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Tap-Roots

2008; Wolters Kluwer; Volume: 30; Issue: 15 Linguagem: Inglês

10.1097/01.cot.0000335047.51059.15

1548-4688

Joseph V. Simone,

FigureA visit to one's ancestral homeland often evokes a special feeling that is complex and difficult to describe. This effect depends on many things, of course, such as how many generations one is removed from that geography, whether that culture was sustained to a degree by parents and grandparents, and whether that culture created a lasting positive imprint. My own parents were born in Italy, my father in Puglia at the heel of the Italian boot and my mother in Sicily, near Taormina. They met in America and sustained many of their cultural traditions in food, celebrations, and family dynamics, all of which have made a lasting positive imprint on my sister and me. I wrote a column for the June 25th issue in anticipation of the journey of 15 members of my extended family to Sicily, where I still have cousins. The trip was wonderful in many respects, but surprising, as well. We flew to Rome and then a short flight to Catania on Sicily's east coast. We rented four cars and drove for about an hour to Gaggi, a small (non-tourist) town west of Taormina, which became our main shopping destination. It is nestled in picturesque mountains and is connected to a series of similar towns via serpentine and notoriously narrow roads. A mile beyond was our “home,” Villa Due Angeli. The ancient villa (parts were built 500 years ago) has several connected apartments that accommodated all 15 of us, a pool, and lush vegetation, including lemon trees and many flowers. The covered patio had a long table where all of us had our meals. There were only two activities that all 15 of us did together—dinner every night and visits with family and friends. Otherwise, the 15 broke up into small groups that changed from day to day for shopping, hiking, lounging, or exploring the region. Three experiences capture the significance of our trip, one geological and two social. Mount Etna We could see Mount Etna from several vantage points around the villa and from our favorite coffee bar in Gaggi. In fact, if the weather is right, one can see the mountain from many places in the region. The volcano is active with a constant cloud of steam boiling out of its peak. Mountains are beautiful, but a mountain that is visibly alive increases the wonderment exponentially. With its enormous power on permanent display, the potential danger is evident and raises one's sensitivity and respect for this force of nature. The trip up the side of Etna is also amazing. It is covered in ash that has been bulldozed to make roads. In some areas the ground is very warm from the heat of lava beneath. The crowning memory of Etna was imprinted during our pre-dawn drive to the airport for our departure. It was pitch dark and as we passed through the town of Giarre on the Autostrada, we could clearly see four rivers of orange and red lava pouring down on the side of Etna. “Awesome,” my granddaughter said. For once that cliché was appropriate. Mother's Birthplace A few days after our arrival, our four-car caravan drove back down the valley and then 10 miles up another winding road to Limina, my mother's birthplace, a town of about 1,000. I was greeted by my cousin Marcello, a surgeon, and his brother Nino, the town baker. We embraced and our families did the same. We walked to the bakery to greet Nino's wife. Their bread is so uniquely good that their main customers are supermarkets. We then walked to Marcello's house where we were greeted by his wife and other family members and had soft drinks and coffee.FigureFigure: Previous page: Beautiful vista of Taormino, Sicily. Above, top: Joe Simone (in the middle) and the 14 members of his extended family who joined him on the trip, standing on the terrace of Villa Due Angeli, with a backdrop of the Sicilian hills and the next small town up the mountain; Bottom, Left: His older cousin Carmelo holding a photo of the wedding of Joe's parents in America in 1934; Right: Joe and Dr. Giuseppe Longo.FigureThe emotional high point of the visit came next. We all walked to an area with old, unoccupied row houses where an older cousin, Carmello, pointed out the house my grandmother lived in. The 300 square-foot one-room ground level was used for animals and the same space on the second level accommodated four or more family members. We then walked to a similar one-room house where my mother was born and grew up in. There was no indoor plumbing or source of water in either place. In my mother's time they used the town's