If it wasn't for the genealogical research I commenced two years ago, my paternal grandparents' wedding anniversary centennial, September 2, 2017, might have slipped by unnoticed. That research revealed other things: my grandfather emigrated from Sicily in 1910 at the age of 18. My grandmother followed in 1916 at the age of 19. My grandmother's entire family emigrated, including her mother. But, what fills me with a sense of vicarious sadness is that my grandfather left his parents, two sisters and four brothers in Sicily. He passed away in 1977 and in those intervening sixty-seven years in America, he never again saw or spoke to any member of his immediate family. I can remember his sadness in the early fifties when the family received a letter that his mother had passed away in Sicily.
Another fascinating item I discovered was that each of the ships that carried my grandparents to America was subsequently torpedoed and sunk during World War I, one by the British, the other by the Germans.
My illiterate grandfather found employment as a construction worker, which he did his entire life. He had the strength of two men until he was buried in a cave-in on a municipal sewer project, suffering slurred speech and compromised fine motor skills the rest of his life. Below is a picture of my grandfather's 25-pound sledgehammer with a normal 14-pounder shown for comparison. To swing it, hold your legs apart, first swing the hammer to the rear and through your legs, then, working with the hammer's pendulum affect, as the hammer swings forward, use its momentum to raise the hammer high over your head, then, swing it down. Flex your knees so the massive hammer hits the concrete as vertically as possible. Swing it like an ax and you'll burn out in four swings. A four-foot square flag of concrete sidewalk would usually multiple-fracture to the edges from a single blow to its center. And, I'm only of average strength.
My grandmother, like most Italian women immigrants, worked as a seamstress in a sweatshop her entire life. She was the family matriarch, heart, soul and glue of the family. Together, my grandparents produced eight children, two of whom died in early childhood. The last of their remaining six children passed away in 2016. Amazingly, they raised their children through the depression and somehow managed to keep them fed at a time when welfare and food stamps were non-existent, overt discrimination against Italian immigrants was rampant and the Black Hand, forerunner of the mafia, savaged their own people.
From the content of many posts here in the forum, there's little doubt that grandparents hold a special place in our hearts. I wanted to share with you a short account of two anonymous immigrants who were my grandparents and who realized the American dream for themselves and their many descendants. My uncle's passing, last year, leaves me the oldest surviving member of the family. We are a total of thirteen first cousins and I proudly call myself the first, first cousin on our private Facebook page.
I visited their grave for their wedding anniversary centennial and I had previously taken it upon myself to locate and visit the graves of their two infant daughters who both died in 1925. It's my way of honoring my grandparents' memory.
Another fascinating item I discovered was that each of the ships that carried my grandparents to America was subsequently torpedoed and sunk during World War I, one by the British, the other by the Germans.
My illiterate grandfather found employment as a construction worker, which he did his entire life. He had the strength of two men until he was buried in a cave-in on a municipal sewer project, suffering slurred speech and compromised fine motor skills the rest of his life. Below is a picture of my grandfather's 25-pound sledgehammer with a normal 14-pounder shown for comparison. To swing it, hold your legs apart, first swing the hammer to the rear and through your legs, then, working with the hammer's pendulum affect, as the hammer swings forward, use its momentum to raise the hammer high over your head, then, swing it down. Flex your knees so the massive hammer hits the concrete as vertically as possible. Swing it like an ax and you'll burn out in four swings. A four-foot square flag of concrete sidewalk would usually multiple-fracture to the edges from a single blow to its center. And, I'm only of average strength.
My grandmother, like most Italian women immigrants, worked as a seamstress in a sweatshop her entire life. She was the family matriarch, heart, soul and glue of the family. Together, my grandparents produced eight children, two of whom died in early childhood. The last of their remaining six children passed away in 2016. Amazingly, they raised their children through the depression and somehow managed to keep them fed at a time when welfare and food stamps were non-existent, overt discrimination against Italian immigrants was rampant and the Black Hand, forerunner of the mafia, savaged their own people.
From the content of many posts here in the forum, there's little doubt that grandparents hold a special place in our hearts. I wanted to share with you a short account of two anonymous immigrants who were my grandparents and who realized the American dream for themselves and their many descendants. My uncle's passing, last year, leaves me the oldest surviving member of the family. We are a total of thirteen first cousins and I proudly call myself the first, first cousin on our private Facebook page.
I visited their grave for their wedding anniversary centennial and I had previously taken it upon myself to locate and visit the graves of their two infant daughters who both died in 1925. It's my way of honoring my grandparents' memory.
