by C. D'Angelo
“Morning, Mr. Granza.”
“Hey,” I say flatly, including both of my parents. I can’t put my finger on it, but something about the way my mom is cooking seems strange. She looks up and smiles at both of us briefly, but her usual sparkle when cooking, a little bounce of some sort, is absent. This morning feels different. With all my training to observe others’ behaviors, I have learned to trust my instincts when I notice a changed sense with someone. My non-therapist friends think I overanalyze, but as time continues, they see more and more that I am spot on.
I go over and hug my mom. Maybe she is still distraught from last night’s, err, spat. I may have been too rough on her. I still have it on my mind, but was able to get a good night’s sleep and woke up ready to move forward. The disagreement between us was one of many in my lifetime, and I am sure many more to come.
“Hi, Rachel. Did you sleep well?” Mom murmurs out, while flipping the bacon forcefully.
I make sure to stand next to her and give direct eye contact and a smile. She manages to smile back and appears happy. I’m glad. I don’t want to leave on that note.
The chit chat lasts through breakfast. Nobody mentions the family history topic, but it is all that I can think about this morning. At least I am leaving on good terms with my parents. In a few hours, we will be back in the city and I will be back on my search.
Chapter 11
We walk into the apartment and I turn on the computer right away. I can’t wait to research again using the new facts my dad gave me last night. I’ve used multiple sites for my searches, but Ancestry.com has international information, just what I need. That’s my first stop. I type the website into the browser and grab the list I made on the train ride home.
Family facts
Grandpa was born in 1902, died in 1998
Great-Uncle Vince died in 1983, probably was born in 1900
Grandpa had a sister and half-sister, names unknown
His mom and sister never came to the US (why?)
Grandpa came to the US with his family in 1916, age 14; Great-Uncle Vince at age 16 (probably)
They were from Genoa, Italy (northern Italy- very important!)
My great-grandpa’s name was Gino
These ancestry sites are confusing. I swear a million names come up when I enter my grandpa’s name. I have a little more to work with now, but there are still so many fields as options to narrow down the results. Do I enter in exact years? Allow date ranges? Set it to exact names? Let it choose alternate spellings? Which type of record do I want to find? Do I try birth certificates? Marriage certificates? Death certificates? A census? Oh, the options.
I start by entering Grandpa’s name and birth year, knowing the year is accurate now. One thousand one hundred and forty-seven results populate. That’s nothing compared to the first searches I did so I can handle it.
Hmm, the 1940 census looks like a good place to start. It just released today the site states, so it’s the newest census available to view. What luck! Maybe it’s a sign I’m on the right track. I read there are rules for when censuses can be released, for privacy purposes. Well, I’ll take whatever’s offered.
As the image of the 1940 census loads, my heart pounds louder and louder. My grandpa’s name is right in the middle of the page. “This is amazing! There he is! There’s his name!
“Salvatore Granza.” I can’t help but yell it out. A sense of relief washes over me. I instantly picture his face. Oh, how I miss him.
Next to his name, there is a lot of information that I didn’t realize would be on a census. It shows all kinds of elements of his life, like his education level (“4,” meaning fourth grade), place of birth (“ITALY,” spelled in all capital letters, making me feel its importance), residence (“Philadelphia, PA”), and job (“business”). My grandma’s name is there too. Under “Children,” my Uncle Tonio is listed as a four-year-old child. My dad wasn’t born yet but would be soon after this year. So, there is the little family, all existing together in that 1940 census.
Great-Uncle Vince is listed under Grandpa’s immediate family as well. There’s a woman’s name after his, which had to be his wife. More children are listed after them. Wow, that is a lot of people in one house. My grandpa and his brother worked together and lived together?! I can’t imagine that much time with anyone—especially not my brother. I’d die. But, I wish that time was able to come to life for a minute. Even a second. I’d take a flash in time to be able to see them and meet those I never did, co-existing together in harmony.
I don’t expect to see Great-Grandpa Gino’s name on the census, since Dad told me he died shortly after they arrived in New York. There’s a part of me that mourns not having proof of his existence. I’m alive, so obviously he lived, but still, I want to see the documentation for the purpose of pleasure. Maybe I can find him in an earlier census.
My mind wanders to how life may have been for my family in 1940—the long hours at the tailor shop, the crying kids at home, the packed house, and many mouths to feed. My family had one of the strongest work ethics around, and now I know they must have had plenty of patience too. Patience doesn’t come naturally in my personal life, maybe because I save it all for my clients. Add it to my list of needed self-improvements.
I try to look further back in time, but the 1930 census isn’t providing any new information. The same family members were together at that time. The next census I analyze is from 1920, and this one leads to something captivating. Now that I know what to look for, I easily find my grandpa and his brother, but only them. Was their dad already deceased at that time? Even though I never got to meet him, I feel another moment of sadness and loss. I can’t imagine growing up without a dad. Grandpa was so young at that time and to not have his dad after traveling from a foreign land—I can’t fathom it. He was only eighteen years old in this census year.
