea suggests. Both files identify the father of Lorenzo as (another) Lionardo, so the evidence is strong in favor of this connection.

Andrea takes but a few minutes to peruse the rest of the ledger and quickly finds a brother of Lionardo, born three years later, in 1680, yet another Lorenzo. This is unusual, because the father and son would share the same name, not something commonly done during this era. But the office is closing, so I can’t question Andrea about this now. I will have one more opportunity to come back and double check my facts, either Friday or next Wednesday, but my time here is running short, as we leave Tuscany in about 10 days for Sardegna and then a short trip on a cruise line before returning to the states.

If our findings hold up under additional scrutiny, this would be the list of my ancestors, starting with my dad: (Julius) Giulio, Michele, Pietro, Pellegrino, Francesco, Lorenzo, Lionardo, Lorenzo, Lionardo, Lorenzo, Giuliano Romolo, Bartolomeo, Francesco, Bartolomeo. I also have the names of many brothers and sisters and spouses.

In a way, this brings me to closure on both the Seghieri and Spadoni family lines, because the families here have used all their resources to get us back to Bartolomeo Spadoni, around 1430, and Giunta Seghieri, 1310. If the crack local historians can’t get back any farther, then I am finished moving in this direction.

I could, if I choose, try to trace the lines of my great grandmothers, Maria Marchi on the Spadoni side, and Ines Capocchi on the Seghieri side. I could also branch out and continue down some of the more recent lines, such as finding out what happened to the descendants of great grandfather Pietro Spadoni’s brothers and sisters. I also still haven’t found the connection between the two predominant Seghieri lines in our neighborhood here. Well, if I decide to continue coming here in future years, I will still have plenty to do. But all those are decisions for another day, because today is a day to savor and celebrate.

I want to be Italian, but I come up lacking in some vital areas

Tuesday, April 10

A year ago March, I wrote a four-part entry about the top 10 things I like about Italy. I’ve thought about writing a similar essay about the things I don’t like about Italy, but I think it would be a short and boring list. Instead I’m going to name top five reasons I do not make a good Italian. I love it here, and I would like to fit in with the crowd, but some of my likes, dislikes and personality traits just don’t align with what is typically Italian.

These don’t need to go in any particular order, so I’ll just list them in the order they pop into my head. My first problem is I don’t really like coffee—American or Italian—and I’m not wild about wine. I prefer fruit juices, water and sometimes milk. Since caffé and vino are the staple drinks of Italians, I’m often faced with the choice between drinking what I like and drinking what everyone else is having.  My cousins here were amazed the first time I visited when I said, “Non mi piace caffé.” They looked at me as if I had said, “I don’t like sunshine.”

I’m sure I could develop a liking for it, but it’s just never been a part of my diet. I remember people telling me as a boy that coffee is an acquired taste, and I thought, “Well, it doesn’t really have any nutritional value, and it stains your teeth, so why should I try to acquire this taste?” I made the same decision about soft drinks and cigarettes. But now, it doesn’t do my quest for Italian friends any good to turn down an invitation for a cup of coffee, so I always accept, and I am gradually acquiring a liking for it. If we are at a bar, I can easily order a cioccolata calda, which I really love, but if I am in someone’s home, I don’t want to put them to the extra trouble. I just add a little extra sugar and I do just OK.

I like wine just fine, but it would be better if I were passionate about it, because there are so many vineyards around that offer free wine tastings. I could have a fantastic time driving around and sampling them all, talking with my friends about the various qualities of each type.

“This rosso is velvety but at the same time vigorous and ripe. However, it is a trifle too woody for my tastes, and the finish doesn’t match the initial boquet. But the balance and character of this bianco is stunning; it is full and flowery, without a trace of coarseness.”

 I can’t tell much difference between a cheap wine and a something really special and expensive, so if I went on one of the “strada del vino” tours, I wouldn’t get much out of it except for the pleasure of socializing with other people on the tour. And while the wine samples are free, the vineyards do expect that most people will eventually purchase something. I can just imagine the conversation.

