*Disclaimer: Everything quoted by my grandparents was translated from Italian
"They in every respect represent a love more true than a fairytale."
A photo I took of my grandparents trying to imitate the romantic bears I bought for my grandpa's 80th birthday.
I was always captivated by how my grandparents loved each other. Their love was more profound than "ti amo"; their actions demonstrated their love. My grandma would tell me, "I could tell how much he loved me by the way he looked at me." My heart always melted hearing this because I can recall that romantic gaze. I remember those precious moments when my grandma would sing a light-hearted, classical Italian song to help my cousin and me fall asleep. Mid-song, I would hear footsteps and suddenly find my grandpa leaning on the doorframe admiring her. She has a beautiful voice, but I don't think that's the only reason he looked at her as if she were his treasure.
No matter how long they'd been together, my grandpa always gazed at my grandma with his determined, ocean-blue eyes as if he was seeing true beauty for the first time. Whether from photos of my grandparents from the 1960s or what I witnessed, the perception that my grandma was the most beautiful person in the world never faded. I grew accustomed to their love, but now, I realize their love was more profound than I could ever have imagined.
My family tells me I have my grandpa's eyes. At first, I just thought of this as a shared characteristic; however, once my grandpa passed away, I started to appreciate the significance of sharing that with him. My grandma would tell me that "Out of all the cousins, your eyes resemble grandpa's the most." Though I shed many tears for my grandpa, I felt proud that I could see part of him when I looked in the mirror. While I felt pride, I also felt sorrow. Even now, when I look at my grandma, I'm sure she's reminded of he who gazed at her with such admiration, the eyes of her one true love. She treasures the reminder, but whenever we FaceTime or see each other, I recognize her as she is reminded of the unconditional love she shared on earth.
Though I grew up in New York, my parents sent me to Sicily for one month each year to visit my grandparents and extended family. I remember tossing and turning from excitement the night before my flight. I remember my brothers and me jumping excitedly on the plane as we discussed strategies for the next soccer tournament against our cousins: Italians versus Americans. But most importantly, I looked forward to seeing my grandparents past the sliding doors of the baggage claim. My brothers would always get annoyed at me because instead of waiting for the luggage, I would sneak to the sliding doors to find them, like a spy on a mission. Every time someone exited the baggage claim, the sliding doors would open for five seconds. That left me little time to scan the cluster of people anxiously waiting for their respective guests. It was tough, but I always managed to recognize the bright, silver, curly hair (a look my grandma pulled off effortlessly) and my grandpa's bright blue eyes. They were always holding each other's hands, a united front.
Sicily was – and still is – my second home, where I've experienced some of my happiest memories. My grandma taught me how to cook delicious Sicilian food and always made time to hear about my friendship or boy drama. My grandpa would always go on walks or take me to eat the Sicilian classic: granita and brioche. My grandma would get upset with my grandpa for eating the third granita of the day (he had to lose weight!), but my grandpa always chuckled as he wittily replied, "But Francesca won't eat this when she goes back to New York." It was our little secret mission that I always looked forward to.
While thinking about our granita and brioche excursions, I was teleported back to one of the funniest memories with my grandparents. Our whole family – 23 of us, to be exact – were eating dessert around the long, white table on the deck. She prepared him a cup of ice cream. In the blink of an eye, he finished it and poured more. My grandma noticed and started yelling at him to put the ice cream back. All of us had already started dying of laughter. Then, my grandma accidentally spilled her glass of water and tried to splash the spilled water across the table to my grandpa. With one look at each other, my grandparents laughed, too – that's all it took. I am certain we accidentally woke the neighbors up from their afternoon nap.
At the time, the doctor told my grandma that my grandpa needed to lose weight as he was still recovering from being run over by two cars (he had a great recovery, thankfully!). One would think that with all my grandma has been through, it would be easy. Wrong! Limiting the amount of dessert my grandpa ate was my grandma's biggest challenge because he was obsessed with desserts (especially chocolate). My cousin told me that my grandpa hid chocolate in his office whenever my grandma visited. My family once jokingly bought my grandpa the largest Hershey's chocolate bar for his birthday, and after he ate one piece, my grandma hid it! When my family learned what she had done, we cracked up together. My grandpa was sad when he found out, but upon seeing everyone's smiles and laughter, the chocolate was a distant memory. Why sulk about chocolate when you can share a laugh with the family you constructed with your love?
