A HISTORY THAT IS NOT A TALL TALE

A STORY THAT IS HISTORY

(Published on June 14, 1997, with the permission of the Author)

I know that it was about eighteen hundred and seventy-something. In a spot in Calabria in far away Italy, one night a group of boys were lying on the grass looking at the clear sky, sprinkled with stars. The boys were talking, dreaming.

"Do you know that way down to the south in the Americas there is a new country called Uruguay, which is progressing fast and there is work for everyone who goes there?"

"Yes, the children of Fulano and Zutano* went last year and the news that the families has received is very good."

"Well, why don't we go, what are we doing here, we will vegetate away our whole lives here...."

In another place on the beautiful Amalfi coast, very close to Naples, two little sisters, young girls, small, delicate, fragile, or rather fragile looking, read a letter from the Americas, from Montevideo.

"Girls, ask your father's permission and come to this city which is small but very pleasant, there is work here for everyone and many countrymen who wish to marry and settle down", their sister wrote them.

Time passed and Gennarino and Mariuccia arrived at Montevideo separately. They found a city that was happy, sunny, and welcoming; the city was still lit with gas, kerosene, and candles at night.

One day, by the will of God or of man, Gennarino and Mariuccia met, fell in love, and married. At the Cathedral their marriage document is still preserved, a marriage that began with love and the desire to found a humble home, but fortified with the unceasing work of both.

I think that Col. Lorenzo Latorre was President of the Republic then.

In those days, every so often there were some fights between brothers, without foreign intervention of any sort, fights that had as their fundamental objective the good and the growth of the Country. But Gennarino and Mariuccia only devoted themselves to their work and to the care of their first-born son, who came to bless their home. They gave him three names, in remembrance of three other relatives. They lived near Maldonado and Ciudadela streets, on the sunny side of the street.

Gennarino worked from dawn till dusk as a shoe repair man, in the hallway or on the sidewalk in the sun.

"Don Gennaro, my mother asks how much will you charge me to put on half a sole and heels on these shoes."

"Well...ten centimes."

"Can't you reduce it by one centime since today is your Saint's Day?"

"Fine, come by the day after tomorrow."

"No, Don Gennaro, please, I need them for tomorrow, otherwise I will have to go barefoot...."

"Fine, come 'round tomorrow."

Gennarino thought -It's true that today is my Saint's Day, Mariuccia woke me up early and congratulated me. She promised to make "confetti pasta." But it is not right to eat dessert every day. Sundays is when we can do that and that is sufficient. He remembered when he was in Italy and once went to Naples to visit the Saint and saw the "miracle", the blood was boiling.

"Don Gennaro, I am here for the shoes."

"Here you are, take them."

"Thank you. When my father gets paid I'll pay you the nine centimes."

"Don't forget to come to pa...." The boy was already far away clutching the shoes to his chest.

The years passed, Gennaro and Mariuccia crossed the square and moved near Ciudadela and Paraná streets.

The family grew, well, I think they had about nine children. The older ones helped care for the younger ones. Those who could, worked at something and everything they earned they gave to their mother. But basically they had to go to school. Once, someone played hooky. Gennaro found out and waited for the "malefactor" with his belt strap. When the candidate arrived, as soon as he saw her coming, he ran toward his mother. She, small as she was, placed herself in front of the child like a shield with her arms half raised and said: "Gennaro, pardon him this time." "No Sir, my children have to study and prepare themselves to be someone in life, if not, then all our work and sacrifice means nothing." "Well, just this once let him be, and he won't do it again."

Gennaro continued working hard, always at his bench, working, working away at the shoes. But it happens that he was a man given to homilies and was consulted by his countrymen. Every so often someone arrived with a problem for him to solve.

"Gennaro, today a cousin of mine is arriving from Italy and he needs a job...."

"Well, bring him 'round and we'll see what we can do."

"Gennaro, Pascale and José have had an argument and now they are not speaking to each other. For the good of both of them we have to solve this problem."

"Don't worry, on Sunday I'll settle things."