“Which one do you like, signore?”

“Oh, I like them all. They’re really good.”

“Would you like to buy one?”

“No, I’m going to go to the supermarket and buy something really cheap that’s on sale.”

Here I am about to head
out for the passeggiata. . . NOT!

My second un-Italian trait has to do with appearance and clothing. I appreciate the stylish way Italians dress. They take such time and attention to shop and dress carefully, and I love watching them make the bella figura during passeggiata. Unfortunately, I am too cheap or lazy to join in. I’m not sloppy or unkempt, but nondescript would be an apt term for my clothing tastes. Plain jeans are just too comfortable for me to abandon, and expensive shirts are, well, expensive. I feel maybe just a trifle selfish, because other people spend money for my viewing pleasure, and I don’t reciprocate—but nobody is making them do it, so I don’t feel too bad on that regard. It’s just that I like the feeling that I belong here. I am an Italian citizen, so I feel I should make more effort to fit the role.

The best I can do on this front is a bit of compromise. I have, with some helpful prodding from Lucy, purchased some Italian shirts and sweaters, which I wear when going out to dinner, and I wear black jeans because so many Italians dress in black. But the Armani suits will have to wait until pigs can fly.

Continue to page 2: More bothersome un-Italian traits

Good personal guide well worth cost

We toured Lucca during one of the few rainy days we
have encountered here, but our tour with Elena
Benvenuti was still memorable. She is explaining the
construction of the three different types of city walls.

Monday, April 9

I like traveling in Italy on a low budget, using public transportation whenever possible and finding unusual places to visit by researching on the Internet. Hiring a personal tour guide is not something that comes to mind when one thinks about low cost travel in Italy, but there are times when it does make good financial success. A good tour guide can save much time and also arrange or provide transportation at a reasonable price. If you’ve ever received a ticket for speeding, parking or driving in a limited traffic zone, you’ll wish that you had chosen to ride with an experienced driver who knows how to avoid these problems and take you right to your destination (my speeding ticket last year cost me nearly $400).

But the best thing about a travel guide is being able to go where most tourists are not able to go, and also to understand what one is seeing. For example, I have lived near the city of Lucca for four months, taking language lessons and regularly exploring the streets. My language school gave me two short tours of the city, and I thought I knew the city well enough. But we had a chance to take a walk through Lucca with Elena Benvenuti, a professional tour guide, and it was almost like seeing it for the first time.

She drove us into the city, parking in the only free parking lot near the city wall, and showed us things we had walked past before without noticing, or that we had seen but not understood what they signified. She took us to free museums we didn’t know about, to excavations of underground ruins, and to places she had selected just for us, based on our particular interests.

For example, I told her I was more interested in archeology than art, so we went easy on the frescoes but instead looked beneath the baptistery of San Giovanni to view 1200 years and five stages of history revealed by recent excavations.  The oldest stage corresponds with a Roman domus of the first century AD., followed by a spa complex. We see the water channeling systems used to fill the thermal baths. At the next level up is a 4th or 5th century baptistery, and above this one from the early middle ages. Above that are evidences of the Longobard occupation, tombs covered with stone slabs. The baptistery was rebuilt for the last time in the 12th century. The font is large, apparently designed for baptism by immersion. We also see four circular furnaces that were created on the floor to obtain lime for the construction process.

More examples: Lucy is interested in fabrics, so we are taken to see two shops that create silk and other fabrics on huge and elaborate hand looms. We also see two works of art on exterior walls that we have passed before without noticing. Elena points the first one out, and we see a puzzling story with some women, a child and the devil off to the side, and we wonder what is going on. Elena explains that a foolish mother, angered at the misbehavior of her child, said, “May the devil take you.” But when the devil came, the mother prayed for help, and Mary, the Madonna Del Succorso, came to the rescue.

These are just a few examples of the knowledge we gain in just a couple of hours. We could have walked around the city for a year and never been aware of the sights we are shown and stories we are told. It makes our favorite mid-sized Italian city all the more meaningful. Even a cheap travel enthusiast such as me has to admit that at times, the services of a guide are well worth the expense. You can read more about Elena at her website, Lucca Tourist Guide.