That's how my grandparents always were – loving. They could have been angry with each other, but every argument ended in laughter. It doesn't mean they didn't have harsh arguments; rather, they surmounted them together. Also, no matter what hardship anybody was going through, love always outshone the darkness. Just as they brought so much laughter, their love spread to us like wildfire. A hug managed to cheer us up; their loving and prideful gazes melted our hearts. We were surrounded by love, which contributed to many sentimental memories.
When my grandpa left us, we were left with a large, dark void. My grandma's love radiates to us all, but we can tell that part of her left with him. She lost her other half, the man she loved and shared her life with for 60 years. Honestly, I cried writing this as memories of their shared happiness was genuinely remarkable, and I would do anything for my grandpa to return and see them reunited. They, in every respect, represent a love more true than a fairytale love story.
A photo of my grandparents celebrating my grandma's birthday!
I used to take my grandparents’ presence for granted. I thought they would always be with me, so why bother asking questions about their past? Whenever I woke up from a midday nap and saw my cousins playing a board game and my grandpa sitting on the porch reading a book and looking at the ocean, I would run to my cousins without hesitation. Yes – my grandpa was there to talk, but why ask him now if I can later?
Honestly, if I hadn’t developed a particular interest in studying Italy during World War II in ninth grade, I would have never thought to ask my grandparents about their history. But sometimes, the world works mysteriously. World War II was my starting point as I asked questions like, “What was it like living in Sicily during World War II?” “Was it scary?” “Do you have any particular memories?”
As my interest in history grew, I also developed a girl’s daydream and nightmare: an interest in boys. So I dipped my toes into dating, expecting the romance I saw in movies and witnessed for so many years. I couldn’t wait for someone to look at me the same way my grandpa gazed at my grandma.
Unfortunately, my expectations did not resemble reality. Looking back, I tell myself, well, duh… it’s teenage boys. What do you expect? I started normalizing disappointment until I talked to my grandma about it. She responded with a memorable conviction, “If the person is right for you and knows they love you, they will treat you with love and respect like no other. Don’t ever settle for less”. I nod but think, it’s easier said than done, and it’s easy for my grandma to say. Despite my doubts, her conviction never left my mind.
I was forced to ask myself: was their experience an anomaly, or could that be me one day?
A photo of my grandma looking lovingly at my grandpa as they attend my cousin's wedding.
Since then, I have spent less time playing and more time talking to my grandparents. I grew curious about every aspect of their lives: how they met, why they loved each other, what their wedding was like, and more.
My grandparents were some of the most loving people in my life. Their affectionate gazes were contagious, and they supported me at every stage – good and bad. When my grandpa passed away, my dad told me he always saw something special in me. Even now, my grandma ends every call saying I'm special. Despite my perplexity, my heart overflows with pride. My grandparents' perception of me always matters. They are my role models.
When I started learning about their love story, I expected it to be more linear: they met, started dating, fell in love, got married, and had kids. I understood that couples have arguments and problems and assumed their biggest challenges consisted of petty jealousy or something along those lines. But I never anticipated half the stories they shared with me. My grandparents aren't an ordinary couple. The challenges they endured would have torn many couples apart, but with their love, they managed to surmount every mountain together.
While I can't get my grandpa's perspective, my grandma is ready to share their story with me.
Besides my curiosity, I am writing this for my readers. My grandparents' story makes me hopeful about love. I desire my readers to feel the same and understand that such love still exists. Yes – we live in a different era, meaning that dating differs from the 1950s, but the raw emotion of love still exists within us. At least, that's what I believe. Maybe you can, too!
My grandparents are the epitome of love and respect to me, but I wonder how they became this to each other. Their love was one-of-a-kind, which blossomed into a beautifully large family. Thus, I decided to combine what I already knew about my grandparents with what I didn't know. Everything that you are reading now is my journey to learning about my grandparents' love story: that of strife and sacrifice.