Because Gennaro worked all week from sunrise to sunset, but Sundays were special. They say he put on his best clothes and a wide-brimmed hat on his curly head and went to meet with his friends. At those meetings he resolved all the problems that came up, so much so that among them there was a very popular saying, that summed it all up: "Gennaro can solve it," so his word was law.

Nearby Ciudadela there lived a brilliant Attorney, a great statesman, very respected by both political parties of the time, who had also started a big family.

The children of the shoe repair man and the Lawyer became great friends and many were the times when at the humble table of the former, there was almost always one of the children of the latter. Naturally also at the house of the Lawyer the children of the shoemaker were very well received!

Because Montevideo was like that in those days.

More years passed, now Mariuccia had a daughter who helped her with the housework, the children continued to study, working, all of them had the same chances, without differences of any sort. Later each one followed his own best path, with varying degrees of luck....

No, luck does not exist. Ninety percent of that idea we have to make ourselves, with our own effort, our own sacrifice, our own work, as Gennaro and Mariuccia did in their time and their world. Because no one made it easy for them.....

One day Mariuccia crossed the patio going to the dining room, with an enormous plate of "fusilli".

"Mother, mother, I am an Engineer, I am an Engineer," the oldest son entered saying.

Later she recounted: "My knees felt weak from emotion and happiness and I almost dropped the plate of pasta."

That day there was great happiness at the home of the shoe repair man. All celebrated the brother's accomplishment as though it were their own, that he had finished his degree.

I think that at that time he was the youngest Engineering graduate, only 21!!

When lunch was over, Gennaro said to the eldest:

"Have a cigarette, now that you are an Engineer you may smoke with me."

And the second and the third sons asked to smoke also.

"Father, me too."

"Careful, you two will be allowed to smoke in front of your mother on the day you marry."

"O.K. That's fine Papa."

Naturally there was great rejoicing among the countrymen and friends of the family. THE SON OF THE SHOE REPAIR MAN WAS AN ENGINEER!!!!!

This was very celebrated. Somewhere around is a photo of the time in which the newly-minted professional is honored, surrounded by his father, brothers and friends, all proud of his accomplishment.

But in the deepest part of this is the determination of Gennaro and Mariuccia that their children would be someone in life. All have achieved that, to a greater or lesser degree. Already in those faraway years, the shoe repair man and his family were respected.

The years continued to pass, some children had already married and started their own families. Gennaro by now no longer had to work, because his children to a greater or lesser degree all pitched in to help maintain the big house. Mariuccia continued running the house energetically. Her hair was as white as snow, she looked like a doll swathed in innumerable petticoats, she seemed fragile but she managed her house and her unmarried children with vigor. When one who had stayed out late did not get up in time for lunch, there she was, she took off the covers and gave him a few playful slaps, which were more caresses than anything else.

I even remember that when some small problem happened at the house of one of her married children, Mariuccia would arrive, as though by chance, and I don't know how, but she generally left things resolved. Her daughters-in-law adored her.

Grandchildren began to arrive at the big table which had gradually begun to empty, a few more leaves had to be added. On Sundays it was a fiesta for the children to go have pasta at the home of the grandparents. At the announcement "pasta is ready" all had to be already seated.

And on another day another son came running in.

"Mother, mother, I'm a Doctor, I'm a Doctor...."

"Well," said Mariuccia, with tears of emotion and happiness, "at least now I have someone to cure me, because to take care of me, all of you take care of me."

About 100 years passed. Many remain in memory, but the seed planted by Gennaro and Mariuccia has given its fruits. For various generations that family branched out. Now the great-grandchildren began to arrive, but all of those who were and all who are continued to form one single BLOCK.

We see each other infrequently, we love each other a great deal, and it is sufficient for there to be a call from any member of the family for all to run and stand by him.

The family name of Gennaro was never stained and today as before, in our society it is as respected as the most respected are, because we do not allow nor will we allow ourselves to have it any other way. We bear it like a standard, high and with pride.

_________________________

* Note:  corresponds to "John Doe" or "Tom, Dick and Harry"

Author:

Ruben Carcavallo - 1975

Gennarino and Mariuccia were my great-grandparents

Judith Corsino Carcavallo