Italian Easter pranzo bursts with flavor, friendship, yearning for family

An all-you-can-eat platter of
coniglio. Molto buono!

Sunday, April 8

We are privileged today to enjoy an Easter lunch, Italian style, here at Casolare dei Fiori. The crew has been working all week to get the food and grounds ready for the nearly 200 people who come to a fantastic catered pranzo. I have no doubt we are the only stranieri present, so we get a true peak at a completely Italian event.

The food is never-ending and indescribably delicious. Aperitivi (before-meal drinks), nuts and chips are served outside, and once seated, we start with an antipasto plate with varied types of crostini and salami, along with fried pasta. Oh, I almost forgot, pickled onions and green olives, too. Drinks are local Montecarlo red and white wines. Also water and non-alcoholic fruit juices are available. Then not one but two primi piatti: risotto with asparagus and pappardelle al ragú. We are offered second helpings, but we are experienced enough to refuse, knowing we need to save space for what is to come.

The antipasto has about 10 different items.

For the secondo, we have a contorno of fried potatoes and three types of meat: chicken, lamb and rabbit, and we sample a little of each. All are bursting with flavor, which is typical of the meats and poultry we find here. Because they are raised on small farms and fed natural foods, the livestock is not as plump but much more savory. It is similar to the difference between eating out-of-season fruit and vegetables and ripe, locally grown produce. People who have ever grown their own strawberries and tomatoes will understand this comparison.

Risotto asparagi

Next comes a sampling of bistecca fiorentina, sliced and seasoned with aromatic herbs, that explodes flavorfully in our mouths. The dessert, tiramisú, comes with more choices of drinks, which I decline, but I think they may be spumante and vinsanto. All this is followed by a powerful cup of espresso. Also on the menu are after-meal liquors, but we have to pass on these as well.

Pappardelle al ragu

We are seated at a table with Claudia and her twin girls, who will be 3 years old next month. She is Luca’s wife, but of course Luca is fully involved in the preparation and serving of the meal, so he is not able to join us. However, we also sit next to her parents, who help take care of the bambine. We appreciate that they take the time to converse with us and make sure our cups are always filled with wine.

The pace is leisurely, typical for a festive pranzo, since conversation among the families present is an integral part of the event. The servers, however, work at a feverish pace. They are in constant motion, dishing up courses and serving and removing plates. Between courses, some people step outside for a brief walk around the grounds or to smoke a cigarette.

One of Luca and Claudia's twins enjoys playing with her bread while seated with her grandparents.

We saved room for tiramisu, but I
couldn't quite finish the whole tray.

The entire meal takes a remarkable four hours. We explain to our tablemates that in America, we put all the food on the table at once, and the meal is over in less than an hour. But we add that we appreciate the Italian style, because of the way it promotes conversation and togetherness. I can easily see, though, that many Americans would complain that the service was interminably slow. The meal takes longer than average even for Italy, and I think that is because it is Easter, but it could also be partly that the staff just can’t go any faster, considering the number of guests and variety of plates.

Because we don’t have close family here and struggle with the language, we don’t receive the full benefit of the experience, but we enjoy the companionship vicariously. At one point, I look over at Lucy and see tears on her cheeks, and I know she is thinking about and missing our family. That is part of the price we pay for our adventurous nature. We enjoy and appreciate so many things about Italy, but we can never really be at home here without our family. It is ironic that we have come here to see the Italian lifestyle up close, and what we are seeing today, though both delicious and poignant, tells us that we really need to go home if we want to experience one of the most important aspects of being Italian—the family. Either that, or we need to bring everyone over here!

More intriguing Seghieri discoveries

Saturday, April 7

Montecarlo has its own local superstar of family history, Doctor Sergio Nelli. I heard him speak last year about local history at a town celebration of Italy’s 150th birthday, and I knew then that I had to meet him. The records clerk in the Montecarlo municipio gave me his name and phone number two weeks ago, but I hesitated to contact him until I had the services of a good translator. I knew that the information he could give me would be too valuable to risk missing some important details because of my imperfect language abilities.

