The following is a personal story that I want to tell about a family member. Please bear with me as I occupy your screens for a few minutes. For some, that may be too long. Don't expect typical John Castagna witticisms or satire. It's not that kind of story, but I do want to tell it. The story involves VIRGILIO CASAGRANDE, born in Gubbio (Perugia) in 1899. Just recently, John Giacoletti was kind enough to mention Gubbio in one of his postings about various towns. It is a beautiful walled town of over 16 thousand people, plus quite a few tourists, and it is the site of one of Italy's largest and most exciting spectacles (the Festa di Ceri) each year on May 15. If you are ever in the region of Umbria, DO NOT miss seeing Gubbio. Virgilio was born on a small sharecropper farm about 4 km outside the walls of Gubbio to a family of five brothers and one sister. There must have also been a bunch of prolific cousins, because today's telephone directory for Gubbio includes a total of 110 CASAGRANDE listings. Not much can be told about Virgilio's childhood in Gubbio. It must have been a difficult one. The family had little more than what they could grow in the fields (after sharing their crops with the Padrone), and Virgilio was afflicted with a childhood disease (probably polio) which left him with a slight limp. Virgilio tended sheep in the nearby mountains for his family and other families nearby. He would stay in the mountains while the sheep grazed, with no more than a piece of bread and, perhaps, some cheese to eat. The lure of money to be earned in the coal mines of West Virginia, brought Virgilio to the U.S. in 1921. He worked those mines in their 1920s heyday, later moving to the town of Jessup, PA and the promise of further work in eastern Pennsylvania's mines around Scranton. Meanwhile, Jessup had become the new home of so many ex-patriot Gubbini who had come to the U.S. There, he met and married Concetta (Jennie) Gambucci, whose family had come from the Umbrian town of Costacciaro (Perugia), not far from Gubbio. Their marriage produced only one child, Dolores, because Jennie suffered from the debilitating kidney disease, nephritis, which eventually took her life in 1969 at age 62. The coal mines were punishing to work in. Besides the everyday dangers and poor working conditions, there was the Black Lung disease, to which all coal miners eventually succumbed, in one way or another. Virgilio put up with that life until the late 1930s, when he left the mines to drive a truck delivering beer in the Jessup area. About 10 years ago, we took him on the coal mine tour in Scranton, where he was in his glory, reminiscing about all the underground activities that immediately became familiar again to him. The further promise of a better life took him to New York in the early 1940s, where he and one of Jennie's cousins started a small hotel business that sustained the family and allowed for a decent apartment in Rego Park, Queens, then considered to be "out in the country" to many New Yorkers. The culture shock of the move from small-town Pennsylvania to New York City was overwhelming, particularly to Dolores, just starting high school. Incidentally, Dolores and I met in the late 1950s, while working for the same company in New York, and we were married in 1959. But, this story is not about us or our 38-year marriage. Someone else owned the land and building on West 49th Street where Virgilio's Hotel Jessup was situated. There was no lease, and no ownership beyond the meager furniture in this 5-story walkup hotel. So when the property was razed to make way for new office buildings near the Headquarters Plaza complex, Virgilio and his partner were left with nothing, other than having been able to support their families for the years since leaving Jessup, PA. After a short period of handyman work in New York's Nassau County, Virgilio retired. It was about that time that Dolores and I had returned to the U.S. after living and working for awhile in Mexico, and we bought a home in New Jersey in 1966 jointly with Virgilio and Jennie. Someone had to plant the tomatoes, the basil, the parsley, the peppers and the beans. That became Virgilio's pride and joy. I never did come to understand his old world rules regarding when to plant, depending upon a certain number of days before or after a full moon. I usually prefer to get my vegetables at the supermarket where I don't have to worry about the lunar cycle. 1997 was the first year that Virgilio did not feel up to sitting on his chair in the middle of the garden, giving orders, as my son-in-law turned over the soil and planted the tomatoes for him. This year, Dolores gave the orders for Virgilio. Another joy came from bowling. We started Virgilio bowling when he was almost 60. At age 68, we had him join our mixed bowling league. He was in that league until he was 88 years old and, at the time, may have been the oldest league bowler in New Jersey's Morris County. Virgilio particularly liked getting kissed by the women on his team whenever he got a strike, and also kissing them when they got a strike. You know how Italians like to kiss! Every month or so, Virgilio would make the two-hour drive alone to Jessup, PA. He would stay in a local hotel and visit his friends and relatives (as well as his brother in Scranton) for 3-4 days, before returning home. In later years, after so many attempts at convincing him that it WAS proper, he began staying at the house of a very close friend of the family, a widow, whom we always referred to as Virgilio's girlfriend. He made that drive himself (although less and less frequent) until he was 92 years old. Except for his "girlfriend" (who is now getting close to 90) there were less and less friends and relatives to visit each year. Unfortunately, people who live to a ripe old age spend the last third of their lives seeing their friends and relatives pass away on a fairly regular basis. Every few years, until Virgilio was in his early 80s, he would go and spend a month or so in Gubbio, where much of his family remained. Only his younger brother, Giovanni (Ninetto), came to the U.S. also. Ninetto (formerly in Scranton) is now 92 and living in Pittsburgh. Except for a brother who died as a child, it must have been good stock that produced those CASAGRANDEs. His older sister, Adolfa (Dolfina), lived to age 81. Older brothers Primo and Roberto lived to ages 92 and 90. Had it not been for the unnerving experience caused by the theft of one of Virgilio's bags, containing his cancer medication, from a locked car in Ostia (near Rome), he probably would have made further trips there. Within 24 hours of that theft, we had a new prescription over-nighted from New York to Milan. From there, the Milan police carried it practically cross-country to a well-connected cousin in Rimini, who then drove it to Gubbio where Virgilio had already arrived by train. Virgilio is now 97. He will be 98 (we hope) this coming October. He has survived two cases of pulmonary embolisms (caused by phlebitis), an auto accident (not his fault) which totaled his car, and lymphoma, all since he was 80. He now is somewhat immobile from arthritis in his foot and numerous brushes with heart failure (he has a pacemaker) from water in his lungs. We no longer feel comfortable leaving him home alone for more that a few minutes, although he does get around slowly with a walker, makes his own breakfast and lunch, and looks forward to visits from his only great-granddaughter. Television is now his prime activity: the late evening mass, Wheel of Fortune, and the Yankee games, among others. He misses being able to eat pizza, certain pasta dishes, grated cheese, Italian sausage, and so many other things which are no longer allowed him. Of course, it is wonderful to have a loved one around for so long, but sad to see them deteriorate so. A year or two ago, Virgilio looked like a 75-year old man. Today, he looks like an 85-year old man. Very soon, he will probably look very close to his age, but he will fight it all the way. On Sunday, like he has done for so many years, he dyed his own hair brown, and mine is all gray. John Castagna ccastag@ix.netcom.com 29 May 1997
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