Connections to the past

Long time no write

2010-05-15T14:44:00.000-07:00

I have been consumed by school the last year almost two years and nearly forgot I had a blog. Ha!

But, picnic is planned up and ready again for this year Aug 29th Phillip Arnold Park in Renton. Which brings us into our third year. My intentions as my search begin in early 2007 was to find family members, and family friends who all came here late 1800's early 1900's from Mattie and Susa Italy. After seeing that our last name was spelled in so many different ways Anarde/Anardi/Ainardi- it has proved to be difficult to find everyone, and has been even harder to find how we are related even though we all share a common name (that is an usual name at that!) we can't find our connections in family trees.

My theory is the connections are really far back. As I can only pin my tree to 1700. Susa and Mattie were towns with populations no bigger then 20,000 at any point really in history and that was in the hay day when the Romans took over. And now they hover around 2,000 to 5,000 in population. So very small. Even more puzzling in my search is I found even more Ainardis/Anardis/Anardes in South America then in North America. Being limited in Spanish, communication has been small. But I have gotten that they are decedents whose grandparents or great-grandparents as well came from Northern Italy. Which again makes the tree of our surname even bigger.

To make a long story short I believe I have gotten more questions then answers in my search on my family background.

I avoid because of guilt.

2008-08-11T17:03:00.000-07:00

Lately my oldest child Raven and I have been butting heads. She is nine, and really starting to throw attitude towards me, I can sense pre- teen coming. My husband doesn't see this but I think its daddy's girl syndrome. I rarely talk about this in life and I never type about this on the internet, but this has consumed me lately. My anger isn't directed at Raven , its about something I feel I can't control. It is a fear. A fear of not being able to help my child. And, I have a lot of anger towards myself and the world. Raven appears normal. Very pretty, I am always told she is the sweetest child by her teachers and those who only meet her briefly. Now she is getting older and she is more apparent of her differences with those around her, and emotionally she has began to express her feelings on this. Raven was born May 16th 1999 and it was a very difficult pregnancy. I had hypertension so much so my blood pressure was at the point where a stroke or seizure was sure to happen if I was not induced. Furthermore she had stopped moving the last few weeks of my pregnancy. The doctor pushed it off as her being squished in there so there was nowhere to move. This made sense to me. He was wrong. Raven was born with the cord wrapped around her neck and arm. 25% of births have a baby with a cord around their neck, usually a dr detects it and a c-section is formed. only 5% of the time is a cord wrapped around twice as it was with Raven. Almost always then is a C-section formed as death is common if vaginal is continued and cord is chocking the baby. Needless to say I pushed for almost two hours, forceps later, and a blue and white baby came out with a ripped placenta and cord. Raven suffered brain damage, but no one told me this then. Raven developed slow but no one said a word, as she was always just a few months behind it seemed. No big deal everyone said. It bothered me though. My friends babies were learning to talk , crawl, and walk and Raven was always months behind them. It wasn't until school started somebody said "hey, there is some serious developmental problems here, but we don't know what." She is nine years old and still no one can really tell me what is wrong with my child or really how to help her.She can read sometimes at first grade level, sometimes do math at second grade level. Ahh but emotionally she is still many ways like a 4-5 year old. Last year at school to ease her tormenting they FINALLY put her in special education classes. I feel defeated, and I feel unarmed with the tools she needs me to have to help her succeed in life. I'm going to approach the pullman school district this fall and ask them if we could start a group for the parents and kids in Special Ed. Raven struggles so much socially. And, this is the part I struggle with her the most. accepting that she has a "unseen disability". It isn't like downs- syndrome. She appears normal, but she is not and I have such a hard time as does society seeing this. Perhaps if all of us parents in the special ed classes got together we could all discuss the struggles the strengths. I need people to identify with just as much Raven does. Both of our anger over the disability is coming to a boil.

Change that tune

2008-08-09T21:14:00.000-07:00

Well since primarily most of my Italian, life and family updates are written over at i-italy.org. I figured I could take the liberty of just making this a whatever my interest happens to be at the moment. The huge structure of only writing on my genealogy I found was stifling my writing. Its true I'm extremely passionate on the topic, but I can't write about it in several places and still give it that excitement I felt it deserved.

Plus, to be honest, school this quarter is whipping my butt making it very hard to write about my real interests over and over. I sometimes rather vent, or be creative. I will never take a online class again. I feel as though I am confined to the computer and my books. My butt has spread and I'm gaining weight. Ughh. So glad Fall classes are just a few weeks away. Back to civilization!

So for now I give you pictures of the scenic highway along WA/ID boarder!(I love the Paul Bunyan guy, found the old cartoon on you tube the other day. Oh how I miss the classic cartoons. It was a hit with my kids.)

susa Italy newspaper

2008-07-24T18:24:00.000-07:00

Casa

2008-07-06T11:44:00.000-07:00

www.ametegis.org

We made it in the Mattie's, website.