Bi-lingual friend Elena Benvenuti has arranged a meeting in Doctor Nelli’s home on the main street in Montecarlo. He welcomes us graciously, and we find him friendly and relaxed, though it is obvious he takes history very seriously. He has worked at the state archives in Lucca for 33 years, and his hobby and work, he says, are almost indistinguishable.

On the walls of his dining room, which seems to double as an office, are extensive and complex charts of both his own and his wife’s family trees. Scattered historical ledgers and a laptop computer cover the table, and before we arrived, he was working on genealogical records for another family. He has been entrusted with Montecarlo’s city and church files, and he is transferring the data to an extensive Excel spreadsheet.

He has nothing on the Spadoni family, because most of his data is prior to 1900, when the Spadonis were still in Pescia, but he is a goldmine of material about the Seghieri line. Last year I benefitted from extensive family research handed to me by third cousin Fausto Seghieri, dating our family line back to the middle 1500s.

I had thought this was the farthest back the records went. Not so. Doctor Nelli already has family trees on file taking our line back to Giunta Seghieri in 1310. I have never heard this name before, and it is a slightly unusual ending for a male name. However, Ancestry.com says it comes “from a short form of the personal name Bonag(g)iunta, literally ‘good addition,’ a name commonly given in the late Middle Ages to a long-awaited or much-desired son.” This somehow makes my discovery even more significant, knowing how special my ancestor must have been to his parents to merit this name of endearment.

The tree that dates back to Giunta spreads out and follows numerous branches into the 1500s, so if the other Seghieri families here can trace their ancestors back that far, they might all find out how they are connected—and it looks like Doctor Nelli has the files that could make that possible.

He provides other valuable tidbits as well. He has property records that show the family has lived on via Mattonaia since the 13th century, and that in 1780 there was a river called Rio dei Seghieri. Most likely this is now what is called Fosso (ditch or trench) di Montecarlo, which runs right through Seghieri land.

He also provides a hint about why this neighborhood is called Marcucci. Linguistically speaking, Marcucci would be the offspring of Marco, or more specifically, cute little Marcos. In our line, we have three ancestors named Marco in the 1500s, possibly the source of the place name.

Another mystery has been the Seghieri-Bizzarri family line, and once again Doctor Nelli has information. Double names result when a male marries a woman from a wealthy noble family, because the children benefit from having a name associated with the more prestigious family. It appears that a Montecarlo Seghieri married a Bizzarri from the Pisa area, perhaps in the late 1700s or early 1800s. Each reference to a Seghieri-Bizzarri mentions that he was a landowner in Montecarlo, and one Seghieri-Bizzarri was gonfaloniere—similar to a mayor—of Montecarlo. Several members of this line were Knights of Saint Stefano, and at least one was a member of the priori of the knights, a high position of leadership. Looking online later, I find that Leopoldo Seghieri-Bizzarri is listed as a surgeon in 1859 and Simone Seghieri-Bizzarri was both a knight and a lawyer. Arcadio Seghieri-Bizzarri wrote an elementary school textbook.

I also read online that the Sacro Militare Ordine di Santo Stefano Papa e Martire was a Tuscan religious and dynastic military order created in 1561 by Cosimo I dé Medici. Its original mission was to fight the Ottoman Turks and Mediterranean pirates. Only noblemen with no heretics in the family line could join.

I was once told by one of my older relatives that my great uncle Seghiero “Jim” Seghieri, on one of his return visits to Italy, met with a Seghieri descendant from a noble line. At some time in the 1900s, however, the Seghieri-Bizzarri line vanished. I search the Italian white pages directory for the name, and nothing comes up except someone in Firenze, a person with the surname Casamorata Seghieri Bizzarri on via Vittorio Emmanuele II, 43.

This family research is a strange and entertaining pastime. I can spend several days riding around to offices and coming up with nearly nothing, and then in a single meeting that lasts little more than an hour, I come up with more information than I expected to obtain during my entire stay in Italy.

