I’ve told elsewhere about my mother’s family story, but in recent exchanges on Life in Abruzzo Group, the subject of embroidery and dowries has come up a few times, so I am taking part of the previously written texts and will elaborate on them for the sake of context.
My mother was born into a family of artisans, starting with her grandfather Giovanni, who was a blacksmith. Not only did he make horseshoes, he also fabricated ornate railings for balconies, light fixtures and furniture, as well as decorative and religious items. Abruzzo is very well known for its blacksmiths and copper smiths, a cultural legacy dating back to the Bourbons that creates a link between places like much of Southern Italy, Spain, France…and even New Orleans. Have you ever seen pictures or footage of Bourbon Street with its ornate railings and balconies? They are very similar to several of the streets in Lanciano!
Giovanni and his wife, Nicoletta, had eight children: Giuseppe, the first born male, and seven other daughters. As was customary at the time, a male son was the dream of every household, so his parents were both heartbroken when he emigrated to the United States at the turn of the last century, where Giuseppe (Uncle Joe) became a successful blacksmith. Needless to say, he had inherited his father’s artistic flair. He lived in a cape cod style home in a lovely neighborhood in Fort Lee, New Jersey with his wife, Mary, who was a seamstress specialized in making fur coats.
Their house was an oasis of happiness for me and my siblings. We used to go there for weekends and vacations, because they were the only relatives my mom had within a 2 hour drive from Norristown Pa. Their home was small, as cape cods usually are, but in my memories it was a mansion. The house was full of neat things, like Uncle Joe’s wrought iron sculptures, decorations, and even furniture. The archway between the dining room and the entranceway was decorated with an intricately fashioned cascade of flowers and grapevines. The front gate on the avenue was a wonder of swirls and flowers, immortalized in this epic photograph that my uncle took of my dad ushering my mother to the property on the day she arrived from Italy in May of 1957. As you can see, Uncle Joe was an artist of photography, as well as a master of moulding and shaping iron according to his will.
Beyond the Horizon 