2008-07-05T17:55:00.001-07:00

Hey a story I wrote(the one below this post) made it on the front page of i-Italy magazine. YAY

http://www.i-italy.org/sections/magazine

scroll a few stories down you should see my drawing, and story.

pace

How I found the Italian in me

2008-07-03T20:05:00.001-07:00

I’ve never read the book, “Were You Always an Italian?”By Maria Laurino, so I won’t pretend I have, but the reviews are a very mixed bag. (http://www.sicilianculture.com/news/alwaysitalian.htm)My own story could be similar in finding my Italia. I’m not a full blooded Italian. I’ve got a mix of other Northern European and Native American from my mother. Do I embrace these cultures too? You bet. In fact as a kid, it was what I knew best. Being an Irish and Native American meant more to me then Italian, even if my surname ended in a vowel.

I grew up in a home that had concealed its identity almost 80 years before. I knew I was Italian, but we really didn’t talk about it or embrace it like one should. Grandpa didn’t want to talk about his parents the “immigrants”. He only shared a few words of Italian with me, and he really had no idea where his family came from when I showed him a map. “Oh, it’s somewhere up north by France.” We joked about being Italian, if we even bothered talking about being Italian. We watched mob movies and compared ourselves to it. If gathered in groups “we all smelled like Garlic”. We called each other “Wop’s” and “Dego’s”. I didn’t know there was problems with any of this tell I grew up.

I call this the identity crisis. Last summer I knew my last name as Anarde. My grandfather had nine siblings. Half of them spelt our surname Anardi but when I asked why, no one seemed to have the answer. I knew growing up telling people I was part Italian I was given strange looks. I wasn’t the “typical Italian” look. I was blond, blue eyed and the name wasn't right. The only thing that linked me to a Roman past was the nose. I grew up watching these mob movies with these women thinking I needed to have the big hair, smacking gum, hide drugs for my men, and getting beat on. I couldn’t identify. I started to think maybe I’m not so much Italian. I had the wrong skin, hair, eyes, personality(according to the media)and even name.

So last summer my brother had gone to Rome with his college class and when he came back he got me really interested in looking into our grandfathers “hidden” past. I had already started to research my mother’s side of the family with the Native American family, but with no success.
At almost 30 I did finally find the answer to our name. I can only imagine what it’s like for one who has found out that they were adopted. This damage though was almost 80 years old. For my name was not Anarde nor was my other family members names Anardi. It was not pronounced the way I had recited it for all my years. I had found the key to the past; my great grandparent’s hidden names. Ainardi was our surname and no one knew. All that knew the secret were dead. My great grandfather’s name was not Louis as it said on his death certificate , it was Luigi. My great grandmothers name was not Melanie as the Americans and her own kids called her but it was Meliana. What was in the name? This name goes as far back in Mattie and Susa Italy from the Roman times it can be found in books written in French and Italian but why did they turn their hearts on their names. Fear, WW 11.

This still didn’t resolve the shame of 80 years that I needed to work through for myself and my family.

Part1

2008-06-28T23:56:00.000-07:00

The picnic happened, and it was AMAZING!!

2008-06-16T22:42:00.000-07:00

If I hadn't been trying so hard to keep up with everyone who was arriving(by shaking hands introducing) I would had been crying.

We recreated a picnic from nearly 75 years ago.

I am pleased and because of the great turn out, I'm doing it again next year. I hope this became a wake up call for many,
"please keep in touch with your family, it is your roots"

these are the original from 1935 still living.

All of us

Where I am now

2008-05-24T09:52:00.001-07:00

http://www.i-italy.org/user/ainardi

2008-05-14T19:59:00.000-07:00

For the confusion I caused my family & friends. I was born with a made up name "Anarde" I didn't know this. This was my fathers name, and my grandfathers before them I didn't know. I married into a simple name , Smith:) This got boring, I wanted to reconnect with my Italian name- but this time with the correct spelling.

miracle all the time

2008-05-08T21:17:00.000-07:00

I have miracles happen often. Sometimes I just don't notice them, but this.. this was truly amazing.

I know people think I'm a bit over the top when it comes to the Italian research stuff. I really dont care what those people think. I can sense people guiding me. When things like this happen even more so I realize what a gift It is for me to have this mad driving passion.

In English class we are writing our second essay, I was doing research on a search tool through our school. A story comes up and lines some words pop up to me fitting perfect with my essay. Then I see it. Names I see the names in the paper.

This reunion picnic we are having in June . There were some people I couldn't find, assumed they were dead, had no descendants, or daughters and the names had changed.