Altopascio market large and colorful, but city has little about Spadoni family

Thursday, April 5

We continue to make pleasant discoveries about the community. Last week Ivo told us about a market in Altopascio that occurs every Thursday morning, and today we make a 20-minute bike ride to try it out.

It is much bigger than we expected, extending for nearly a kilometer in the centro, which is blocked to traffic for the occasion. More than half of the vendors sell colorful clothing and housewares, and we buy a tablecloth and some gifts. We also find a food section, where we buy hot fried potatoes and pastries to eat now and green beans for later. I could say I wish we’d found this market earlier, but it’s also nice that we keep being surprised by discovering new places to go.

We end up at the city office of family records. I came here alone earlier this week to see if they had any records about Francesco and Angelo Spadoni and their families. A nice lady told me she would do some looking for me, and so I drop by to see what she has found. Nothing about either, but they do have some evidence that five of their children lived here, at least briefly. She found some index cards indicating their old addresses and dates of death, but no certificates of marriage or death. Maybe, she says, some of the records were lost during the second war, when Altopascio was heavily bombed.

In any event, this probably indicates that Francesco and Angelo did move to Altopascio when they left Pescia. I could try the church archives, the lady says. I suppose I could also contact some of the Spadonis listed in the Altopascio phone book to see if they are descendants of any of these five children, but my time here is beginning to draw short, and I’m not sure how well received I would be making cold calls on strangers. I still have many other paths to pursue and projects to complete, so I will leave this trail for an another year.

Grand success and even grander hopes

Wednesday, April 04 (continued)

It is still Wednesday, but in some ways, it is like another day. I say this because as of 5 p.m., my fortunes begin to turn regarding my family tree research. I am at the parish archives of Pescia, where I am being helped by Doctor Andrea Mandroni, a local superstar when it comes to genealogy.

Nearly everything I have learned
to date about the Spadoni line has come
from Andrea Mandroni. For anyone
looking to research their roots
from this area, this is your man.

Doctor Mandroni also helped me last year, when he uncovered the name of my great great grandparents, Pellegrino Spadoni and Faustina Tognarelli-Panteri. He then discovered the name of two previous generations, plus many brothers, sisters and spouses of several generations.

He impressed me with his abilities, generosity and patience last year, but I didn’t realize how well-recognized he is for his talents. Officials in city offices in both Pescia and Altopascio recommended I contact him, and I see his name mentioned in a local genealogy book with gratitude expressed for assistance rendered.

So now I am back for more help. And when I say he helps, I mean I sit and watch while he finds and reads documents with lettering in a style so hard to decipher that it looks to be from another alphabet. As he does this, other people—Italians doing their own research—come up to him every few minutes and ask him to read part of a document and tell them what it says. He reads out hand-scribbled names, dates and events as easily as if reading from typewritten documents.

I show him what I have compiled from the research he did last year. I am not sure which direction to move, I say. Should I try to go back further, or follow my great grandmother’s side? Or I could try to follow the descendants of Pellegrino’s brother Gaspero?

This is how the church records look. 

Andrea decides we should dig more deeply into the past. Pellegrino was preceded by Francesco, who was preceded by Lorenzo—all this Andrea discovered last year. Today he finds the birth year of Lorenzo, 1723, and then Lorenzo’s father, Leonardo, and then Leonardo’s father, who was also named Lorenzo.

Then he shows me something that really excites me. He has helped some nearby Spadoni families compile a book with their family trees. We had looked at this book briefly last year, but it didn’t help. Most of the lines in the book began in the 1400s, but they only followed one track to the current era. The other branches were followed for only a few generations, up through the early 1600s, and then the researchers dropped the branch. Probably it was work enough to trace the line of the families who sponsored the research without tracing every possible branch.

Now Andrea points to a branch in the book that stops with a Lorenzo, born in 1628. He points out that this Lorenzo’s father was Leonardo, whose father was another Lorenzo. This follows a familiar Italian pattern of children being named after their grandparents.

