A few years ago I wrote my childhood memories to honor my beloved paternal
grandpa. I wrote about his story, his house where I spent part of my childhood,
and the history of our ancestors.
Grandpa and our ancestors lived in quartiere di bel vidiri (il
Belvedere), a complex of family houses where the Muscara’ dwelled since at
least 1567. Il Belvedere means that it
is an area from where one can see picturesque, magnificent panoramas. One of
the far off vistas from this location is the Tyrrhenian Sea and the Aeolian
Islands.
(Il Magnifico Pietro Muscara’ is my first ancestor who lived in the ancient
town of Librizzi. I found this information in the oldest documents available
for me to read, the 1584 and the 1594 Census Records.)
Grandpa horses were housed in this area as indicated by the horseshoe.
This is a cortile where the horses could enjoy the sunshine.
This is the street entrance to the covered area where the horses were
kept. There used to be a beautiful wrought iron gate here with the family crest
as part of the decorations.
Today, the house where grandpa spent his last days, and the rest of the nearby
houses stand deserted, lonely, and abandoned. The only sounds heard are the
memories of past generations clamoring to be heard so that they may tell us
that once there was laughter, joy, and life residing within those crumbling
walls.
Yes, the once vibrant, proud, and beautiful house is now decayed and colorless.
The walls have fallen prey to the passage of time and to the relentless beating
of the Sicilian elements. Weeds and vines are growing from the shivering walls,
lording over the moribund building, triumphant in their conquest. The doors are
open uncaring about the decay within, there is no pity for the lament of
ancestors.
The above is one of the many balconies that used to adorn grandpa’s
house.
Broken windows, crumbling stonework, pebbles disgorged from the eroded
walls, fragments of memories.
Memories, stoically enduring the road to oblivion.
Ed e’ subito sera.
Ognuno sta
solo sul cuor della terra
trafitto da un raggio di sole:
ed è subito sera.
Everyone stands alone at the heart of the world
pierced by a ray of sunlight,
and suddenly it is evening.
Salvatore Quasimodo (1901-1968), born in Sicily, poet, Nobel Prize Winner
All photos except the last one were taken by Melo Rifici
I have had a lifelong interest in angels, they fascinate me, and they make me happy. I do not mean the spiritual presence of Angels but the iconography of angels, statues, paintings, Christmas ornaments that feature angels, anything with the form of angels. Do I worship Angels? Not really. I just like the idea of angels, and man’s interpretations of what an angel looks like.
How did this interest in angels begin? I grew up in an area of Italy that reveres the Archangel Michael. Many churches in Sicily feature a beautiful statue of the Archangel Michael, the patron Saint of many cities and towns is the Archangel Michael, and there are many feasts and celebrations in honor of the Archangel Michael. The town of Librizzi is one of many that have a special reverence for San Michele Archangelo.
Photo by Maria Muscara'
The Chiesa Matrice, located at the highest point of Librizzi is dedicated to San Michele Arcangelo and it is in this church where the beautiful statue of the Archangel is kept. The statue sculpted from wood, has a historical story associated with it. Interestingly the story connects the statue with my ancestors, particularly with Don Rocco Muscara’ and il dott. Pietro Muscara’. Perhaps my interest in angels was born in the lives of my ancestors and passed on to me through generations of ‘angels loving genes’.
The following is a synopsis of the story associated with the statue of San Michele:
Photo by Carmelo Rifici
In 1654 the Reverend Father Claudio di Todaro from Librizzi decided to commission from Naples a statue of San Michele Arcangelo, the protector of the town. It took a year to complete the statue and finally in 1656 the statue was transported to Messina. Unfortunately the plague was raging in Naples and the captain of the ship that carried the statue was ordered to burn all of its contents including silks, precious fabrics, money, and the statue. The captain fought to have the statue quarantined together with himself and all of the sailors. The Senators of Messina and the Public Health Officials, having seen the beauty of the statue, agreed to a quarantine of three months.
At the end of the quarantine Father Claudio gave permission to the Senate of Messina to have the statue displayed at a church in Messina and then it was to be brought to the rightful church in Librizzi. The 24th of September of 1656 a huge number of people went to see the statue and having seen its beauty petitioned the Senate to keep the statue in Messina and never allow it to leave Messina. The next day Father Claudio found out of the plan and for three days begged the Senate to allow the statue to be brought to the rightful owner, the town of Librizzi. Other important people also requested that the statue be allowed to leave Messina. The Senate refused to do so and Father Claudio was about to give up when he made one last effort. Finally the Senate decided to allow the statue to leave Messina and ordered the Messinesi not to interfere with the transport of the statue. Finally the statue arrived at the port of Patti and from there it was transported to Librizzi and placed in the church of a Convent.
