My mother got her first passport as a newborn and left her homeland at six-weeks old.
Her father was a “swallow,” a Sicilian man who left his family behind while he went to the new world to earn money for what they hoped would be a better future.
Antonio first came to America in 1908 to lay the brick streets of New York City. He lived with a gaggle of male relatives in a crowded appartment in “Little Italy,” where they desperately saved every penny and sent most of it home. Eventually, they headed west to Chicago for more construction projects. While there, Antonio visited Chicago’s Field Museum where he saw his first airplane: the Wright brother’s original plane on display.
He returned to the homeland in 1920 to find a bride, father a little girl, and look for work. His nest egg was good-sized by Italian standards and he looked forward to a comfortable life in the homeland.
Alas, it was not to be. No jobs were available to a smart uneducated engineer. So he returned to the United States (he had become a citizen in 1918) and worked feverishly to save more cash.
Again, he returned to the lovely city on the Mediterranean Sea and hoped for the best.
No work.
He fathered my uncle Frank and then, leaving my pregnant grandmother behind with two small children, headed back to North America, this time for good. Once the baby was born, Fortunata would get passports (at the US embassay in Messina) and head to America–which is where she wanted to be anyway.
Prohibition was in full effect when Fortunata set out. She was ill all the way across the ocean, barely able to care for her infant while nine-year-old Rosie tended the mischievous toddler. They landed in Philadelphia, where they went through immigration and then were released to a relieved Antonio.
Who was shocked to discover a bottle of champagne in the baby’s diaper.
“If they had found this, they would have returned you and the children to Italy. What were you thinking?”
It was a farewell gift from the family. Obviously, the overwhelmed Fortunata wasn’t thinking at all.
They rode the train across the country to a chicken farm in southern California where my mother grew up.
They were not wealthy, but full of dreams. For Fortunata, one of the biggest dreams was a future for her children–particularly an education that would open the world to them.
All three children fulfilled Fortunata and Antonio’s hopes for a new life in a new world. My Mom graduated from UCLA, married my father, and became a teacher.
At the age of 40, she got her second passport–which she used to take her children back to Sicily to see her birthplace.
She returned to that warm town beside the sea fifteen years later with her siblings.
And when she died at the age of 64, she and my father had visited more than 100 countries.
The beginning of Mom’s future came from her parent’s hopes for a new life and their determination to give that opportunity to their children. The 1931 passport was only the first key.
Happy birthday, Mom.
Where did your first passport take you?
Again you made me have tears in my eyes
To Nice, France. I had my 7th birthday on the ship going over. My father was to be stationed in the Mediterranean. I remember the way tea smelled and pink “bananas”. I remember a little about the appearance of the street on which we lived. My mother decided after a short stay she would prefer to be stateside near her family while he was gone; and so we returned to the United States.
I want to cry….this was LOVELY!!
My first passport took me to the Amazon Jungle, to an army base an hour from Manaus. Deep in the heart of heat, humidity and more bugs and creepy crawlies than I care to remember. Ahhh, the noise at night . AMAZING.
Fascinating, Jennifer! Have you read Ann Patchett’s recent book State of Wonder? Takes place in same locale and is thick with whirling insect wings!
No, I had no idea that was what the book was about!
I loved the jungle, it was just so unreal. Tree pythons, cockroaches the size of your shoe, yes, your shoe! Tarantulas crawling up people. Monsoons every day at 3pm.
And I wouldn’t go back there it you paid me. 🙂
I don’t know that Ann Patchett would either! Eva Ibbotson also wrote a story that took place I. Manaus. Who would guess that I’d read the two books written about that odd part of the world that has an elaborate opera house!
To England! Christmas of 2000. Id’ been to both Canada and Mexico, but neither required a passport then.
My family is from Milazzo, a town on a northeastern peninsula from which you embark to the Iole Isole.It’s about an hour by autostrada to Messina.
My first passport, by the way, took me to Milazzo (and other points in Europe) when I was 13. 🙂
A beautiful tribute to your family, Michelle.
My first passport took me to Marsala (Trapani) on the west coast of Sicily. The family I stayed with took me to see Palermo and other Sicilian sights. What town on the Mediterranean did your family return to?
To Paris! I was 17 and had just graduated from high school in the small town of South Onondaga, NY. Too small, too rural for me at the time. I had to get away and see the world. Not long after, I joined the army and ended up in Wuerzburg, Germany.
Thanks for sharing this bittersweet memory.
My first passport took me to Germany to spend a month with my father’s friends Gunther and Brigitta Schneewind. While staying with them I was able to visit the Netherlands (Belgium, Luxembourg) and Paris with a small German tour company.
My mom’s family came from Norway and I understand that the Norwegian immigrant experience was much like that of Antonio and other Italians. Many men hoped to be able
to get on their feet and return to the home country.
Loved this entry! I didn’t get a passport until I was 26 years old. As my present from my parents upon graduation from graduate school, I went to Mexico and travelled around for a couple of months. It was one of the best times in my life. Now, at 40+, I can appreciate my mom’s apprehension about a single girl traveling alone in Mexico. At the time, however, I had no fear.
Michelle, the opera house was the one place I didn’t get to see. Which bums me out, even 28 years later!
One of the things I’m most proud to say is “I have gone swimming in the Amazon RIver”.. Nobody I know can say that, which is kind of neat.
But the jungle sounds? It was like 40 people were in the trees saying “shhhhh” really quietly and shaking a wooden rattle. And when Tim Hawkins sings his fire ant song? I can relate.
NEVER wear sandals in the jungle.
Lovely post, Michelle 🙂 I’ve never had a passport. Hubby and I were in Canada one day of our honeymoon, but that was back before a passport was needed (1986). Never been on a plane, either — we’re homebodies 😉
My niece, however, who turned 21 this month, has been on every continent except Australia and Antarctica. Our travels are vicarious through her and others’ experiences 🙂
I enjoy visiting your blog, though I haven’t commented before. Always engaging reading 🙂