Internet (though briefly)

My Genealogical Hometown

I visited the Sicilian city of Palermo for the better part of Saturday morning. We arrived via a Ferry from Naples to spend a few days in Sicily. Sicily was a large bull’s-eye on my list of places because it is the birthplace of my great grandmother, Josephine (Guiseppa) Ciaramitaro.

She was spent the first four years of her life here before finding her way to New York with her family. She lived to a ripe-old (literally) age of 105 before she got to “meet her Jesus.” Our family used to make trips to visit her whenever we could. We would go and listen to her many stories about life. She was also known for making hilarious comments and side notes to her great grandchildren (my brother especially) and nurses.

I still remember the day we found out of her passing quite well. My mom was talking on the phone when another call interrupted her conversation. She went upstairs for a certain period of time, and then came down to inform the rest of our family of great grandma’s passing. As soon as the words left my mom’s mouth, I remember her bursting into tears. Despite the hope of seeing her again, my mother was grieved by the loss of the wonderful memories and love she shared with her grandmother. To this day, I miss the days of paying her visits, but my brief time in her hometown brought back those wonderful days.

Unfortunately, my attempts to retrieve her birth certificate failed when I was forbidden access to the Palermo municipal building. However, I decided to do some people watching with my spare time. Quickly I felt like I was back at with my mother’s family once again. Familiar facial expressions, physical features, greetings, and mannerisms flooding the streets I was perusing. Obviously I had no idea what was being said, but I could not help but smile.

Along the way, I took some photos to try and capture what life might have been like for my great grandmother. Some were captured in her hometown, while others in Monreale. Monreale was the location of the archdiocese where her family would have traveled to at least for the major holidays, if not more.

Here is a cup of cappuccino from a café in her hometown. It was quite tasty.

A fruit stand on the way home from church.

I doubt I even saw anything my great grandmother knew, but I don’t really care. The simple fact of trekking through the place of her earliest years was enough excitement to last me a lifetime.