That same evening, after the Angelus was completed, the townspeople “displaying great devotion”arrived at the Convent to greet the statue. The same night the Archpriest Don Rocco Muscara’ and the town’s officials, ordered bonfires to be lit throughout the town, fireworks were set off, drums were played, etc. The welcoming celebration was continued the following Sunday (October First), with a procession which included all of the officials of the town, religious groups, and the townspeople. The statue was carried to her permanent location in the Chiesa Matrice and placed on the altar. A Mass was sung by il dott. Pietro Mucara’, and Father Claudio gave a laudatory sermon in honor of San Michele. Finally San Michele Archangelo was declared the Patron Saint of Librizzi. (The document from which this information was obtained is found in the parochial archives of Librizzi. The whole document is cited in the book “Librizzi” by Antonino D’Amico)
Photos by Carmelo Rifici
The story of the statue continues, after 345 years the statue of San Michele Arcangelo has returned to Messina to be part of an exhibit titled ‘Angeli Senza Tempo’! It arrived in Messina in December and will remain there until the end of the exhibit (January 23, 2011). Let’s hope that the Messinesi will not try to ‘kidnap’ the beautiful statue once again!
ANGELI SENZA TEMPO
The exhibit ‘Angeli senza tempo’ covers the period from the XVI to the XX century. The 34 works of art shown in the exhibit, demonstrate the role of Angels in sacred representations. Included are guardian angels, revelatory angels, warrior angels, spiritual angels, musical angels, adoring angels, cherubs and putti angels. The exhibit includes paintings, sculptures, cloth and silver artifacts. The works of art are set up to show the progression of artistic interpretation of angels, from the ethereal angels to the humanized physical form.
The statue of the Librizzi Archangel is sculpted from wood, painted, and gold plated. It is a winged angel holding a sword. (An Archangel is an Angel of high rank.)
Photo by Carmelo Rifici
On the 8th of January a large delegation of Librizzesi went to see the exhibit and to visit their beloved San Michele.
Experiences from the years that I lived on Iola Street in Dorchester, Massachusetts:
Maria on the left, beautiful mom on the right, and a young cousin.
Photo taken in September of 1954
The years lived on Iola Street were the years when I attended Oliver Wendell Holmes Junior High and then Jeremiah E. Burke High, in Dorchester, MA. My first year in public school was a successful one academically and so-so socially. Right from the beginning at Wendell Holmes I obtained good grades, in fact that first year I had all A’s and one B. I was honored at a school assembly and it was announced how ‘this little girl who had just learned the language’ was obtaining such good grades. I went home with my report card and told my parents of the assembly and my recognition. My father looked at the report card and yelled at me for not receiving all A’s! I knew then for sure that no matter what I did, I would never do good enough to meet his expectations.
My teachers loved me and respected me, in particular I remember my math teacher who used to use me as a good example to the rest of the class (or course that did not gain me any friends), and my art teacher who was impressed with my work. My art teacher liked my pen and ink renditions and without my knowledge she assembled a portfolio of my work and sent it to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts for consideration for their art program for high school students. I was asked by the museum to take their test to compete for a spot in their program. I was accepted. The next year I was in High School and that is when I began my four years stint at the Museum. Two days a week I was given permission to leave my regular classes at noon in order to travel to the Museum and continue classes there. Actually I took classes at the Museum for only three years because students in their senior year were allowed to leave school early to go to work. My father decided that the family needed money more than I needed art classes.
While in Junior High in addition to the art scholarship I earned the bronze medal (third place) from the Commonwealth of Massachusetts for my artistic poster entered by my art teacher in a ‘Be Kind to Animals Poster Competition’ sponsored by Massachusetts. I still have my treasured bronze medal.
I am forever grateful to those two Junior High teachers who saw me in a positive way and helped me maintain a sense of self worth. The art teacher in particular started me on a path that has enriched my life through art endeavors and the appreciation of art. Two interests that have helped me maintain my sanity.
Right from the start at the Oliver Wendell School, I was involved with school activities especially work with the Red Cross group. At some point I was asked to be the chairperson for one of the girls who was running for a position on the Student Council, her first name was Carol. Brilliant me! I came up with the slogan “Vote for Carol she is a barrel”! Remember that my knowledge of the English language was very limited and I did not know the nuances of the language. I knew that the slogan rhymed and that was enough for me. I made lots of posters with a drawing of a barrel and the slogan, and then I posted them all over the school. I am not a hundred percent sure but I think Carol won.