I saw a name. Smack dap in the middle of that picture, the accordion player is Al Maletta , the story I found talked about his daughter Beverly how she was submitting photos of him to Vincenza Scarpaci a Author living in Eugene Or who is writing a book called "A Journey of Italians in America", this artical was written in yakima hearld.

So I got on it tracking down everyone who I could . I emailed Vincenza, sons of Italy in yakima- and today I got replies. This evening Beverly called we missed each other but i'll try her tomorrow. She left me the greatest message,The message said:

"Hello Crystal Ainardi, I wanted to let you know my father is still Alive he is in his 90's!"

June is around the corner!

2008-05-05T22:00:00.000-07:00

Still can't believe I have somehow pulled this off. There is a greater force. Only last year , I thought maybe just maybe I could get everyone together. Now, Wow Wow 200-300 people are coming to a "reunion picnic" in June. Tons of people have pulled this together.My family. I will cry.

Little Italy in the graveyard

2008-05-04T19:54:00.000-07:00

I went to visit the "Italian hill" as my family calls it. The cemetery where all my Dads family is buried there is a little hill in the front corner , most of the Italian immigrants are there including my Great Grandparents. I was curious what the IHS symbols meant that I saw on my families head stones.

Research:

possible origin of the IHS monogram dates back to the Battle of Milvian Bridge in 312; according to legend, the Roman emperor Constantine saw a symbol in the sky (it was a labarum or a cross, the stories differ) with the words "In Hic Signo" beneath it. "In Hoc Signo" is Latin for "In this sign", meaning that God was promising Constantine victory in exchange for his submission to Christ. Constantine accepted and ordered his soldiers to paint the sign of Christ (once again, a cross or labarum) on their shields... the next day, the battle was won.

Answer:

Contrary to popular belief, the "IHS" does not stand for "I have suffered". On the contrary, it is the first three letters for the spelling of Jesus in the Greek Language.

http://wiki.answers.com/Q/What_does_'IHS'_mean_on_Christian_symbols

My third generation post got some movement

2008-05-02T12:47:00.000-07:00

http://www.i-italy.us/forum/topic/show?id=912875%3ATopic%3A32471

I posted it on another site called i italy.

More on Luigi Ainardi

2008-05-01T22:16:00.001-07:00

As you can see the second section for declare of intent book with all the other names.. he never filed for the petition , in other words never became legal. Dual citizen ship here I come. Thank you grandpa Luigi!!

I wrote something similar before in here

2008-04-28T16:56:00.000-07:00

but I had time to expand and explore more with it, I'm hoping to turn it in as a assignment later on.

Third generation

My own upbringing and watching the generations before me unfold and turn to dust, told me the story of the immigrants. My theory or hypothesis in this paper is focused on my Italian family specifically, but out of curiosity I researched and found I wasn’t the only Italian with the same observation. Nor was this theory secluded to Italian immigrants I discovered in talking with other friends and researching online. I call this theory the “Generations Unravel”. The definition of unravel is as follows: to free from complication or difficulty; make plain or clear; or to take apart; undo; destroy. There are many Authors I've recently come into contact with who have greatly influenced my writing and thought process on this theory, they must be acknowledged.

Angelo Pellegrini was introduced to me last summer by a family friend. His book "Americans by Choice" has changed my life immensely. In this book the man wrote on various Italian immigrants on the west coast. It was an inside look for me to know perhaps the hardships my own great-grandparents endured when they came to America. I also was able to find the answer to other cousins in this book as Pellegrini had written on some family I had in the Seattle area the Patricellis.[1]

