Climbing the Family Tree

Plodding through blurry, often illegible World War II draft records, I discovered verifiable evidence of the birthplace of my paternal grandfather, Antonino. His hometown was not Cinisi, as Dad often told me, but Balestrate, in the Province of Palermo, Sicily. I quickly found there’s only so much you can do using computerized services here in the States to seek information about distant relatives from the Old Country. And because of that, I realized I had to “go out on a limb”(sorry) and advance my research along this “branch”(I did it again) of the family tree.

My wheels turned. Go to the source, I decided. Travel to Nonno’s homeland and explore right there from ground zero. Makes sense, right? But, nothing could have prepared me for the adventure I had in store in la terra dei miei padri (the land of my fathers.)

I did all the requisite preparations: available dates, airline ticket, car rental, and lodgings for a month. I found a beautiful two bedroom apartment right in Balestrate walking distance from the Tyrrhenian Sea. Forwarding the deposit for the apartment, I emailed the landlady, Rosalia with a few questions. She answered with an assumption my trip was for leisure. I wrote back my prime purpose was the discovery of my ancestral roots. In response, she explained that she has good friends who work in public records and asked me for basic information about my grandfather. She said she’d gladly help in my quest. She even offered to pick up my rental car and meet me at the airport! I should add here that my Italian is probably 3rd grade level and I’m traveling to a country whose language is Sicilian; not the same! In other words, it seemed I would now have a friend in my corner.

The flight and connection at Heathrow went off without a hitch. Tired and grateful, I landed at Falcone-Borsellino airport in Palermo (named after two anti-mafia judges murdered in 1992.) After customs and luggage pickup, Rosalia and her lovely daughter, Martina greeted me with the traditional double-cheek kiss. As we talked and walked through the airport I was thrilled to be in the country my grandfather left over 100 years ago. Savoring that feeling, we strolled into a glorious Sicilian sunset.

Well rested and acclimating to my new surroundings, I imagined what it was like walking the same streets my grandfather had walked as a boy in the early 1880’s. It seems, as with most small coastal towns in Sicily, Balestrate relies on deep rooted cultural convictions of her natives, each holding to time-tested traditions. The Sicilians I met there were not really unkind to strangers, but not excessively sociable either. Until, that is, you are introduced by a fellow Sicilian. At this point, eyes widen, smiles broaden and double-cheek kissing ensues.

Having done most of the relevant research before I left home, I discovered the origin of the town’s name. When the city of Balestrate was first established, explorers stood on the pristine beach of Sicily’s northwestern shore and fired a bolt from an Italian crossbow, called a balestra. Wherever that bolt landed “il centro”, the center of town would be established(or so the legend goes.)

After a few enjoyable days there, Rosalia agreed to set up a time to bring me to her friends at public records. I had absolutely no idea what to expect. When we arrived mid-morning at a dimly lit office on a narrow side street, I was introduced to one of Rosalia’s friends. After the exchange of pleasantries , Rosalia gave her friend the synopsis of information we did know about Grampa. A glance around the office gave no sign of the existence of any technology whatever (aside from a 50-year-old IBM Selectric typewriter sitting in the corner). I guess I’m spoiled by 21st Century gadgetry at my fingertips, and evidently my concern planted itself firmly on my face. Rosalia’s friend gave me a reassuring look, as if to say “believe it or not, we do know what we’re doing.” Boy, was she right. Now, the real fun began. Other ladies in the office joined the hunt. The small office became a frenzy of ladies exiting and re-entering, carrying large books to the table where we were gathered. Apparently, each lady had her own way of dissecting and scrutinizing the archives. Moreover, each was willing to voice fortissimo her method to the others. My one regret was I left my digital recorder back at the apartment. These simultaneous conversations, accented with inaudible hand gestures, would have been captured for the ages. After the dust settled, the table was strewn with 13 books, each pivotal in our quest. My grandfather’s birth certificate was there. Surprisingly, even my father’s birth records were present. His entire life Dad told me he was born in America. Well, it looks like I’m first generation American. Surprise! Even the wedding certificate of my great-grandparents was now placed before me. Wait. It gets better. My grandfather had a brother and sister that never left Sicily, and none of my nearest relatives even knew they existed. We researched the two separate “branches” of the family tree while we were still there. Rosalia, God bless her, sat busily drawing a rough chart, trying to if see if my relations were still alive and where they lived. The amazing result: I had 12 “cousins” still living in and around Balestrate. I say “cousins,” but this wasn’t the time to unravel the particular permutations of those relationships. Suffice it to say, we were blood. I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome. All the ladies appeared to be truly glad to have helped me. We thanked them, hugged and did the double-smooch thing. Rosalia and I left the three-hour adventure exhausted.

Happily, before I left Sicily, I met, photographed, hugged and kissed each of my “new” Old World family. This excursion remains, undeniably, one of the highest points of my life. Computerized genealogy services are great, I’m sure. I realize they can give people a lot of fantastic results. That said, if you ever have the resources to try this type of ancestral exploration, DO IT! The time, effort and capital may be considerable but the rewards are well beyond anything you can imagine. Buona Fortuna!