Let’s go back a little to my first day at OWH, it was the school year 1954-1955. I was frightened and lost that first day. At lunch time I bought my preferred lunch, a Devil Dog and a carton of chocolate milk. Carrying my tray I looked around for an empty spot at any of the cafeteria tables but not one face sitting at those tables seemed friendly. In fact when I approached a couple of tables, I was rudely told to go sit elsewhere. In desperation and humiliation, I looked harder for a spot and saw one at the ‘segregated’ table where only black faces were seen. I headed for that table and asked if I could sit with them. The girls were friendly enough and reluctantly allowed me to sit with them. They did ask me if I really wanted to sit with them and showed a sense of concern for me, a concern that I did not understand until months later when I started to learn about racial discrimination in the USA. Sitting at this table was Hilda H., a very nice person who soon became my friend.
Little by little I started to make friends but not with the in crowd, most of my friends were girls who were somewhat of outcasts or rejected for one reason or another. There was Esther N. who limped and somehow did not fit in. I later learned that she was a Jew who had been in a concentration camp as a baby where she had contracted TB of the bone, hence the limp. Esther and her family became my friends and they remained family friends until we lost contact in the late 1970s. Another friend was a girl whose name I do not recall but was avoided at all costs by the other classmates. She was from a very poor family and the school ‘knew’ that she had lice. Well she did, and she gave them to me. In any event I befriended her. Since I was a child and living in Librizzi, I always felt for those classmates who were ‘outcasts’ and always befriended them, even if I also was rejected because I was friends with those who were considered of a ‘lower class’. Another friend at the junior high was Sherrie N. Sherri was a little older and very mature acting. Sherri and Esther continued to be my friends during our High School years. I will write more about these two friends later.
The one girl that I greatly admired was an older looking girl, tall, blond, well developed, and wore lots of make-up. I thought that she was the epitome of the American girl and I wanted to be just like her. One day I came to school wearing tons of eye make-up and loud lipstick, I really felt very American. This older looking girl took me aside and asked me to wipe off all of that make-up. Surprised a said that I wanted to look like her and why couldn’t I wear the make-up and she could. She looked at me and somehow she tried to tell me that she was a ‘tramp’ and that I was not! Of course I did not know the word tramp at the time nor would have I known the implications of the word until much later in my life. Yes I did wipe off the make-up. It was many years before I realized what a true friend this young person was to me, and what courage it must have taken for her to say those horrible words about herself. I do not know what happened to her but I hope that life has treated her well.
While at OWH well meaning people started my ‘Americanization’. My name was no longer Maria but Mary, no it was not my choice but this is what my teachers called me. My last name lost the accent, once again not because it was my choice but because others decided this for me. So my centuries-old honored name of Muscarà became Muscara or as the kids pointed out I was Maybelline black mascara. Yes, the pronunciation of the last name also was changed, no accented last syllable and the u was now pronounced as an A and not as a U. While at the Junior High I accepted the name Mary by the time that I got to high school I felt lots of resentment. More than resentment, I felt uncomfortable since Mary just wasn’t me! The first few times that the homeroom teacher called me Mary I responded but one day I did not respond to the morning attendance call. The teacher looked at me and asked why I did not say ‘here’ when she called my name. I looked at her with a perplexed look and informed her that my name was Maria. From that day on I regained my identity, at least for my given name. Recently I looked at my junior high school graduation certificate and sure enough, my name written on it is Mary and no accent on the surname. The high school diploma correctly gives my name as Maria but no accent on my surname. Partial victory in my effort to keep my identity intact!
As I said, Hilda H. and I became friends. She was sweet and kind and I believe that she thought the same about me. We considered each other ‘dear friends’ according to the comments on our class graduation photo. Several times during the first year of our friendship, Hilda was invited to my house for lunch and I to hers. We lived within walking distance. Our friendship grew despite the fact that I had never seen or heard of a black person until a few days before I left Italy for the USA. The first black person that I ever saw was a male walking the streets of Palermo when we went there to pick up our AMERICAN passports at the American Embassy. Since I did not know about a black race I had no prejudices built in me, and I had no idea of slavery in the USA, nor about the Civil War. I knew nothing of the conflicts between North and South. I knew nothing about the fact that history was being made at that very moment, and that the years of 1954 and 1955 were the beginning of the modern Civil Rights Movement. Some of the milestones created in those two years were the Brown v Board of Education of Topeka, Kansas; the killing of Emett Till; Rosa Parks refusing to give up her seat; etc.
There were some good movies being shown at the theaters in those two important years and Hilder and I decided to go see a movie together. We started out from my family’s apartment off Talbot Street, a major road at the time, with the intent to walk the mile or two needed to reach the theater. Soon enough we were confronted by jeering people, young and old. These people yelled profanities at us, nasty racial comments that I did not understand at the time, epithets, they spat on us, and they did their best to make us cower from fear. I was bewildered, I had no idea what was going on but Hilder knew. She tried to talk me into going back home but I insisted that we go to the movies. I guess those Librizzi Red Ants genes made their appearance and I was not going to give in to bullying, even if I could not understand the why and what was happening. Once again, it was a few years later when I began to unravel the events of that day and to this day I cannot understand how and why there was so much prejudice in a northern state that fought against the south in the Civil War. I know the realities of North and South and the myths, and I know about prejudices and human beings regardless the geography. But I still do not understand.