communal oven for baking bread. We quietly contemplated my mother's hard life and the challenge of starting over in America. We—30 in all—then went to a local restaurant for a festive and satisfying lunch of many courses and with kids running around and everyone eating, drinking, laughing, and talking. Only my oldest daughter and I spoke some Italian, and the Italians spoke little English, but all managed to communicate well enough to express our happiness and joy with being together. We left with the warm feeling of having touched a previously hidden and pleasant extension of ourselves, of our roots and “new” members of our extended family. Pleasant Surprise One week before our departure, at this year's ASCO annual meeting in Chicago, I ran into an old friend, Joe Bertino. In the course of conversation I told him I was about to leave for Taormina. He said he had a fellow from there who was just then getting ready to return and he urged me to make contact with him. I didn't think much of this but Joe sent me the fellow's e-mail address and soon afterward, the fellow, Dr. Giuseppe Longo, sent me an e-mail and asked me to call him after I arrived, which I did. He invited me to attend a “typical Sicilian family Sunday lunch” on the next Sunday. I said I would love to accept, but there were 15 of us and we would overwhelm the party. His wife, Tania, later phoned and said, “of course all of you are welcome…we are a big family and there will be children the same age as in your family.” So on Sunday we took the Autostrada to Giarre and pulled over after the toll exit, our agreed-upon meeting place. By chance, we pulled in right behind Giuseppe's car. I had never met him but he recognized me and he and his daughter, Caterina, joined us and we embraced. The cars emptied and everyone got acquainted (Giuseppe, his wife and children all spoke excellent English). My teenaged niece, Grace, was charmed by Giuseppe's teenaged daughter, Caterina, and her perfect English and my teenaged grandson was charmed by her Sicilian beauty. We then followed Giuseppe's car up the mountain on winding, narrow roads, crossed a very narrow one-lane stone bridge, perhaps built by the Romans, and made a sharp turn into a courtyard. There we saw a modern summer house surrounded by a shaded patio. From the front terrace there was a spectacular view of the Mediterranean Sea and the town of Giarre below. We were welcomed warmly by Giuseppe's large extended family. Luigi, Giuseppe's father-in-law, walked us to the adjacent orchards where we sampled several varieties of ripe cherries, peaches, and mulberries. We were more than 30 in all, and both families mingled seamlessly and had animated conversations in English and Italian, and the kids played volleyball. My daughters Pattie and Julie talked with three women in their 40s, their own age: Rosalina works for UNICEF, Patrizia is a professor of geology, and Gaetana (Tanya) is a teacher, like Julie. They shared the interesting parts of their jobs, the joys and challenges of parenting and working, and the positives and negatives of their cultures. Next it was time to eat a sumptuous Sicilian lunch: pasta with wild fennel, fresh sardines, raisins, and pine nuts; Sicilian caponata (eggplant and other vegetables cooked in olive oil and served cold as an antipasto) with a surprise of tender potatoes; a timballo (baked in a pastry form) of pasta alla Norma (named for the famous opera by the Sicilian, Vincenzo Bellini) with eggplant slices layered over the top; creamy rice timballo covered with zucchini slices; a variety of sausages, and all followed with gelato and cannoli. After five hours when I signaled our clan that it was time to leave, Giuseppe said, “No, you can't go, we are just getting started.” With regrets, I insisted. One must work up to those marathon lunches gradually. We had similar Sunday meals when I was growing up, but I was “in shape” then. So we concluded a totally unexpected, unique and very special day that, astonishingly, was the result of a chance encounter with Joe Bertino. We made new friends and “joined” a new family. These wonderful people welcomed complete strangers into their home as if we did this regularly; their warm kindness touched all of us deeply. This was more than a vacation for us. There was something primal about our experience. It was as if we had deep tap-roots in the soil that connected at that basic level with family, friends, and with Sicily—ancient, often embattled, and indescribably beautiful. Its culture, its people, and their deep-rooted family ties affected us as if Etna had baptized us with its lava and changed our lives forever.