...this is my father...

  

we took our second trip up into the mountains

leaving early to attend the 10:00 Mass at S. Anne's

taking the same route we took the first time...
except this time without getting lost in the 'passo cibiana'

last week we thought we were going up the mountains into a valley village like the one above....
surrounded by meadows...mooing with cows... that produced their milk...
to make the world renown gelato...

to sell over the mountains into Germany, Austria, France and Budapest...

to make the living...for the family...as most of the families did in this region 

...but instead of the village we sought being in a valley
we found it at the top of the mountains...
without meadows...

and a century ago, without guard rails or probably even roads...just a trail

                      

                                       

at 9:00 in the morning with a couple 'cappuccini' and the help of our new friend and interpreter, Brother Andrea 

we began our inquiries into the family Pampanin at a little cafe, bar, gelateria...

(how very appropriate)

  

we were so glad this little place was open...so early...on a Sunday morning...in the middle of nowhere

because it was only 19 degrees (F) -7 (C) outside and we had arrived way too early for Mass
since it didn't take us nearly as long to get there this time...
not getting lost or buried under an avalanche and all?!?!
(even after having had to stop for the sheep)

   
                               

by the time we made our way to the little church of S. Anne's ...

there was already a buzz that 'the Americans are looking for Pampanin'

and with a dated photograph from another century the discovery began...

                    

"this man is my father"
...Romano Belfi said as he looked at the photocopy
and pointed to the man at the cart on the right

Bortolo Belfi

[we think Bartolo Belfi is Pappap's cousin (the son of one of Pappap's mother's sisters)]

soon cousins and brothers...were summoned to where we stood in the church...

'the Americans are looking for Pampanin'

a 12 year old boy, Nicholas, whose father is an American joins Brother Andrea 

translating... and listening and trying... 
to keep up with interpreting the dozens of people gathering

the young women we met last week who showed us around their town
Eliza, Lara, and Cornelia

during Mass we notice Lara was an altar server
...one familiar face... 

...everyone around us is offering names and sharing stories and reliving their own recollections 

of the ones we are searching for...the ones who left them...

the ones who went to ...America...'New Jersey'...

...One woman looked at the photocopies of the antique photos we brought along...

and then looked into our faces and hugged both of us to her..and with tears she could not contain...

and a language we could not comprehend...we understood... as she understood... 

that we were somehow connected to 'her ANDREANNA'...

Lanela Belfi, the daughter of one of  Pappap's mother's sisters

                

  

 

these houses are to the left of the church
the lower home with the fresco of Jesus being taken down from the cross and placed in His mother's arms
is the house where Pappap's mother was born

Brother Andrea, Lenela and Antonio Belfi, Romano's brother

Tania Pampanin

Zia Andreanna and Uncle

 ....and so the day followed suit...

words tumbling... tears falling...stories quickly translated

much laughing...way too much food 

and photographs that absolutely shocked and astounded us...

at first we even tried to say...this has to be another family's photo 
it must be a very "traditional pose"

but then we accepted what we held in our hands and saw with our own teary unbelieving eyes

we had Sunday dinner with "Pappap and his girls" 
at the very table with us...

photographs that we did not bring with us...

but that Pappap himself had sent long before 

to his friends and family...

Lenela's mother and Antonio's father...

and they have treasured these precious pictures all these years

they knew exactly where they were and could produce them to show us...

...they didn't have to think about where those old photographs might be 

and then go digging through boxes in the attic...

the photographs they showed us were part of those special things...

you can always get to...

the things of the heart 

that you always know exactly where they are...

  

I want to say this picture was taken the same day as the seated version
but looking at the face I think this might have been taken before Pappap left for the war
and the full length version taken when he returned...
his face just looks so much more mature in the seated version              

   

to see written in Michael J. Pampanin's own hand:

"to the Family Belfi

my girls...

 ages 12 years and six"

and when we held these same pictures of Frank's grandfather and mother in our hands 

in some remote town at the tip of a mountain half way around the world

any notion of time that has passed... any idea of distances that have been traversed

were instantly gone...

we were present...they were present...

and what became so extremely evident was not how the family tree lined up

or who belonged to who

or what your parents names were or dates of birth and death

but

that these people knew our ancestors 

they lived in this same place

and they have memories

and want to share what they remember 

want to tell the stories they have heard ....true or not

things that they haven't thought of for decades...

like the colour of green the dress was that Andreanna sent from the states

the dress Lenela wore to have her passport photo taken 

when she was old enough to go to Germany to work for the summer

like the Hotel Phillipsburg chef's coat

that they sent when Antonio went to Milan to work in a kitchen

or the trip they made together with Zia and uncle to Lombardi, Italy

the home town of Pope Saint John XXIII

they were touched by our very presence

we came from somewhere they remembered from oh so long ago

New Jersey, America

 and they were as intrigued by our questions as we were of them

the greatest moment of the day was having our family photographs 

ones that we have seen before and know so well

shared from a stranger's leather envelope of their own treasured family photos...

connecting disconnected families in a most amazing and astounding way

to meet...your grandfather's childhood friend's children....
boys who grew into grown men together

someone he kept in touch with even after all the many years of 
living, working and being married 
oh so far away

our relatives lived where these people now live

they had friends

like these people have friends

like we have friends

...our fathers and our grandfathers...
...our children and grandchildren...
...and our friends...

all of us

were once children

and lived and will live
lives

just like we live our very own

just perhaps not under ..Mt Pelmo

             

the front of the Restaurant where we shared Sunday dinner

the front of same restaurant...but I don'g know when?!?!?

and lest there be any doubt of the quality of the food on the top of a mountain
this pasta was the best I have had so far...by far...
prosciutto and poppy seeds some kind of wonderful cheese and olive oil
simply...delicious....mmmmm

                         

    

  

a child shooting hoops into that hoop soon learns to have good aim!!?!?
there's no running down over the cliff to retrieve the ball
yes, there is a 'net' around the play yard...but it stops just a bit over the backstop

...my bad...