The second Author which I was just made aware of recently by a fellow Italian is John Fante.[2] I picked up the book “Wait until Spring Bandini" a few months back and I have not been able to put it down. I have cried and giggled while reading this, similar experience to what "Americans by Choice" did to me. Again like Pellegrini did in his book, he made me painfully aware of the differences that became of generations. In this book he wrote of an immigrant family who had three boys who were all American born. The father and mother were very poor and spoke little English. In rebellious fate the three boys were very different and slipped as far away from their parent’s as possible.
When I started to look for answers for myself this past year to find out about who I was, it became clear to me that I needed to go to the closest source .My great-grandparents are dead so the main source was gone. My grandfather, their son is dead, so my source on the immigrants and first generations within my family were short. Of my grandfathers nine siblings only one is still alive. She is a woman who scares me. Extremely intimating, but she is the generation who will have my answers. I found old friends of my grandfathers and great Aunts, Uncles and ones that knew my great-grandparents and something became very apparent in the pattern in the way they spoke of their heritage. It was the kind I grew up seeing in my grandfather which brings me into the first generation.
First generation equaled denial. I had noticed in many of the first generation born American Italians I have met, many were ashamed. To hide this they joke call each other "Wop”,"Dego" my grandfather I recall hearing him on the phone echoing in and out of English and slang Italian with his friends. He never wanted to speak of the past with us ,the newest generations, NEVER. I noticed this with others of his age group; they just wanted to be accepted, sure their parents were born elsewhere but these guys, these guys they were Americans not Italians. They were not dirty like people said they were. Ellis Island wasn’t the only place where name changes happened. They happened right here in Shame. They wanted to be like John Smith down the street who had the nice cloths and toys, and ate something other then Macaroni. This shame and the Denial continued onto generation two.
The second generation I like to call “We Are American” In this group I observed my father my uncle and their childhood friends and the few I have made contact with since planning for an Italian reunion family picnic. Many spoke of being proud, loved embracing their Italian heritage, some attend "Italian festivals”, many brag of their cooking skills and love of vino. Still some aren't even aware of the town their family came from, know a word in their families tongue, and never knew the pain of being called a "wop" when it truly was meant to be a racial slur. They are American they go to work every day, they pay their bills and life just goes on. This goes into third generation.
Third generation find themselves asking who am I? This would be me, in all that I have found in this group it’s like a lost sea of people trying to swim to the ship. By now many of us are blended, Irish, Scottish, Native American a little bit of everything maybe. But the few who still identify themselves as an Italian-American like I, struggle for our answers. Many we are hungry for the knowledge the ancestors took with them. Many long for the land their family came from. Some now discovering what their true surname is. How can we truly be recognized by Italians of the native land, if we have lost through the generations everything that made us Italian, and now has turned us American.

[1] "Americans by Choice", by Angelo Pellegrini, (1956)

[2] “Wait until Spring Bandini", by John Fante, (1983)

there is no peace

2008-04-18T13:14:00.000-07:00

Bride for peace

Turkish leaders condemned the murder of an Italian 'bride for peace' artist who was raped and strangled while hitchhiking through the country in a case which has shocked and dismayed both Turkey and Italy. Turkish President Abdullah Gul expressed his condolences for the killing of Giuseppina Pasqualino, 33, in a message sent to the Italian embassy in Ankara. Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan said Turkey was ''deeply saddened'' and that he could not ''find the right words to describe this violent murder''.

Pasqualino, who also went by the name Pippa Bacca, went missing on March 31 while hitchhiking across Turkey dressed in a white wedding gown in a bid to promote peace. Her naked body was found hidden in bushes in woodland area near Gebze in northwest Turkey on Friday. Initial autopsy results showed she had been raped and murdered within hours of her disappearance. A 38-year-old Turkish man was charged with her murder. The suspect, who was tracked down by police after he inserted his SIM card into Bacca's stolen mobile phone, has confessed to raping and then strangling his victim with a shoe lace.

Bacca, who was the niece of Italy's iconic conceptual artist Piero Manzoni, left her hometown of Milan on March 8 with friend and fellow artist Silvia Moro, both dressed in long, white, flowing wedding dresses. The two planned to hitchhike their way to Jerusalem as part of their so-called 'Brides on Tour' project aimed at promoting peace in the countries they travelled through. Bacca and Moro separated when they got to Istanbul with the intention of meeting up again in Lebanon.

In a video clip of Bacca taken at the outset of her journey, the artist told the camera: ''This trip wants to prove that if one has faith in others then one receives only goodness in return''.

http://www.italianalmanac.org/

Writing, School.. BUSY

2008-04-15T21:21:00.000-07:00

Well haven't had much time to write lately. I started finally on my journey of college . First week stressful.. but I suppose expected , all new I had no idea what the hell I was doing, and always questioned if I should even be there.

Getting excited though Spring is showing its face, which means Summer is around the corner, which for me equals the "Reunion Picnic". I am very excited, I'm hearing from people I don't even personally know by email and it just really warms my heart that I will find pieces to my family and their history.

Ordered a bunch of new books today to inspire and give me insight.

good one

2008-04-05T16:08:00.001-07:00

http://www.comunesofitaly.org/mimi_story

Italian Citizenship

2008-03-30T14:23:00.000-07:00

My inspiration level has been so- so lately. Other things on the mind, school coming up in consuming me.. but wanted to throw this information out there as I've been asked about this a lot. I get asked all the time. Why have I gone through the trouble changing my name/ tracking down documents. 1 its important to me and 2 because I'm applying for dual citizenship.

------------------------------------------------------------

Italian citizenship is granted by birth through the paternal line (with no limit on the number of generations)
or through the maternal line (for individuals born after January 1, 1948).

If you were born in any country where citizenship is acquired by birth, and any one of the situations listed below pertains to you,
you may be considered an Italian citizen. For each category all conditions must be met.

1) Your father was an Italian citizen at the time of your birth and you never renounced your right to Italian citizenship.

