Crossroads Of Destinies

Both trips to Comune di Orero would reveal a few delightful surprises. On Monday, July 13, we visited our cousin, Anna Sanguineti, in her home (above).  Anna explained to our cab driver, Andrea, that my great-grandfather, Giovanni Bricchetto, had indeed returned to Isolona and was buried in a local cemetery further up the road.

No one in the family could remember what happened to old Giovanni. Legend persists that he was obliged to flee the country after a contentious knife fight with another man during festival week in Isolona. He left Italy in 1899 for the U.S., abandoning his wife and three young children (including my Gramma), and settled in Boston.

In 1912, Maria Arata Bricchetto and her three children (by then ages 19, 16 and 14) would also leave Italy, bound for -- of all places -- Portland, Oregon, where Maria had family. The Aratas were already well established in Stumptown and owned a number of businesses, including a laundry, where Maria and the kids went to work.

Giovanni Bricchetto would not see his family again; that was well established in discussions with my Gramma. What we didn’t know was that he returned to Isolona in 1927, building a house (above) next to the Sanguinetis and living out his life until passing away in 1944. Arriving at the cemetery, it didn’t take long to find his grave.

According to the Sanguinetis, Giovanni Bricchetto corresponded with my Gramma and her brother Paul during the 1930s. As WW II approached, correspondence from Isolona to the U.S. would have been censored due to the fact that Italy was part of the Axis, in league with the likes of Germany and Japan.

On Wednesday, July 15, more surprises. Turns out that Andrea -- our cab driver, navigator and interpreter -- was also a skilled photographer and video producer.  Upon his arrival at the Hotel Columbo, he announced that he would document our trip to visit family in Isolona in the hills of Liguria -- for posterity sake.

Another pleasant surprise: Anna Sanguineti’s sister, Iva, and brother, Andreino, would join us to review old photos of the family in both Italy and the U.S. They had many portraits that my Gramma had sent back of my family, including several heretofore unseen (at least by me) photos of my Mom when she was growing up.

We spent a couple of hours with the Sanguinetis (above). The house is a simple stone and mud exterior, but is well-appointed on the inside, with beautiful hardwood floors and fine furnishings. They fed us lemon pound cake and cookies and we cackled at the speed of light for two hours in three languages: English, Italian and Genovese.

When it was time to leave (the meter was running on our cab), the Sanguinetis gave us parting gifts: several pictures of my grandparents, my Mom and Uncle John (below). Sent to Isolona by my Gramma in the 1930s, the photographs (most shot at Macleay Studio in Portland) would come full circle back to the U.S. after nearly 100 years.

Some might ask: why so much effort on this elaborate treasure hunt? Attribute this compelling need to my grandmother, who valued family above all else, and who always made us feel like we belonged: she was loving and attentive, and invested in all of us. For me, it was always more about the treasure than the hunt: the treasure of family.