A photo of my grandpa looking lovingly at my grandma as the three of us take a photo!
"'... it wasn't easy, but it certainly was worth it.'"
My desire to share my grandparents' story budded in August 2018. My grandma, parents, and brothers squeezed into my grandma’s white Nissan, driving to my grandpa’s funeral. We all wore colorful outfits because my grandma believed that wearing black was mournful; we were celebrating his afterlife. After all, as my grandma told us, “We will miss him here, but we will see him later.”
We sat in silence for 20 minutes. I was leaning my head on the window, mourning, but admiring the beauty of Sicily. This is where my grandpa was born and lived his whole life. He had a beautiful life. They shared a beautiful life. Suddenly, my grandma gasped and told us to look up at the sky. We turned our heads toward my side of the car and saw a beautiful, vibrant, rainbow. I tear up for the millionth time today, but that time, they stung more because I knew he was with us.
After seeing my grandpa, I felt in my heart the urge to ask my grandma: “Was it easy?” My grandma looked at me from the rearview mirror, smiled, and said, “Not always, but it was worth it.” For the rest of the ride, she told us how my grandpa’s mom despised her and tried many things, such as paying a friend to propose to her, performing an exorcism on my grandpa, starting fights between my grandparents, and much more to break them up. I was shocked and yearned to hear more, but my grandma replied, “Let’s talk about it another time.”
A few days later, my grandma found a birthday card I had written for my grandpa when I was ten years old. It was filled with rainbows. My heart tightened as I held the card, remembering how seeing him on that drive. It felt so special.
The next day, my grandma looked at me and told me my eyes were identical to my grandpa’s. I teared up but felt a newfound connection to my grandparents. If I had his eyes, then I should see the beauty of their love as he saw it. I noticed the unlikeness of their life and knew my family and the world needed to hear it.
Guiltily looking back, I knew I had let time slip away. I made sure to consistently call my grandma, but I didn’t ask her about their love often enough. We only addressed it a few times when I happened to look through old photos with her.
After publishing my first book in July 2022, I felt a unique power; I could communicate what matters to me with writing. When I last visited my grandma in August 2022, I gifted her a copy, and she elatedly and proudly flipped through the pages. Upon seeing the joy in her eyes, something clicked:
I needed to write about my grandparents' love story.
It was destiny. My Minor in Writing Capstone began the first week of January 2023 and provided me the perfect opportunity to start fulfilling what I envisioned in August 2018. The time I would have dedicated to doing something else in the course now opened up for me to interview my grandma, research Sicilian history, and write about my findings; I could finally put my foot through the door and start.
I can’t write a book in three months, but this is just the start.
A photo my cousin took for me of a collection of photos when my grandparents were young. My grandma keeps it at her house.
Before proceeding, I needed to write a proposal to help me understand what I wanted to write and how much time I could realistically allocate to creating a biography of my grandparents' love story.
I revisited some of my favorite biographies, such as “Dutch Girl: Audrey Hepburn and World War II,” by Robert Matzen, to learn methods an “outsider” could use to write about someone else’s life. Moreover, the book discusses World War II, which I aimed to do. Finally, there is the bonus that my grandma and I are obsessed with Audrey Hepburn (literally).
Writing the proposal taught me the complexities of writing about the history of someone else’s life. For example, one must learn about the historical and social contexts of the time. In my case, I needed to learn about the following: (1) the history of Barons in Sicily, (2) Sicilian Barons in the early-mid 1900s and their relation to others, and (3) Sicily during World War II.
To fully understand these topics, I turned to various resources, including books, videos, and others who were knowledgeable on the subject. I began by researching people I could contact since it was the most time-consuming; I needed to email, wait for a reply, and find a time to meet. I ended up calling my other grandma – Nonna Francesca (mom’s side) – and emailing Dr. Antonio DiRenzo and Dr. Karla Mallette.
"... writing about the history of someone else's life required knowledge about the historical and social contexts."