2) Your mother was an Italian citizen at the time of your birth, you were born after January 1st, 1948 and you never renounced your right to Italian citizenship.

3) Your father was born in your native country, your paternal grandfather was an Italian citizen at the time of your father's birth, neither you nor your father ever renounced your right to Italian citizenship.

4) Your mother was born in your native country, your maternal grandfather was an Italian citizen at the time of her birth, you were born after January 1, 1948 and neither you nor your mother ever renounced your right to Italian citizenship.

5) Your paternal or maternal grandfather was born in your native country, your paternal great grandfather was an Italian citizen at the time of his birth, neither you nor your father nor your grandfather ever renounced your right to Italian citizenship

NOTE: A woman born before 01/01/1948 can claim the Italian citizenship only from her father and can transfer it to descendants after 01/01/1948).

NOTE: "Italian citizen at the time of birth" means that he/she did not acquire any other citizenship through naturalization, before the descendant's birth.

The men I didnt know

2008-03-19T15:21:00.000-07:00

All the guys in this photo either died long before me, or when I was just a kid. I barely remember Uncle John , Uncle Fred, and Uncle Dell.. only that John and my Grandpa were close. Uncle Fred lived up the street, and he was very funny. Dell I don't recall at all, I should that was the man who started the trend with the name "Anarde".He being the oldest most of the siblings followed suit and spelt their name Anarde. He Gave us the name We were all born with.

Back Row:
Dell Anarde, George Wilkins(married Aunt Ernesta Ainardi), Fred White(married Aunt Mary Anarde)
Front:
John Anarde, Luigi Ainardi, Frank Anardi

Life with Luigi

2008-03-17T13:49:00.000-07:00

On another site I stumbled across a old radio show "life with Luigi" http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Life_with_Luigi , for its time it was a huge hit with Italians.

Its sad funny. I laugh along with it only because I can see how the generation of my grandfather would had enjoyed these, In so possibly rebel them even more to become more "American"

here is a link to show samples

http://www.freeotrshows.com/otr/l/Life_With_Luigi.html

I found this

2008-02-29T19:26:00.000-08:00

and I ordered it i wonder what kind of information this has. I find it interesting that they made a book with this name, the name comes from a very small section in Italy so this amazed me.

I found it online at Target, they have over 300,000 names turned into books.

http://www.target.com/Ainardi-Name-History-Ancestry-com/dp/B000WRR7CA

The Dream

2008-02-27T21:51:00.000-08:00

Last night I had a dream about nonno .. In my dream he was sitting on the sofa at my grandmas house. Everyone was there perhaps it was a holiday. Everyone acted as though all was normal.. but he was alone at the sofa. I was so happy in my dream to see him, I approached him with all my documents and newly found secrets the family had hide. He didn't say a word but looked at my papers and smiled.

I woke up.

I used to dream of him often right after he died in 1999.One has always stuck with me. When I was little my brother and I would take over the couches in their living room with blankets watching morning cartoons. He always would come over and tuck the blanket under our feet.

I had a dream one time when I was staying over at my grandmas.. I was curled up on the couch I would take over as a kid with the same blue blanket. I feel asleep but briefly as my nonno had come to visit in my sleep, he walked over to me on the couch and again as his ritual he proceeded to wrap the blanket under my feet.He only smiled and called me my nickname from him "sis".

I woke up with my feet wrapped under the blanket.

A story I found

2008-02-25T20:24:00.000-08:00

goes very much in line with a entry I made a few below"the theory"

It should be interesting to see what kind of information I get from the people I'm interviewing , on the topic of post war.

Italian Memories

By Cookie Curci

http://www.italiansrus.com/articles/subs/ethnic_images.htm

----As an Italian American growing up in a post war America, it wasn’t unusual to experience some prejudice. Like many, whose grandparents emigrated here during the great migration, my family was second generation. Because Italy’s tyrant Benito Mussolini had joined Germany’s forces against the United States we were viewed with some suspicion. For that reason we never spoke our native Italian language outside the home and, even then, we would reprimand our parents and grandparents for speaking it to each other. Because of this, we lost a good deal of what should have been our inherited second language. In order to fit in with our peers we concealed much of our Italian heritage. Public opinion was formed quickly against all those whose former country sided against the U.S. Italian Americans were often ridiculed, even though our fathers, uncles and brothers had joined America’s Armed forces and were fighting these hated oppressors.