What movie did we see that day? Who knows? It is all an unnerving blur. Records show that some of the popular movies at the time were Rebel Without a Cause, East of Eden, The Seven Year Itch, Guys and Dolls, Helen of Troy. As I write this a memory is making an appearance, I see a beautiful actress on a horse with blond tresses wrapped around her head. I remember how much I coveted those tresses. Was she Helen of Troy? In my memory the horse is flying across a meadow and I wonder if while I watched the horse gallop across the screen I wished that I were free and happy as that horse seemed to be. Perhaps I wanted to escape my unhappy reality full of rejection and humiliations.
The above account is an excerpt from my "Remembrances", an ongoing collection of my memories and experiences of life in Librizzi and the USA.
" Numquam est tam male Siculis, qui aliquis facete et commode dicant......".
GIUSEPPE MUSCARA’
My grandfather Giuseppe Muscarà was born January 2, 1874 at 3 in the afternoon; his parents were Don Gaetano Muscarà and Donna Angela Natoli. The witnesses for the birth were Pasquale Fuso, contadino age 34, and Michele Salpietro (son of Felice), age 53 contadino. The mayor at that time was Fortunato Gugliotta. The official documents that I read categorize Giuseppe, Angela, and Gaetano as Industrioso or Civile, this terminology indicated that they were part of the upper class (the social classifications were clearly stated in all official documents). The family, at the time of grandpa’s birth, lived in the neighborhood of Librizzi called Porta Patti.
Great grandpa don Gaetano Muscarà, died when his son was only three years old. After Gaetano's death, great grandma Angela married don Giovanni Muscarà, brother of Gaetano.
Grandpa Giuseppe, known as don Pippinu, married Catena (Maria) Rottino, daughter of Filippo Rottino and donna Teresa Marziano. The Banns of marriage for Giuseppe and Catena were posted March 21, 1896. The witnesses for the Banns were Giuseppe Capitti, age 29, and Giuseppe Palino, age 27, calzolaio. Grandpa and grandma were married on March 22, 1896. Once again the witnesses for the wedding were Giuseppe Capitti and Giuseppe Palino.
Maria Catena Rottino, age 68 or 69
My grandparents had the following children:
1. Antonino Muscarà. My father was named for his paternal great grandpa don Antonino Marziano.
2. Giovanni Salvatore Natalino Muscarà.
3. Filippo Muscarà. He was named for his maternal grandfather.
4. Gaetano Muscarà. He was named for his grandfather.
5. Angela Muscarà. Angela was named for her grandma donna Angela Natoli.
6. Francesco (Ciccino) Muscarà. He was named for his great grandfather Francesco Muscarà.
7. Teresa Muscarà. She was named for her maternal grandma donna Teresa Marziano.
8. Eufrasina (Frasina) Muscarà. She was a redhead just like grandpa.
9. Carmela Muscarà. She was named for grandpa’s sister.
Grandpa had a brother and a sister. I was unaware that he had any siblings until a few years ago when I started to research my family tree. I left Italy when I was very young and, to my recollection, I was not aware that he had siblings. Grandpa’s sister was Carmela Muscarà, she was born on September 21, 1871 and died on September 29, 1883. At the time of her death Carmela was only 13 years old. Grandpa named his first daughter Carmela in remembrance of his sister. His brother was Francesco Muscarà, born in 1877. He married Anna Finocchiaro in 1907.
Giuseppe Muscarà was a descendant of Greeks colonists, a Siceliot (Siceliot refers to Greek Colonists of Sicily and their descendants). I base the conclusion that the Muscarà name is of Siceliot origin on the results of my research on the history of Librizzi, the consistent naming of family members with names of Greek origin, and the fact that the surname Muscarà is derived from a Greek word meaning “owners of calves”. Through the Census records, I have been able to establish a direct Muscarà ancestry starting with the early 1400s. The records show that the Muscarà owned large estates of land and homes, in the areas of Librizzi called Feu, Spinello, Fossa, Pantano, Pianoforno, Vallone Vina, Nasidi, etc. The documents also record age, sex, occupations, honorary titles and educational titles of the people living in the household of the person declaring the Census information. The documents are signed by the head of the household if he or she could write and also by the census taker. If the declarant could not write, that information was annotated as well. All of the Muscarà documents are signed by the head of the household. Most of the male Muscarà were referred to as Dottore. In the early centuries the title of Doctor did not mean medical doctor but doctor of philosophy, law, etc.