The other interesting piece of news here is that Grandpa and Great-Uncle Vince are listed under another person’s family name in this census—the Serafinos. Who were they? Did we have family in the US after all? Why wouldn’t my grandpa’s immediate family have lived alone? Great-Uncle Vince was surely old enough at that time. I mean, they had the tailoring business that Great-Grandpa Gino started here.
As the search goes on, I realize I keep thinking of more and more questions, but the answers aren’t there. When I find one bit of information, three more questions come to mind.
Before I know it, it’s time for bed. Family history research is the biggest time sucker I’ve ever experienced, which is all fine and dandy, but I want my answers now. Remember, patience.
Chapter 12
It feels like I have been away from work for years, but it’s only been three days. When I walk into the office, Annabelle’s wacky outfit of the day strikes me as…pretty? Her sparkly pink bangles and hot pink heels make me smile. Most days, I cringe at her clothing choices. What is happening to me? Her office is the epitome of disorganization though. To be able to have it all together but also be this chaotic blows my mind.
My workload is light today because of a few no shows to appointments, so I’m able to sneak in some random ancestry searches between clients. I can’t say it’s the most productive way to search though. This project is the ultimate internet rabbit hole. But something tells me it would not be professional to ask a child to wait to pour their heart out because I need to search for another name in my family line.
Hold that sadness inside about being bullied, little Aiden. I need to just check one more thing over here.
I giggle at the absurdity.
Even though that doesn’t happen, the pile of client notes is happening. Every little thing I do requires a note for insurance purposes. Calls, referrals, sessions, consultations, parent contacts, teacher contacts, and treatment planning all require documentation. It stacks up quickly. I wish I could devote twenty-four seven to my new cause, but li
fe isn’t that luxurious.
I hear a loud thud and a flutter of papers from Annabelle’s office. I’m sure another pile of folders fell from her desk.
She barges in moments later, never remembering I don’t like that, and sits down on a chair on the other side of my desk. “Hey, I saw your door is cracked so I thought I’d—ohhh, sorry. I did it again.” She starts to get up, but I hold out my hand.
“No worries. I just haven’t slept well so I’m a little out of it. Sorry if I look like a mess.”
“Please. Have you taken a gander at my office today? Hurricane Annabelle tore through at a Cat 5 level today. I need professional help to organize it. And you never need to apologize for anything. You know that.” She kicks off her heels and gets cozy in the chair. “Why didn’t you sleep?”
“I think I did sleep, but I don’t feel rested. It’s so annoying—among other stuff.” I don’t dare make eye contact because she’s too good of a therapist and she’ll be able to read my face.
“So, what are you talking about? Spill it.”
I didn’t plan on having any deep discussions today, but I’ve worked with her long enough to know she won’t give up that easily. “I just haven’t felt much like myself lately, well, for a while.” I scribble as I talk.
“We all go through changes, my friend. It’s okay.”
“No, I think it’s been a little more than normal bad days and life changes for me. I think I may be almost mildly depressed, stuck in a rut. Whatever it is, I feel like I need to take action or I’ll get worse and might not realize it.” I pause to see if Annabelle has caught on yet, but lose my nerve and hurry on. “But I found a new hobby that has been helping me a lot. My spirits are higher and I’ve got something to focus on again.”
There, I said it. I feel relief in being honest with her. I don’t want to be fake anymore.
She leans forward in the chair. “Oh sweetie, I had no idea. I’m a horrible office mate and friend.”
“No, Ann, don’t go there. Unless you knew to look for something, you probably wouldn’t see it. I love seeing the kids and try to be my best self when here. Poor Brian takes the brunt of it. And Maggie. And my family. Ugh.” I cover my face with my hands. “I’m so irritable outside of work and I hate that about myself. But I get all anxious and…”
Annabelle brings me the tissue box and gives me a hug. “I’m here for you. Just know that. And all that guilt is just part of the deal when you feel this way. You know that too, but I’m reminding you.” She bends down to try to make eye contact and flashes a slight smile my way.
“Thanks. Like I said, I started doing something I think may help. I just get shaky sometimes, with fluctuations in my mood. It’s so exasperating, but now I understand my clients a lot more.”
“What are you doing for the new hobby? Can I help in any way?”
“You’re so sweet. I’m trying to find out about my family history. My grandpa never spoke about his childhood. I think if I can learn a few things about him, it will help me to have a firmer sense of myself. You know how much I looked up to him.”
“Oh, yes! That’s great. I’m so glad to hear you have been doing some self-care. And as for however you think you are acting with your loved ones, I’m sure they understand. Don’t let that guilt consume you.” She laughs at the clinical sternness of her speech, I assume, and it makes me giggle a little as well.
“You’re the best. Thanks. I’m glad I told you.”
“It’s the first step in healing to admit the problem.” She laughs.
I flash a toothless smile, still heavy in my heart from saying my status out loud.
“But seriously, Rachel, you know you can talk to me any time. I can always use a distraction. Maybe we can go to lunch together more often. We can try to set our schedules to coincide better. Or, ooh, we can try to go out after work or on the weekend—”
“Annabelle! It’s still me and the normal Rachel doesn’t even have the desire for all that. Well, only sometimes. But I do appreciate it. Maybe if I can get out of my head a bit more, I’ll take you up on that.”