We speculate that the oldest Lorenzo in my line may have been born around 1675. That could mean that his father would have been born around 1650, and his grandfather, who may have shared the name Lorenzo, born around 1628— and that would match him with the Lorenzo in the family tree book.

If that’s the case, then my research would take a giant step forward, because many days of study with perhaps a hundred names have already gone into this book. And not only that, but the people who sponsored this book are living around here today, and they share my interest in family history. Possibly I could meet them, I think, and my family tree be added to their work.

Alas, it is 6:30 p.m., closing time, and the potential last link remains undiscovered. The archives will not be open again until next Wednesday, and Andrea says he will expect me then. In just a few hours, my prospects and hopes have improved immensely. I hope my good fortune continues next week.

Some roads closed in family research

Wednesday, April 04

A week ago, I developed some exciting leads in my family tree project, but since then, I have only run into disappointing road blocks.

The records from the 1800s in Pescia said that two of great grandfather Pietro’s brothers had moved from Pescia to Montecarlo, which is also where Pietro moved. This opened up possibilities that their descendants were living near us here and that I could find their records here. But the comune in Montecarlo has no information on brothers Francesco and Angelo. They have Pietro’s records, but this information I already have. I can only assume that these brothers moved instead to a commune near Montecarlo, so I will try looking at Altopascio and maybe Chiesina Uzzanese.

Another disappointment occurs when I see Silvano Celli, the retired bike repairman, at the fruit stand this morning in San Salvatore. I found last week that Pietro’s sister Gioconda married a Cesare Celli, and I think that perhaps Gioconda Spadoni and Cesare may be Silvano’s great grandparents. However, Silvano doesn’t want to talk about it. I start stumbling through my explanation about doing family research, but when I start asking about his family, he says, “Non mi interessa affatto in queste cose.” It is clear that he doesn’t want me asking any more questions, so what can I say? OK, va bene, buon giorno, and that’s the end of that road, at least for now.

I really don’t have the slightest idea why he shut down so quickly. Did I ask incorrectly? Is this too personal a matter to broach at a public market? Is he suspicious of my motives? Is it too much trouble trying to talk to someone who can’t speak Italian well? Or does he just really not like talking about his ancestors?

This plaque in Pescia credits Francesco
Marchi, perhaps a distant relative, with
an efficient and scientific system for
accounting.

Oh, well, I am off to Pescia for some research in a different direction. Since I found so much information in the state archives last week on the family of Pellegrino, maybe I can find the stato di famiglia for the father of Maria Marchi, my great grandmother. Giuseppe Marchi was born in 1799, and stato di famiglia records exist only from 1866 onward, so the chances are slim that I will find anything.

An added problem is that the Marchi family was and is extensive in Pescia. I find three streets, one bridge and a plaque bearing the Marchi name. The current mayor is Roberta Marchi, and there are 26 Marchi families listed in the phone book. The archives have well over 200 index cards with the Marchi name, including about 10 for various Giuseppes. I have left the name of Giuseppe’s wife back in the apartment, so there is no use asking the clerk to show me the books for every Giuseppe, because by 1866 daughter Maria was already married and moved away, and without the name of his spouse, I have no way to recognize the correct Giuseppe even if I found him.

Had I not already recovered such abundant information in other outings, I might be more discouraged now. I really didn’t expect to find as much as I already have, so anything else is really a bonus. And when I do find more, the little frustrations of today will make the rewards of tomorrow seem more satisfying.

-------------------------
Update: Two years later, I wrote "I finally have a talk with cousin Leino"

Italian: A beautiful language of love

Tuesday, April 3

Today it is raining, the first time it has rained in San Salvatore since we arrived a month ago. Well, one day there was a 10-minute downpour, but the rest of the day was sunny. Today is a steady drizzle, with occasional short pauses, kind of like the weather in Gig Harbor for three quarters of the year. This gives me a chance to catch up on my language lessons, reading and writing.

