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Both of my fathers' parents were immigrants from Italy; my grandmother from Palermo, Sicily and my grandfather from a small village near Naples that bears my surname. I loved hearing stories from my grandfather while he was alive (he died in 1994 at age 99) about his life and how he met my grandmother. My cousins and I got together one evening many years ago and decided to tape my grandfather telling us the story of his life. I am so thankful that we did and that we each have a cassette of that family history; however, I have yet to transcribe it. I know it's silly that it has been so many years, but I think I may finally be able to listen to it and hear to his voice again. I was very close to him.
My grandmother (whose picture is above) Ester, died when I was four, but I can still remember going through her jewelry box and being mesmerized by all the sparking pins and necklaces that she had. I have some of those pieces now, which I treasure. I know that this is where my love of jewelry began. Even back then, I felt that it was such a priviledge to be given the "permission" to go through her jewelry box, especially since I was so young. I only wish that she had lived long enough that I could have known her better. It tugs at my heartstrings when I remember those family members who were so important to me who have passed, but I hold onto the promise that we will be reunited one day and hold on to that, especially the older I get. It does bring me a sense of peace.