“Okay with me. I just want to help you to steer clear of the slippery slope. You don’t have to deal with this by yourself. I’m here. Please talk to Brian and Maggie as well if you need to. You are far from alone.”
“Thanks. I think if I didn’t change something in my life and find this new interest, things would have gotten worse. So, let’s continue to hope I find more answers. I have glimpses of happiness and want that all the time again.”
She hugs me again and looks directly into my eyes. “Yes, I believe you will.”
“Keep telling me that!” I need to tell myself that as well.
I will know the answers. I will know. I never needed an encouraging mantra as much as right now.
Ah, it’s finally time. I’m in my pajamas, have my herbal tea, and my laptop is ready to work.
My only plans for tonight are to comb through the search results for anyone with the surnames of Granza and Serafino combined with the first names that I recognize from the census records. I have to make sure more paper trails lead to my family, and God forbid not another Salvatore Granza.
As time ticks on, I am seeing how easy it is to go down the wrong path in Genealogy World. Welcome to the amusement park where time is lost and rides lead you in circles. Enjoy.
Before I know it, there could be a whole line of people who aren’t related to me because of one person with a similar name on my list. I don’t want to fall into that trap. And, let me tell you, Salvatore Granza is like John Smith in the Italian world—so common that it would be simple to mistake another man for the right Salvatore.
There are so many strange forms that populate here tonight. What are these? Some files look like pages ripped straight out of an old phone book, ragged edges and all. The poor person who had to scan all of these in here. Jeez.
This is another weird document that keeps coming up for me. It consists of only last names and occupations—some are jobs I never even knew existed. Brogger? Packman? I assume that’s not related to the game. But anyway, there are multiple Granzas listed in these papers.
Guess what name I can’t find, though. Those elusive Serafinos. Is looking for them a waste of time? I hope not because I have to find out why my grandpa was listed with them in that census. It just doesn’t make sense and this is yet another unanswered question.
The process of searching for answers is a huge mess, feeling like more than I can handle right now. I shut my laptop and rub my eyes.
“Oh, Harrison, it’s time for bed.” I give him a quick pet and go to my bedroom.
Virtual ancestry documents are scattered across a sea of confusion, sucking me below sea level and I need some air. I plop down on the bed and sigh. Family history research is exhausting.
There are so many routes to take. Some lead to nothing, while some lead to information that could be helpful, but I never know right away. Still others must lead to what I believe is the pirate’s treasure on the deep-sea floor. I will find that chest, damn it. I will.
Cue the mantra.
Chapter 13
Saturday comes faster and slower than I imagined. Although the week dragged, it also flew by because I was so busy at work and exhausted at home. I had to DVR numerous Titanic specials because of my new rule not to watch Titanic related shows after a late hour, as well as continuing to search and search…and search for family information. I will be set with so many Titanic programs about its one hundredth sinking anniversary this weekend that I will have shows to watch for a month. Maybe more, if I’m lucky.
No, seriously. How can I pass up the countless facts I could learn? There are shows about how the Titanic was built, why and how it sunk, how researchers found the wreckage on the ocean floor, people protesting the visitors there, and many political undertones of the time like class separation, coal strike
s, and more. And don’t even get me started on new theories about how the disaster could have ever happened in the first place. It’s way beyond simply hitting an iceberg, believe me. There are new theories for how it could have happened, including my Titanic idol’s miraging theory. Oh yes, I have a Titanic idol. Are you surprised? His name is Tim Maltin. Look up his research. You’ll be fascinated for hours, I swear.
I take the TV remote and lay on the couch, cozy under my knitted blanket and ready for documentary action. Spoken like a true nerd, I know. Harrison comes over to share the warmth, so I invite him on the couch by patting the extra space.
I’ll allow myself to get sucked into the mystique today to try to relax from the week. I have to prepare for tonight’s extravaganza anyway.
“It will be a TOD day, Harrison,” I say and hug him, now laying in front of me on the cushion.
My excited heart beats faster as I think about diving into a TV special or two, or three, or four. I continue to pet my little buddy and take a deep breath. What a switch from most of my week.
“Rach, look at you!”
I twirl in front of Brian and try to hide my smile. “This old thing?”
“I’m glad you are feeling more festive tonight because I took the liberty of making reservations at…a restaurant.”
“You can’t say the name? It’s a surprise restaurant?”
“Someone at work told me about this Italian place near the movie theater. I looked at their menu and thought you would love it.”
“That’s a lot of effort for tonight. I, um, thank you.” My mouth hangs open.
“I know seeing Titanic in 3D means a lot to you, so I wanted to make it even more special.” He stands and wraps his arms around me then gives me a quick kiss before pulling me to the door. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be late.”
When we get to the restaurant, I sigh a breath of relief. It’s quaint and a little fancier than I expected but feels like a perfect choice. Wait, am I dressy enough though?