I just read two articles that make me feel good about learning Italian. Language-Learning-Advisor.com took a user survey, asking for opinions on the most beautiful languages. The favorite spoken language is Italian, followed by French and then Spanish. English came in sixth. Naturally, I am in full agreement. To hear the same word, such as the city name Maranello, pronounced in English and then Italian shows a clear difference. The English pronunciation sounds drab, with the sounds coming from the throat. But it sounds almost like singing when an Italian says the word. As I try to imitate the proper pronunciation of Italian words, I find I am using my lip and cheek muscles much more than when I use English pronunciation, and it sounds like the words are coming out of the top of my mouth instead of somewhere around my Adam’s apple.

Lucy and I have a love-hate relationship with Rosetta Stone, the computer program that is the heart of our language-learning curriculum. It has voice recognition software that detects our mispronunciation of Italian words. It doesn’t always work, because it sometimes lets me get away with mistakenly using an a instead of an e, but it is really good about making me pronounce the Italian i, o and u correctly. Foreign language teachers are taught not to be too picky about pronunciation, because if they continually correct their students, the students become too self-conscious and will be afraid to speak at all. Lucy and I know from experience that this is true. The computer is relentless, though. It will not feel sorry for us and let us get away with bad pronunciation so as not to embarrass us, and indeed, there is no public humiliation because the lessons are done in isolation.

That doesn’t mean there is no frustration, however, when I have to repeat the same word three times, and I can’t tell how I said it differently the third time, when the computer finally accepts my pronunciation. Mostly, however, we appreciate that the program is helping us minimize our bad accents, and though the program is expensive, it is actually a bargain when compared to paying for lessons.

One more great thing I read about Italian: London-based Today Translations surveyed its linguists, asking for the most romantic language, as in their favorite language of love. Once again, Italian is at the top of the list. In fact, five of the top six words of love were Italian: amore, bellisima, tesoro, dolcezza and innamorato, although the French word amour did come in number one.

Well, finding this information has inspired me to close out today’s blog entry and cue up my lessons. Lucy has a birthday coming up in a month, so maybe I’ll be advanced enough by that time to write her a love poem in Italian.

Just an ordinary unusual morning

Sunday, April 1

Just another ordinary day in Italy, and by that I mean extraordinary by other standards. As we get off the train in Lucca to go to church, we find the piazza outside the station full of people in costumes, milling around, talking to each other and posing for photos. What is this? We have to stop and ask.

We have stumbled into a convention of the Raduno Cosplayers of Lucca, a group of young adults who have created their own sort of springtime version of Carnevale. The term cosplayers combines the words costume (spelled the same in Italian and English) and play, and the two-day event allows the members to design and show off their favorite costumes from comic books, movies or really almost anything. The event is organized almost entirely online. Members meet, mingle and form a much-photographed procession through Lucca. In the evening, they will meet in another piazza for a choreographed flash mob dance. Costume prizes will be awarded, group photos taken and sword fight and comic book trivia contests held. I can’t guarantee that I got that all 100 percent correct because of my imperfect language skills, but I think I have rendered it accurately. We can’t help but think of Suzye and Lindsey, who also love to dress in costumes. They would definitely feel at home in this group.

When we get to the next piazza, we find another grand procession. Today is Palm Sunday, and the procession includes members of various Catholic churches, holding palm branches, singing and marching behind the priests, who carry a cross with a statue of Jesus. We stop for just a moment, as we have only a couple of minutes to get to our own church service.

After church, we hurry to catch our return train, but Lucy remembers we need to buy orange juice, so we pop into a little storefront shop. Alas, I realize I am out of money, and there is not enough time to go to a bank machine and get back to buy the juice and still catch the train. The lady in the store says we can come back and pay later, though. We have never been in this store before, we are obviously not from Lucca, and yet she does not even bother to take down our names. We say we can’t come back until Friday, and she is fine with that, too. While this event doesn’t match the visual color of the two processions we witnessed this morning, it does provide us with a more personal example of an aspect we love about this country. And all this has taken place in the space of two 15-minute walks to and from the train station.