Before this project, I had already learned about some of the challenges my grandparents experienced. For example, once, my grandma and I were looking through the old photos that she had stored until my grandpa passed away. She wanted to revisit and share with the family some of their fondest memories. With every photo, a story followed suit. When my grandma saw me eying a photo of them next to a Fiat 500 (photo on the Home Page), she smiled, handed it to me, and told me that was one of their favorite cars. She then talked about their dancing excursions to Taormina in that very car.
I remember asking how they started dating, but the details from that conversation were quite fuzzy. What remains most vivid was how my grandpa’s parents despised my grandma; they would go to great lengths – such as kicking my grandpa out or performing an exorcism on him – to separate my grandparents. I distinctly asked my grandma: “How could someone despise such beautiful love, and how on earth could they ever be disappointed in my grandpa when he was so in love and built such a beautiful family?” She replied that it was because of her family’s wealth and status. My grandpa was born into a very wealthy and affluent family in Sicily who held baron status, while my grandma struggled more financially. I asked her why the title mattered, and she replied she didn't know. What left her more perplexed was that her family also had ancestors that were barons. She then explained that the reason for the hatred could be because her family didn’t care about the title anymore (like the majority of Sicilians). I wondered to myself: How could it be possible that such a divide is caused by wealth and different attitudes toward the same title?
I left these conversations thinking that money was the crux of their challenges, but after explaining to my dad my idea for the project, he told me that the strife between my grandpa’s parents and my grandma went beyond money; the history of barons strongly influenced their relationship. He showed me the De Geronimo family tree that he tried constructing, and the baron ring, which had the De Geronimo family stem imprinted on it. He explained that it had been passed down to the eldest son since the late 1700s.
My dad admitted that the information he offered was quite limited because he started this research after my grandpa (who had much of the information needed) passed away, but for me, it was a good starting point. He went on to explain that my grandpa’s side of the family has a large history of barons who went from Spain between the 14th and 15th centuries to the Kingdom of Sicily while it was under Spanish rule (Gotti, 2001; Mendola, 2010; Trips 2 Italy, 2020). My ancestors took possession of the feud, li Muni (limoni), which is part of Lentini, Sicily. On April 7th, 1776, D. Biagio De Geronimo was given the Baron title after he acquired half the feud of li Muni on February 8th, 1765.
While this information certainly helped, the project really started feeling feasible when he remembered a letter that he photocopied from my grandma’s apartment and held in a folder dedicated to my grandpa. When he opened the folder, he handed me a picture of the letter that my grandpa’s dad had written a week after my grandpa was born. My dad offered to read it to me, and I answered, “Is that even a question – absolutely!”. And so, he read it: (translated from Italian):
Lentini twenty-fifth August one thousand nine hundred and thirty-seven -
With this autographed will, I, the undersigned, Avv.to Giovanni de Geronimo fu Federico, cancel all my other previous testamentary dispositions and establish my last will as follows: I establish my deast son Federico De GeronimoBeneventano as the universal heir of my entire movable and real estate assests. I establish my beloved wife Maria Beneventano della Corte, as usufructuary heir of all my movable and real estate assets, provided that she does not remarry, in which case she will be usufructuary heir only of the share due to her by law as surviving spouse.
---I also rule that if my dearest son Federico, having come of age, will pass to a just and decorous marriage, in this case, my beloved wife given above will have to cede to him half the usufruct to her as linked above.
— I ardently wish that my Maria never remarries. ---
I'm sure that, living our Federico, he will dedicate his every thought and his whole life to ensure that he grows up healthy, honest, and hardworking, and to take care of, conserve and increase what I have for so many years, with pure will and soul, with tenacious work and constant self-denial I created and kept for him. --- I have such immense esteem and trust in her --- Both missions (my "ardent desire" and her "maternal duty") are luminously suited to the most pure nobility of her sentiment and to her great precious goodness. ... she is truly worthy of it ... nor in any other way could she more nobly dedicate and offer all of Herself to God: it is a sacred gift, a divine Privilege that few beings in earthly life can know how to understand, feel, implement and enjoy. ---
To her, that I loved so deeply, and to my dear little Federico, I sincerely wish a peaceful existence ---
Lentini 25 August 1937 – Avv.to Giovanni de Geronimo was Federico
When my dad finished reading the letter, he chuckled. All it took was one look to see how shocked I was. I understood that my grandpa’s parents didn’t like my grandma because she was not wealthy and not of high enough status, but I did not know that there must have been another underlying, selfish, reason: my grandpa’s mom would lose half the usufruct. Admittedly though, I was also left confused because the letter is so loving and sounded like my grandpa’s dad expressed a kind of love that would not break for money. I guess he was influenced by my grandpa’s mom more over certain aspects.