First page of a Census record of one of my ancestors il Dottor Gianmatteo Muscarà
Last page of the same document signed by il Dottor Gianmatteo Muscarà
The estate at the Feu is located in the area of the Colla (Codda), it abuts the river Timeto. When I was a child, the Feu (Sicilian for fiefdom) was one of the places that I often visited with grandpa. He used to go to the Feu to talk with the overseer of the Feu and to visit with the people who formerly were tenant farmers on his estate. They were descendants of serfs and later tenant farmers who for centuries had been part of the Muscarà estates. In the 1940s the former Muscarà tenants still lived in the same ancestral homes on grandpa's land, even though the tenants no longer were part of the Feu. My great grandfather and my grandfather felt a responsibility toward these people and allowed them to live rent free (as far as I know) in their usual homes.
River Timeto
Photo by Carmelo Rifici
In early 1800s the Sicilian Parliament outlawed feudal privileges, and by the end of the Risorgimento, the War for the Unification of Italy, former feudal lands were arbitrarily confiscated. When Garibaldi and his Redshirts (also known as the Thousand Men), predominantly Piemontese, landed in Sicily, Garibaldi actively recruited Sicilian volunteers to fight for his cause. He did this by appealing to the peasants, promising them the division of large estates and giving them “free land” if they joined the fight. In addition if they died their family would get the promised “free land”. At the same time Garibaldi was giving ‘assurances’ to the landowners that their estates would not be broken up if they supported his cause. It was a time when Sicilians wanted to get rid of the Bourbon regime and Garibaldi also promised to free the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies from the Bourbon State of Naples and Sicily.
The Bourbons were driven out but now Sicily was controlled by the Piemontese government. The new regime confiscated the National Bank (and five million ducats from the Palermo mint) whose assets dwarfed those of Piedmont. Most of the landholdings by the Church were confiscated by the new government, and with them numerous schools which were then closed. Most Sicilian schools had been administered by the monastic orders and were not substituted by state institutions. This meant that illiteracy became widespread with the poorer class. The promise made to the large landowners was not kept and large tracts of land were confiscated and parceled out to the peasants. Many peasants immediately sold the free land for paltry sums to a new moneyed middle class, but now they did not have a padrone to give them work and protect them. So the poor got poorer and the landowners were impoverished.
The societal changes in Sicily brought about by the War for the Unification of Italy are very well described by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa in his novel Il Gattopardo, The Leopard in English. The 1963 film The Leopard directed by Luchino Visconti and featuring Burt Lancaster, Claudia Cardinale and Alain Delon is based on Lampedusa’s novel. The novel is an accurate account of what happened historically and it reflects pretty much my family’s story.
The Muscarà family was tremendously affected by the land reforms of 1812 and especially by the confiscation of land during and after the Risorgimento. My family lost huge tracts of land at the Feu, nearby Spinello, at the Fossa, at the Pantano, etc., land that had belonged to the Muscarà for centuries. The Riveli di Bene e di Anime (Census records) clearly show that the Feu had been in the family at least from the early ,1500s hundreds. In addition to the Feu other locations for the Muscarà land and houses are mentioned in the earliest available Census records, not only in other sections of Librizzi but also in the towns of Montagnareale, Patti, Nohara (today’s Novara di Sicilia), Sant’Angelo di Brolo, and Raccuia. Many of the properties mentioned in those early records were still owned by my family when I was a child, particularly land and houses in the areas of the Feu, Pianoforno, Fossa, Pantano, and Librizzi center. In fact even today’s Muscarà descendants including myself have land at the Pantano, Fossa, and Pianoforno, and perhaps at the Feu as well. In addition part of grandpa’s ancestral house is still owned by our family although it is abandoned, crumbling and in disrepair, a mere shell of the former edifices. When I look at the building it makes me think of a derelict who once had been a noble prince!
Grandfather don Pippinu was caught between two worlds, the feudal and privileged one of his ancestors and a new social order that turned the old world upside down. His world was an inheritance already fading away, the values and expectations of a moribund social elite were no longer relevant or possible. From his birth to his death, Grandpa actually watched his own world dying. I am sure that grandpa would identify with don Fabrizio the main character of Lampedusa’s The Leopard. At one point don Fabrizio says “I am a member of the old ruling class…. I belong to an unfortunate generation, swung between the old world and the new, and I find myself ill at ease in both. And what is more, as you must have realized by now, I am without illusions…. We of our generation must draw aside and watch the capers and somersaults of the young around this ornate catafalque.”