The Italian American image had suffered greatly during these years. Name-calling was common and I, like many Italian American kids, was called unfaltering names such as "Wop" and "Dago." We responded in kind with this verse, " If I’m a Dago and I’m a Wop, I eat spaghetti and you eat slop!" Ethnic and racial epithets can be painful and damage the spirit for years to come.----

cousin marianne email

2008-02-21T22:15:00.000-08:00

""""That family tree is mind blowing. I had seen the picture of the castle before when I had done some research on Mattie but I could never find much information on it. I don't remember Grandma ever talking about it that I can recall. Maybe she did and I just did not remember. I know that since Grandpa's family did not treat her very well when she and Aunt Ernesta stayed behind while Grandpa came here, part of her payback to them so to speak was not talking of the Ainardis very much to her children. Pretty powerful considering the lack of communication back then other than letter writing. I remember my dad telling me a story about Grandpa. He said that one morning Grandpa said he had a dream that he had lost his shoe and that he was saying; "I lost my shoe, my mother died". Italians are quite superstitious for a Catholic country. My dad said that about a week later, Grandpa received a letter edged in black, which was how letter communicating a death was sent, saying that Grandpa's mother had died. That story has always stuck with me. As far as Aunt Maria's (Grandma and her neices and nephews called her "Madrina"), Annie will be your best bet. I only met Eda and Mary a few times. Aunt Till also is a wealth of information. She knows the nickname that Grandma called Grandpa, something like Nachu. She said that they also had a nickname for Maria's husband, too."""""""""

Castle that was owned by Ainardi family

I need this ASAP

2008-02-20T08:59:00.000-08:00

Native Religion?

2008-02-17T20:40:00.000-08:00

Religion happens to be a interesting topic among my Italian friends and family. Many are obviously raised Catholic .My family in the beginning was no different. My great grandparents went to Catholic church in Mattie Italy and were married there. They came to America and found Saint Anthony's in downtown Renton. http://www.st-anthony.cc/ there they raised their Children in the church. God fearing people they were. They were poor had 9 mouths to feed and really began to question giving their money to the church, who guilted them.To be a good Catholic you must give, yes? Over the years great grandfather Luigi turned his back on god and the church , for he felt god turned his back on him. Melania eventually did the same. Their kids by then were grown and had children of their own and many of them kept the practice of Catholicism.Not all, my father went to school at Saint Anthony as a kid, but his father my grandpa was a non practicing Catholic since WW11.. but when my father was grown he questioned more.. and the religions of the world.He married my mother a Pentecostal , and it was in very southern style pentecostal. The speaking of tounges and fainting in church"Praise the Lord" My father found great energy in this style of religion and passed this onto my brother and I in our child years. I recall several times standing on a street corner with my father while he preached to the passing folks about the god he had found, I wasn't even three.

I became the best of friends with a nice girl of my age named Sarah who was mostly Native American and who happened to go to Catholic church... obviously not her native religion. As kids on Sundays we would walk a few blocks down from here house to the Catholic Church. We attended together and together we took the blood and body of Christ. Once my parents discovered I had ventured out of their church.. the pentecostal I was put down . Told Catholics were evil, dirty , and God was mad at me. Even at 10 this made no sense to me.. but I was god fearing, I listened. Regardless I never went again with Sarah after the secret was out. I was baptized pentecostal at 11 and sometime after this I rebelled and refused to go to Church. I was finally released at the age of 13 from having to go every Sunday.I once was torchered into going to a Christian camp when I had ran away from home, a woman at my parents church said " god told me she must go in my dream last night". I never felt a connection with the "god" or religion my parents had found. This is when i became a believer of nothing.

It was Six months ago I felt a tug at my heart when I first moved to Pullman WA. The town is small and there is many Churches but the most beautiful of all that caught my eye was the Catholic church. We decided as a family we would all go try this new thing to us,"religion".Sunday at 10 am we walked up the steps and the eyes of the priest periced through me. He knew we were coming we had emailed him, but I felt this man was judging my very soul and it was frightening. The smell was ancient. I knew I was in the right place, but I was not ready for the feelings, was this my native religion? Yes ,I could feel it. 3o mins into service we walked out with hair standing on end.

My father was Catholic before Pentecostal and before what he is now ,Agnostic .My grandfather was a non practicing Catholic, and his Parents and them before them and so forth..

Domestico

2008-02-16T20:12:00.000-08:00

Today I am in this place I consider home. The faces have changed, and even some sencery. I know. I know the smell, every road, every tree, and every secret hidden. I know the wind and the sun here. I know.

I feel all feelings here, the heavy sadness and the wonderful embrace of happiness of Freedom. Is this what they saw? Is this what they felt and knew? I know.The Hills know our faces and hold our feet , 102 years. They know.

I have no idea what these say as writing is unsual..

2008-02-12T23:13:00.001-08:00

The Theory

2008-02-02T01:42:00.000-08:00

I'm feeling deeply inspired today.

Nothing feels certain; I feel upside down and tossed. What I've done to myself and I've allowed others. But this isn't about me it's a thing I have read and something that really makes sense to me

Two Authors I've recently come into contact with who have greatly influenced my writing and thought process.

