Maddaloni

Observations:

Well, this is really more of a fact than an observation.  We learned from Peppino that between the years of something like 1860 and 1920, 8 million Italian people immigrated to America from Italy!  Often while speaking to an Italian native they would ask us where we were from.  We would say US.  They would ask where in the US.  If we said Minnesota, they would say “Ah, okay.”  If we said New Jersey, they would say, “My brother/sister/cousin/brother’s sister’s cousin lives in New Jersey!”  That’s where all those 8 million people went!

All four of my grandparents were born in Maddaloni, a town about ½ an hour west of Naples.  Our desire to see Maddaloni was great.  Otherwise, believe me, we would not have ventured to drive out of and then necessarily back into Naples again.

I said town, but upon seeing it I would say Maddaloni is more of a small city.

'Welcome to Maddaloni' sign

A couple of the main streets:

Every town we visited shared some characteristics – bakeries boasting delectable desserts and breads in the windows, superior produce on the sidewalks, and older men hanging around smoking, reading and talking.  Maddaloni rang supreme in this last category.

A gentlemen's club; the guys inside are playing cards; we saw this a lot in many towns

I loved these two guys - they were babysitting

Even here, in a significantly more populated area than Teora, we were noticed.  (Maybe because of me and my camera – ya think?)

The old towers that are featured on the welcome sign:

The train station:

And fountain:

We meandered into a church.  Chris noticed that each pew had a dedication plaque on it, and he looked at each one in the hopes of seeing a familiar family name.  No luck:

We walked into a second church, mainly because they are all so beautiful inside. This church had chairs with plaques on them:

While I ogled at the church, Chris began searching again.  Bingo!  He saw a familiar name.  Santo – my maternal grandmother’s maiden name!  That got my attention.  We both started looking, and lo and behold, we saw lots of familiar names!  Who knows if these are the names of any blood relatives, but seeing the familiar family names was thrilling.

Santo

Merola - my paternal grandmother's maiden name

Santangelo

 Gazzillo - maybe changed upon arrival in America to Garzillo?



Santo

Merola

Interesting that this church had so many familiar names, and the first church we went into had none.  The two churches are only a couple of blocks from each other.

The town hall would not have been open the day we went to Maddaloni as it was the weekend.  And we didn't know any ex-mayors.  But Chris had another idea.  Maybe we would see some family names in the local cemetery.  We found it easily enough, just outside the city.  And there, in just the small section of this huge cemetery that we looked at, so many familiar names of people we know and love.

Mastroianni - This is the way my father's name (and my maiden name) were spelled prior to America (like the actor, Marcello Mastroianni who starred in a movie with Sophia Loren; we are related to him, I'm told)

My maternal grandfather's name was Soletto.  This could also be a revised American version of Sollitto.

Merola (there were LOTS of Merolas)

And there were LOTS of Santos

Santangelo

Francischetti

Gazzillo

Festante

DiPace

While on the outskirts of the city, we really didn’t see much.  A few farms, but not really any houses.  Not even farm houses.  I wondered where my grandparents would have lived.  We drove back into Maddaloni and found an older part of the city.  It seems likely to me that this is where they lived and worked, or from where they set out to work in the fields.

The older section of Maddaloni:

Being in the town where my grandparents were born, where their parents and their parents likely grew up, evoked in me an unexpected surge of emotion.  I found it both astounding and somehow comforting to think that I was walking on streets they walked on, and looking at sights they looked at.  In some of the faces we saw, maybe I was seeing a blood relative.  I’m so thankful to have had the opportunity to be there.

Santangelo's barber shop

Funny Picture of the Day:

 On the way out, I couldn’t resist a lemon sorbetto.  I mean, it was right there, and when will I ever get it again?