Grandpa was the Pater Familias of the Muscarà and responsible for their well being and economic sustenance. The ancestral estates provided not only the land but the manpower to work the land. With the loss of feudal rights and the diminished landholdings he was also left without the manpower to maintain the former established way of life. He needed to adjust to a new world but it was very difficult for a man who lived almost 96 years. As grandpa’s liquid assets diminished, he started selling his houses and land piece by piece, and when the funds from the sale of his estates ran out he sold another house or another piece of land. Trying to adapt to the ‘new world” and having to make a living he opened a food store – macelleria - tavern, in fact he turned part of his house into his business venue. Of course the remaining land was still cultivated by people that he hired and it yielded wine, olive oil, fruit, wheat, etc. for personal use. The land was also the source of the hazelnuts family business, in fact the cultivation of the hazelnuts (not just by the Muscarà but by other families as well) was the town’s biggest agricultural enterprise. I have been told by old timers that large amounts of these nuts were purchased by the Perugina Chocolate Factory to make their best known treats called Baci (Kisses). Baci are truffles made with milk chocolate, hazelnuts, and nougat, and then bathed in inky black dark chocolate. Pure heaven!
Grandpa must have felt the conflict between the love of his own past and his appreciation for the possibilities of the newly unified Italy. I never heard grandpa talk about the past nor complain about life’s hardships in a changing world. In addition to the complications of the Risorgimento, during his lifetime he also had to deal with other historical life changing events such as the First and Second World Wars. Yet I saw a positive and fun person who took the time out to spoil me, a person who was very proud to be an Italian. One vivid memory of grandpa is that he always wore the Italian colors on his lapel. Although grandpa never spoke to me of our ancestry, perhaps because I was just a child and left Italy soon after WWII, he did make my cousins and family aware of the Muscarà history. I was absolutely surprised when in 2003, during a visit to Librizzi, I commented to a couple of cousins of my research about our ancestors, the famous Muscarà that I discovered, and that our coat of arms is found inside the church of Maria SS della Catena. They looked at me as if I had come down from Mars and said “Yes we know, grandpa told us about our family history”. In fact I found out that the town of Librizzi considers one of our ancestor don Andrea Muscarà as one of her three illustrious sons. I find it ironic that I spent years researching my family when MY FAMILY was well aware of the Muscarà history; my family just accepted our historical roots and never bragged about it. I was the one who was uprooted and trying to fit in a new country. I was the one who grew up without knowing about the ancestral roots and I was the one who truly needed to feel rooted in my ancestry!
As I mentioned above, I used to visit the Feu with my beloved redheaded grandpa (Yes, grandpa had beautiful red hair.) who would hop on one of his horses, sit me in front of him and gallop away to the Feu. Upon arrival at the Feu I was always treated to goodies by the former tenants and by grandpa's friends who lived at the Colla, having a sweet tooth I always looked forward to the visits. Another fun part of the trip was the crossing of the River Timeto in order to get to the Feu itself. This was done on foot because during the summer the river would dry up and we could cross the river by stepping on the strategically placed river stones. Interestingly while researching the history of Librizzi I discovered that at one time the Timeto had been navigable! The land along the river was fertile, there were vineyards, orange and lemon groves, olive groves, and acres and acres of "golden fields". Wheat was grown in the area and it was quite a beautiful sight to see the fields of golden wheat spikes dotted with beautiful red papaveri, poppies.
I loved my grandpa and he loved me. Apparently I reminded him of his wife who passed away when I was 7 years old, and therefore he doted on me, so I was told, more than he did for his other grandchildren. Actually my opinion is that he was able to spend more time with me because by the time that I was born he was an older gentleman and had plenty of time to chase me around the piazza, or read the newspaper to me, or take me on his horse to visit his land, etc. I remember that I was very mischievous and that I would run all over town with him chasing me, I ran with abandon in an effort to outrun him. I am sure that it was grandpa’s plan not to catch me but, of course, I was too young to realize that it was all part of the game. I thought that I was the one in charge! The times spent with grandpa are happy memories for me. I felt free, loved, and very happy. He did not forget me when I came to the United States, he often wrote to me and it was obvious that he missed me tremendously. When my husband and I were married, grandpa wrote to me a lovely congratulatory note. I still have the treasured note written by the trembling hand of an 89 year old man.
Grandpa had a daily routine. First of all, on most days he walked for 5 or 6 miles, just for the fun of it. He did this until the year before his death at the age of 96 minus a month. Invariably his lunch consisted of two fried eggs, bread, and a glass of wine. He always had a newspaper nearby to read silently to himself, or aloud to me. Another item that he kept close to him for daily reading was a Bible. This was unusual since the Librizzi men of his generation seldom went to church, they expected their wives and daughters to go to church and pray for them! However many of our ancestors had been priests since our family followed the historical custom of designating the second or third son to the priesthood, perhaps grandpa was influenced by the traditional family piety.