Angelo Pellegrini was introduced to me last summer by a family friend. A man I had found on the site ancestry.com who happened to be a descendant from one of the families in my "1935 Mattie Picnic" photo

Anyways this book has changed my life immensely, yeah it did. I also was able to find the answer to other cousins in this book as Pellegrini had written on some family I had in the Seattle area the Patricellis.

"Americans by Choice"

The second Author which I was just made re aware of recently by a fellow Italian, is John Fante. I picked up il libro "Wait until Spring Bandini" this morning and I haven't been able to put it down. I'm such a loser I stayed in tonight in the comfort of this book. I have cried and giggled while reading this, similar experience to what "Americans by Choice" did to me. John Fante is what has inspired this post. Please be aware this is a extremely short version of something I hope to expand on later.

..[if gte vml 1]> ..[endif]-->..[if !vml]-->..[endif]-->

The theory is this. In my experience this past changing year I have discovered many things. When I started to look for answers it became clear to me that I needed to go to the closest source .My bis nonni's are dead so the source was gone. My nonno is dead so this source was expired, and of his 9 siblings only one was alive. She is a woman who scares me. Extremely intimating, but I knew, and know that this generation ...her's would have my answers. I found old friends of my grandfathers and great Aunts, Uncles.. Ones that knew my great grandparents and something became very apparent in the pattern in the way they spoke of their heritage. It was the kind I grew up seeing in my grandfather.

1st generation denial= I had noticed in many of the first generation born American Italians I have met, many were ashamed. To hide this they joke"Wop" "Dego" my grandfather i would hear him on the phone echoing in and out of English and broken Italian with his friends. He never wanted to speak of the past, NEVER.I noticed this with others, they just wanted to be accepted, sure their parents were born elsewhere.. but these guys, these guys they were Americans not Italians. They were not dirty like people said they were. Ellis Island isn't the only place where name changes happened. They happened right here in Shame. They wanted to be like John Smith down the street who had the nice cloths and toys, and ate something other then Macaroni. This shame and the Denial continued onto generation two.

2nd generation We Are American= I'll admit here my experience with the second generation isn't as extensive as the first or third being i'm in that group. I have my father my uncle and their childhood friends and the few I have made contact with since planning for the reunion picnic. Many spoke of being proud, love embracing their Italian heritage, some attend "Italian festivals" , brag of their cooking skills and love of vino. Still.. Some aren't even aware of the town their family came from, know a word in their families tongue, and never knew the pain of being called a "wop" when it truly was meant to be negative. They are American they go to work every day, they pay their bills, and life just goes on.. this went into third generation

3rd generation find themselves asking.. who am i?= This would be me, In all that I have found in this group its like a lost sea of people trying to swim to the ship. Who am I? What does this mean? Where are the answers? Who knows? I'm trying to find the answers to all these questions and in doing this I have found other delighted 3rd gens and some I was able to give answers to (family trees)Obviously I can't completely fill this one because... well I'm still looking..

possible outline of the book

2007-12-21T17:38:00.000-08:00

Interview of several live on recorder of life growing up with Italian immigrants in the seattle renton area. Life during world war two being Italian, struggles, discrimination, accomplishments of being first born Americans.Life now. My experience of knowing these people, or first hand impressions. As one person is a family member the others are ones i just recently have found.My own journey of finding my Italian roots.

following names:
Mildred "Anarde" Ainardi Cooper
Mario Tonda
Joe "buddy" Paricelli
Annie Riffero Frank

and either Bill Belmondo or.... who i don't know but my grandfather did, Remo Borracchini

There is a place where the sidewalk ends

2007-12-19T13:05:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking immensely about people and when our time expires. My time is running out, all of ours. Every time i look in the mirror my face and body reflects days and years of passed happiness and sorrow. Death is upon me. The news of my father with cancer is the biggest smack to my own mortality. I am my father, as i type i can look down at my hands and i see his in mine.Sometimes when i smile i feel his face on mine, the other day a old friend of his that i spoke to online who had never met me, told me i was his twin.I feel the death approaching. This isn't all that bothers me, it's been a long curse on my family, my dads brother sits at home with his 89 year old mother paralyzed on one side from a stroke and left almost completely blind. My grandmother was the strong one, the one who was a Rosie during ww2 at Boeing grew a family , a home and still had a huge garden until last year. Death has approached her.Tonight the woman i've only heard cry twice in my 28 years , called me in almost tears to tell me her best friend Norma died her memorial was today. Grandma told me she was tired and was ready to go somewhere else.Shes too proud to ask for answers but i know she wants them.

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends

Shel Silverstein

newspaper story

2007-11-12T01:53:00.001-08:00

Forgotten story

2007-09-23T19:18:00.000-07:00

It seems the greater history has taken its stories with them. As this is what I am finding out as I’ve been researching the roots of my Ancestors.

