Church of Later Day Saints is a great source of records for Italy. You can set up to order records and go in to view them during their open hours. To order some records there is a small fee, but it’s amazing the amount of information you can find.
Pictured is the baptismal record for my Great Grandfather. He passed away in 1918 from the flu when my grandmother was only 3 – so she had no memory of him. I can try to translate, but my Italy is non-existent.
I am not able to translate this given that I don’t know Italian. I can make out some information and pick out things that I think it says. Things like that his father is Bernardo Moretto and that it lists godmother and godfather – dates, and that it was in Costallamente.
Stories I remember hearing were that my great grandfather was a small (short) man compared to my great grandmother. He came to the US to Clinton IN a little before my great grandmother and worked in the mines.
He was in the process of applying for citizenship in the US when he died. We don’t know very much information about him or his family. My grandmother’s oldest sibling was a teenager when he passed away, so they may have had more memories of him. Interestedly there are also records showing that my grandmother’s oldest sister Frances was born before my great grandparents got married. Frances came to the US with my great grandmother and two sisters – Mary and Maggie. She passed away in Clinton IN a few years after coming to the US.
I’m not sure what the atmosphere was like for an unwed mother in Italy in the early 1900s, but I assume it can’t have been ideal. I will probably never find out the full story of what happened, but it’s interesting to think of all the possibilities that could exist. My great grandmother was an amazing and strong woman. After coming to the US and having 9 children she lost her husband (while my grandmother – the youngest) was only a couple years old. She then raised the children and supported her family by cleaning houses even through the depression. In a country where they originally didn’t speak the language and had no family to lean on, she lost two children before losing her husband.
It’s funny the things that make you smile from your childhood (this time I’m talking about food). A few of mine revolve around memories of my grandparents. I was recently reminded of my grandfather Richter when I bought a package of Little Debbie Oatmeal cookies. The little Debbie Sandwich cookies that I love and also the crust off of Chicken Pot Pies are two of my favorite things that remind me of him. The final thing is the Concord Grapes (white) that grew out front of his house. – The grapes are pretty impossible to find in seedless. I’ve found them once and savored them. I rarely have pot pies, and almost never by the cookies – but when I do it’s a really special event. Grandpa Richter passed away when I wasn’t even a teenager yet so there aren’t that many memories, but I do remember him sitting at his kitchen table giving me his pot pie crust from those Banquet Chicken Pot Pies. At the time I was such a picky eater that’s all I would eat of the pot pie – and forget the crust that had touched the gooie stuff. 🙂 I do remember cookouts at the pond, but food isn’t what sticks out in my mind from those.
I also can’t pass up Turtles when I get the chance, but they are a memory of my Grandmother Wakeland. She would get Turtles for each of the grandkids each Christmas. I think it started back when the schools would sell Katheryn Brach products as fundraisers. She would buy a tin each year (so would my mother) and we would eat one every few days. I think it’s now a different brand, but my mother has taken on the tradition of getting my brother and I a box of Turtles at each Christmas. I think my kids just view it as a Christmas tradition, but for me it’s a memory of childhood.
I also remember my father making fudge. I’ve never found a similar fudge and my dad doesn’t make it anymore. I think it was the only thing he made and it was a special treat when he made it. It involved him mixing together a mishmash of sugar and ingredients (none of which were measured) and then heating them. He would get a cup of water and drop a little in every so often, until some magic time when it balled in the water. Then he would pour it out on the wax paper. We would cut pieces every so often and have a small treat. (We also got Chocolate bars that would sit on the counter and cut off small pieces every so often as a treat) I’m not that big on Chocolate, but if I ever find that type of fudge (or a recipe) I’m going to make it for my kids. I keep thinking one day I’ll convince my dad to make it for me one more time (and I’ll pay attention this time to the recipe).
Not all my memories from childhood revolve around food, but there are some foods that trigger great memories!
Part of the way I went about finding family still in Italy originally (before facebook) was to write letters to everyone with the same last name. It’s a really small town, so it wasn’t too difficult. I included a Self Addressed Stamped Envelope to make it easier. I sent the letter in Italian – not knowing if they would speak English. Of course I don’t speak Italian, so Google Translate came in very handy.
I sent:
Ciao,
Il mio nome e’ Karla Andrew. Abito a Bowling Green, Kentucky STATI UNITI. Mio bisnonne si chiamavano Caterina Maria Negi, e’ nato a Locana ed emigrato negli Stati Uniti nel 1905. Vorrei mettermi in contatto con qualche mio parente ancora residente a Locana.
Non saprei dire se sono imparentato con qualcuno che port ail cognomen Negri residente a Locana. Mi rivolgo a chiunque porti il cognomen Negri ed abbia lo stesso nome di battesimo di mio bisnonne. Mio bisnonne e’ nato il 17 Nov 1874.
Qualora Lei ritenga che possiamo essere imparentati, Le sarei grato se vorra rispondere a questa lettera. Nel caso, invece, che fosse dell’avviso che non fossimo imparentati ma dovesse conoscere qualcuno che si chiama Negri che possa essere imparentato con me Le sarei grato se vorra’ consegnare questa lettera a quella persona.
Voglia gradire I miei sinceri saluti.
I included a list of people and dates that I did know at the bottom. I was excited to receive a couple responses! Of course they weren’t in english though, so one of the things I learned is that translating script in another language is really tough.
The responses were pretty exciting though!
Locana Italy is a small comune (City) in the north part of the country. Locana is located in the moutains. This sign shows distances to nearby towns as well as you can see a Welcome to Locana sign in the background. The second picture is a picture of the town of Locana. There is a group on facebook dedicated to ancestors of families from Locana. I was pretty excited when I found it!
My grandmother didn’t remember many stories about Locana but my Aunt Kate told a couple… of course it was many years ago and I wasn’t even a teenager yet. My g-grandfather passed away when my grandmother was three so my g-grandmother had no one to share stories with and reminisce about Locana. Life was tough and my mother thought my g-grandmother was always afraid she would be made to go back to Italy if she was found out. My g-grandfather was in the process of applying for citizenship when he died of the flu in 1918. My g-grandmother didn’t go on to get citizenship until the early 60s I think.
My Aunt Kate always said that my g-grandmother’s family lived above a cow barn. The cows were used to keep the home warm as heat rises. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like to grow up above a herd of cows, but I assume you get used to it over time.
Another story I remember is about a beggar that showed up to their door each day. My Aunt said that my G-g- grandmother would give scraps to the beggar each day when he would come begging at the door. One day a dog came to the door instead of the beggar and my ancestor through leftover hot coffee instead out and burnt the face of the dog. The next day the beggar was back but with a burn on his face.
Finally there was a story about a chick in the cemetery next to their home. The chick was on a grave, and when they returned there were several chicks (that story I’m much more hazy on.) I wish at the time I had used a tape recorder to capture the stories. Now I’m relying on my faulty memory.