I was now pumped and excited to learn more about my ancestors, but my hopes sank after several hours on Google. I assumed that my dad could barely find information because he did not have the time, but I soon learned that there was nothing beyond what he already researched. The only places that seemed hopeful in providing me with information about the rest of Grandpa’s family tree were requesting payments, which was not feasible. Moreover, the stem my dad found online is different from the one on the Baron ring, so we cannot guarantee that everything online is accurate. I was slightly frustrated and upset that I couldn’t think to do this before my grandpa passed away, but as my grandpa always told me, “Do not fret about the past and do what you need to do in the present.”
Rather than remaining frustrated, I shifted my focus to learning about the history of Baronhood in Sicily. My goal was to form an idea of the environment and attitude my grandpa likely grew up with. I was excited to start this journey, but I soon realized that learning about Sicilian Baronhood is complicated, headache-inducing, and nearly impossible to do alone in such a short period of time.
I first watched a 12-minute Youtube video of the history of Sicily prior to its unification with the rest of Italy. I knew that the Baronhood title came from Medieval Sicily, but I did not understand what it meant beyond that. I assumed that watching this video would give me an idea of where the barons came from and what cultures Sicily absorbed. I ended up learning that Sicilians were conquered by several colonizers, but the barons came from Spain. These facts made me optimistic because, according to Google, my last name (De Geronimo) stems from the Spanish name Di Girolamo.
Despite linking where my ancestors came from, I was still left with the most important questions: (1) Who were barons, (2) Why did the baron titles exist, (3) What was their purpose, and (4) Why did this title matter to my grandpa’s parents. I tried looking for articles on Google Scholar and many websites, but there were very limited snippets of information. I learned who barons were, but I could not find what they were like in Sicily nor anything pertaining to their privileges and purposes. So, I decided it was time to reach out to the people that would point me in the right direction for the answers I needed.
I first reached out to my other grandma (Nonna Francesca; my mom’s mom from Milan), who was a history teacher most of her life. Nonna Francesca predominately studied Italian history, which made me confident that she could clearly explain the history and point me to resources. While my grandma is a wonderful resource and grandma, we approached the conversation keeping in mind the potential negative bias that northern Italians held toward Southern Italy (especially Sicily).
Nonna Francesca explained the basic history from the beginning of feudalism in Europe to the social and economic effects of baron hood in Sicily today. The Sicilian ruling class (including barons) really started taking shape during the Spanish domination from 1409-1713. The barons and clergy were the predominant elements of Sicilian society during the medieval period; however, many Italians, especially those from the North, held a very negative view of Sicily’s ruling class during Spanish domination. For example, Nonna Francesca noted that the barons were very selfish and only cared about living a life of luxury rather than taking care of public affairs. I was shocked to learn this because it doesn't remotely resemble any family values that my grandparents passed down to my dad, me, or anyone else in the family. After, though, I felt a sense of pride because my grandpa departed from that mentality.
Unfortunately, from what I knew about his parents, their mentality likely resembled the one Nonna Francesca described. They lived a life of luxury and primarily focused on only maintaining connections with those of similar status.
Interestingly, Nonna Francesca noted that the nobility only cared about themselves and refused to unite and think about the common good of Sicily, making it more economically and socially behind than Northern Italy. Therefore, the nobility resorted to any means to fight against the poor, so that they could maintain their lavish lifestyles. This perception felt harsh, at first, but I learned that she was right in many respects.