Here is what researching the family has done though, I have reconnected with cousins family members that I have not seen or spoken to in years. I first started with the American-Italian family members. I was always wondering why some of the family spelt their name Anarde, some Anardi as this was never clear and no one ever talked about. Then the search deepened and I found the people of Mattie! The one thing I knew in our American family, some things you just didn’t talk about.. Such as the past.. I had to find ones that would talk and had the stories.

As a child I would tell people I was Italian and say my last name I always got funny looks, the name Anarde doesn’t sound very Italian does it? To be fair I know the other reason I got funny looks. I’m very white in skin, blue eyed and blond. My mother is Irish and Native American, she is tall, white, blue eyed and red-haired. My father the half Italian from my grandpa Louie, his mother, my grandma Gladys is a mixed breed mostly Irish and Scottish. So here I am white skinned from the Irish and Scottish, but the lingering facial structure reads Italian. My mother is 5’10; I stand at 5’6 a bit of a shorty. I didn’t get my mothers button nose either, or round face. I was granted the Italian features long thin nose, broad forehead and the same sneaky half grin my grandfather displayed.

After my grandfather died of Cancer in 1999 there wasn’t anymore car rides to visit cousins or stops at the hardware store. There were no more phone calls of him yelling into the receiver “Paisano” or “Hey Nello!”or calling us at dinner asking “what’s for dinner?.” I suppose my research is my way of paying debt to my grandfather and his family. As a child I took it all for granted, my grandpa angered me we didn’t see eye to eye very often. Now that its gone I do want to know him, his history, the family and the things we never did talk about.. the past. I hope in some way he knows I am sorry.

My research actually began July 2007, because my brother had commented on the fact that we may have Dual citizenship to Italy. This idea was crazy; I really thought he was full of it. After reading a few articles online I discovered it really was true as long as the great grandparents never did become US citizens. I had a lot of digging to do. With this I was off.

The first thing to find was great grandparent’s birth and marriage certificates. This I knew wouldn’t be easy so I had to start with it first. The problem I kept running into was the names Louis Anardi and Melanie Anardi did not exist according to the archive records. I could not find the names anywhere, Ellis Island, and ancestery.com only listed their deaths. No one came through Ellis Island with the names Anardi, or Anarde from Italy.

I began to think these people never existed. I knew that was a insane thought but who were they really, I knew they were from Italy and lived in Renton that was all I knew. My grandmother Gladys turned out to be a great help, as she told me on a visit when I began questioning her that they were from Mattie Italy and my great grandmothers madden name was Benetto.

I knew there had to be records somewhere in my grandma’s house. I then remembered my grandpa Louie had a scrap book, mostly full of World War 2 pictures and awards. I started looking at his name Anarde , I could just feel inside that this wasn’t the real name. Towards the end of the scrap book there was many lose papers, and all my years looking through that book I had never bothered to read them. This was important not just considering the dual citizenship but I had to know who this people really were! I was a part of them and I knew nothing. After reading several articles and letters from his old friends there were some old folded paper. It was all Italian, but I could tell right away it was birth and marriage papers! On the inside was attached a note from a Second Cousin Gail who apparently had found this records in Mattie Italy and translated them. Luigi Ainardi and Meliana Benetto Ainardi , this was my great grandparents true name. Not Louis Anardi, or Melanie Anardi. I truly did not know what to think; I started to cry and rejoice and had Justin my husband read them to me. As I felt I had just found me.

more later...

- History in the making-

2007-09-23T19:15:00.000-07:00

A short essay written for Darrell Gene Anarde my Father

Crystal Smith Ainardi

“You’re really getting into this?”

Is a response I’ve heard from many family members lately on my hunt of history, including my father. As most of my life I have displayed lukewarm tendencies to everything. It wasn’t until the past few years the passion, or shall we call it obsession I had seen in my family pop out of my mind and into the world.

I had grown an obsession with art, everyone one on my dad’s side of the family was quite artistic or musical. My uncle the guitar player for years, my brother’s new found obsession with guitars and my father the classically trained accordion and piano player, I turned to drawing. Even before that was my grandfather Louie the wood craftsmen. There is something deeper here though, another common thought.

My uncle has a passion for trains old trains and things of that nature; he often says he was born in the wrong century. My brother loves classical books, old languages and histories of the world. My father collects radios old ones, the kind families gathered around for family time before TVs were even brought into the homes.

As a Kid my dad liked to drive me to old cemeteries and landmarks, it scared the crap out of me. Once we went to this old over grown one in Ravensdale WA and I swore I was stepping on dead people I threw those shoes away! The museums and the photos he would point out to me explaining that those people were family.

Then they wonder why I’m really into this?

My father installed in me to never forget the stories, the past, and the history of which made us.