After lunch and the usual siesta, grandpa used to sit on his balcony and chat with a man across the street whose balcony was directly across grandpa’s. Grandpa’s friend was a very old man who even in the heat of the Librizzi August summers, would sit on the balcony covered with blankets! I was fascinated with this old man who wanted to live a little longer so that he could reach his 100th birthday! His dream almost came true but not quite, he died just before his 100th birthday! In my adult life I frequently thought of this man and wondered who he was, I finally discovered his identity this past June of 2009. He was don Achille Marziano a renown mayor of the town, and grandpa’s first cousin! Finding out that the ‘old man’ was actually one of my ancestors was a pleasant surprise. For years I had known about the celebrated mayor don Achille Marziano from the book “Memorie di ieri e dell’altro ieri” that his son Marco Marziano wrote and dedicated to his dad. I also ‘knew’ him from reading the town’s records and from reading the book “Librizzi” written by Antonino D’Amico.
The book written by Marco Marziano is very interesting because it is a collection of remembrances of Librizzesi who are eighty or older. The first story in the book is actually Marco’s own memories about “a summer night of many years ago”. It takes place during the Second World War and three of the people featured in the story are Andrea, Giuseppe, and Gennaro Muscarà, my dad’s first cousins and accomplished musicians.
The story that is of interest in regard to the events of the Risorgimento and the Mayor Achille Marziano is the one titled ‘Il Garibaldino’, his name was Cono Pizzino. The date was February 6, 1935 and the Garibaldino’s coffin was being brought to the church for the burial rites. When the Podestà of the town asked whose funeral it was he discovered that it was the Garibaldino’s. The Podestà immediately asked the family to wait for him in church. In less than an hour a platoon of the MVSN was presenting arms in front of the altar in the church, a band was playing a funeral march, and the Italian flag was being carried in front of the procession. The Podestà explained that it was his duty to render homage to a patriot who fought for the Unity of Italy. Cono Pizzino had been 18 years old when he joined Garibaldi’s army of volunteers. Cono was not a Librizzese, he came to live in Librizzi to get away from the town that did not appreciate his contributions to the War. On the other hand Librizzi appreciated and honored their three volunteers who had joined the Garibaldi army, and had been rewarded by the mayor of Librizzi, as ordered by the new State, with plots of land! The mayor who awarded the land was cousin don Achille Marziano, the little old man who was the object of my fascination.
There is one memory about grandpa that is of special importance to me, it took place during the Second World War. It occurred at the time of the invasion of Sicily and the Allied soldiers were conducting warfare against the Germans in the area of the Colla. The Colla is located at a crossroads at the foot of historical Librizzi, one road led to the center of Librizzi the other one was a major road that connected Messina, Catania, and other large cities . The rumors and stories of Allied soldiers molesting the women and children on their path were consistent and frightening. As their march got closer to the Colla, the town’s residents went into hiding in isolated parts of the nearby mountains. Grandpa started to evacuate his little grandchildren, especially the females, then the other children and adults (basically women and old men) into the remote and less accessible areas of our land or to friends' summer homes in the mountains. The first grandchildren that he brought to the mountains were me and my little brother Pippo, he placed us on his horse and furiously galloped away. It was an exhilarating flight with the wind caressing my face and the speed of the flying horse to add the element of reckless excitement. Besides, I was with my grandpa. I was three and a half years old at that time. He brought us to the home of a friend where others from the town had already arrived. He left us there to go back and get the next batch of grandchildren. My family and I were separated for a day or two as it took a while to figure out which grandchild was left where. Eventually grandpa and my mom found us and brought us to where the rest of the family was taking refuge, we arrived to the other location in the middle of the night. The children were bedded down inside the house and the adults were sleeping outside. I did not wish to be away from mom and I went out looking for her. Walking over or around the adults sleeping under the moon I finally found my mother, grandmother, and aunts. That night and subsequent nights I slept outside with the adults. It was a magical time for a little girl, I was reunited with my mother, the warm nights were clear and the night sky was full of twinkling jewels. I was content and fearless. It was a peaceful break from the very chaotic and frightening bombing of bridges in the Colla area, town of Patti, and other nearby locations. I do not know how long we remained hidden in the mountains but eventually we returned to the town where the old men, including my grandfather, had gone back to immediately after the evacuation. Once their families were in a safe place the man were prepared to guard their homes and businesses. Grandpa was 69 years old.
Grandpa, age 94 or 95
Grandpa always wore a beret
I own a tiny part of the centuries old compound of houses that used to be the Muscarà residences. For some reason my heart is tied to the past and to the part of the house where during my childhood my grandparents lived, and where my father and his siblings were born and grew up. No, I am not emotionally ready to let go of the ‘house’ and so here are a few more comments and remembrances about the house.
