I've spent the last week cleaning the basement and clearing out the junk that we've accumulated throughout the years. As I was moving pieces of furniture, I came upon this trunk. It's always been there, buried beneath my stash of wrapping paper, gift bags, and streamers. The rusted top is disintegrating and crumbles to the touch. The delicate paper that lines the inside peels and falls away as the tiniest spider creeps across its surface. The trunk has seen better days, that's for sure. Actually, it's seen better decades. In the early 1900s, my great grandfather, Francesco DePinto, and his wife, Angelina packed their belongings into this trunk. Together with their 5 daughters and one son, they left the life they knew in Bari, Italy and crossed the Atlantic Ocean to begin a new life in America.
Seated in the front row, left to right:
Rose, Pasquale ,"Patsy", the only son. He died in the influenza outbreak of 1918, Francesco, Angelina, my grandmother Esther (her name was Pasque, which is Italian for Easter. When she arrived in America, there was a mix up in the paperwork and Pasque became Easter, which was misunderstood to be Esther, which is how she was known from then on), Mary
Standing in the back, left to right:
Francis, James (the husband of Theresa), Theresa