Portico Muscara' with a brief view of the inner court
One of the doors inside the courtyard where the horses were kept
These are my remembrances of grandpa’s house: To access the house from the lower level on Via San Michele, one had to go through the East entrance which was protected by a huge wrought iron gate, this entrance led to a covered area and from there one exited into the inner court. The gate was decorated with a design which I assume was the family stemma (crest). The sheltered area and the open court, known as the cortile, is where the horses were kept. The open court was formed by connecting buildings which faced East, West, North, and South. During my childhood the East and West wings of this courtyard were still owned by grandpa and the other two opposite wings had been sold. I remember being told that for centuries the whole compound had belonged to the Muscarà family. This assertion is supported by the Census documents that I read as they record the houses that made up this compound and give the names of specific Muscarà ancestors who lived there as well as names of the neighbors (the neighbors were all Muscarà related). The documents locate this compound in the area called Il Belvedere. To my knowledge, today there is no specific place in Librizzi called Il Belvedere, rather Il Belvedere today refers to any place from where there is a spectacular view. It so happens that the upper level of the compound was located on Via San Biaggio a few feet from the piazza, from this location there is a spectacular view of the Aeolian Islands and the Tyrrhenian Sea! I really am not sure if the Muscarà Belvedere refers to the location of grandpa’s house by the piazza or if centuries ago there was another Muscarà compound. Perhaps the early Muscarà lived in the oldest section of Librizzi by the Chiesa Matrice, where indeed there is a spectacular view of the River Timeto, the Gulf of Patti, the Tyrrhenian Sea, the Aeolian Islands, several towns, spectacular mountains to the East which came alive at sunrise, ….
I have always wondered why Grandma and my aunts Teresa and Frasina lived on the East Wing of the cortile while Grandpa lived on the West Wing across the cortile. The West wing had one entrance in the courtyard of the lower level and another entrance on the third floor level which was on Via San Biaggio near the Piazza Catena. The third floor of the West wing is where grandpa had his store-macelleria-taverna. Above the store there was a fourth level of the West Wing, the forth level and the level below the store (second level) were grandpa’s living quarters. By the time that I left Librizzi the store was no longer in operation, and when I visited Librizzi in the 1970s that third level had been returned to the original living quarters. After his death at the age of 96 minus a month, the East Wing had been sold and the two unmarried aunts Teresa and Frasina lived in the West wing.
In 2008 I learned a little more about my grandpa from a newly found cousin who is the daughter of my mom’s uncle and his wife C.B. CB. is 94 or 95 years old but her memory is phenomenal. She remembers grandpa don Peppinu very well. She says that grandpa, Angelo Calabrese (my mother’s grandfather), and Filippo Palino, nicknamed "Passuluni" (husband of grandma’s sister Antonina Rottino) used to be friends. The three of them used to meet in the piazza where they spent hours chatting. Apparently one favorite topic was taxes. When the bills for the taxes arrived Angelo used to complain bitterly, but grandpa don Peppinu instead of complaining would face the church in the piazza and addressing himself to the Madonna, he would let her know what he thought of her!
CB says that grandpa was impetuous, had a great sense of humor, loved to talk incessantly, .... She also says that grandma Rottino used to keep him in line, and knew how to keep grandpa from getting 'too excited' about things. CB also says that grandpa Peppino was a hard working man. I asked CB what grandpa's nickname was and she said that it was 'don Peppinu Chicentra'. The nickname could be derived from the expression 'Chi centra?', 'what does it have to do with anything?’ Or the word 'centra', which is derived from the Greek word 'centron' means "punta, grosso chiodo, or spranga di ferro". These words all suggest a pointed object and strength. Was his nickname a reference about his personality or character? Did it refer to his strength, being honest, “calling a spade a spade”? Was it about his favorite saying “Chi centra”? I do not know.
Grandma and grandpa continued to be a presence in my life long after their death. Starting at the time of grandma Rottino’s death (when I was seven years old) and ending about ten years ago, I had frequent dreams of both grandparents. Unfortunately when grandma came into my dreams, they were always scary and nightmarish (My life started to feel the consequences of my father’s two years spent in the German concentration camps around the time that grandma passed away. I associated grandma’s death with the sad moments of my young life.). However, when I dreamt of grandpa they were good dreams. I used to dream of grandpa anytime that painful events were occurring in my life, and no matter how chaotic my real life was, grandpa used to come to my rescue through my dreams. He used to take care of me in my dreams and he would not let harm come to me. I am convinced that the calming dreams of grandpa kept me sane when my real world was too much to bear. Factual or not, possible or impossible, grandpa was and is my Guardian Angel.
My beloved grandpa don Pippinu was and is my Angel and my hero.
May he rest in peace together with his beloved wife, my grandmother.