After video-calling Nonna Francesca, I decided to expand more on what she said. It was hard to find because few people do this research, but after several hours sitting of research, I finally found one story: that of King Peter of Argon and Baroness Machalda. King Peter ruled Argon from July 1276 and became king of Sicily from 1282 until his death in 1285. At the time, he – like many others – was fully aware that he could not count on the Sicilian barons. He was especially warned about Baron Alaimo of Lentini and his wife, Machalda. When King Peter arrived at the little village of Santa Lucia to spend the night, he was exhausted and needed rest. To his surprise, he found Machalda waiting for him. While she noted she intended to bring the keys of Catania, in reality, she intended to become the royal mistress. Since King Peter was loyal to his wife, he escaped, but Machalda did not appreciate it. After this encounter, Machalda loudly voiced her jealousy of the queen and did all she could to influence her husband against King Peter and his wife.
After I read this, Dr. DiRenzo’s (Professor from Ithaca College) words came back to me: “You might think some of the things they [the barons] did were fake, but trust me, they are real.” I don’t doubt the reality of what happened, but I was still shocked at how accurate Nonna Francesca’s portrayal of barons was. This was one story, however, so I needed to dig more to get a more complete view of barons before proceeding with my interviews.
In later times, the spread of the ideas of the French Revolution generated fear in the privileged classes, as it marked the bringing of an innovative movement regarding the need to transform the Kingdom of Sicily into a liberal-constitutional monarchy; eventually, a need to reform the feudal order began to emerge. During this time, the barons depended on their local allies, mostly in Palermo, to maintain their power and wealth. While the nobility and church enjoyed privileges and exemptions, the artisan guilds (maestranze) also enjoyed their legal protection. For example, they could set prices, limit memberships to their associations, and have the right to bear arms and hunt in the areas around Palermo. They also acted as a local police force and civic guard.
Moreover, the common people (basso popolo) of Palermo weren't always enemies of baronial rule because, despite the feudal duels and refusal for them to invest in baronial wealth, the barons threw lavish parties, from wedding fests to firework displays. Reformers at this time were outraged by the parties because they believed it was a waste of money that should have been spent on improving administration and agriculture. These parties were extremely extravagant as they oftentimes incorporated brass band concerts, displayed vast amounts of Sicilian art, and sometimes baked 365 different cakes – each representing a saint in the calendar. Wow.
While it seemed like an act of kindness, the entertainment was often held for political reasons. Since there was no unity among nobility families due to feuds and family rivalries, they depended on the alliance with the maestranze. If the maestranze decided to rebel against the barons and join the urban poor, the nobility would have to run away. What better way to keep them happy than throwing lavish parties? I could think of a few…
Amid the tension between nobility, reformists, and the lower classes, the Constitution of 1812 – often defined as “monarchy restrict” – was drafted and promulgated. In this Constitution, Feudalism and feudal rights were abolished. From a political point of view, Sicily became a constitutional monarchy with strong aristocratic characteristics. Parliament held the legislative power and the power to levy taxes, leaving the right of sanction to the king. Executive power rested with the king, but ministers were accountable to Parliament. However, the social and economic repercussions still exist today.
Learning about the negative history of the barons and Nonna Francesca telling me that being in a family with a baron title is not necessarily something to be proud of, left me emotionally turbulent. Is this my family’s history? Were my great-grandparents like this? Thankfully, these perplexed thoughts were brief because, my grandparents NEVER once resembled such a past, which actually made me proud. My grandpa chose love, and choice shifted our family’s dynamic positively. I always appreciated their love, but I realized that I also needed to be grateful. Without their sacrifices, I would have never witnessed such love, and I wonder if I would have had the same freedom to find love. If my grandpa chose status over love, would he have forced the same on his children?
Simultaneously, Dr. Antonio DiRenzo replied to my email, and we scheduled a Zoom meeting shortly after. I reached out to him because he published a book, “Trinacria: A Tale of Bourbon Sicily,” which is a tale that draws on his family’s history of Sicilian nobility. Though he wrote a fictional story, I believe that our histories align.
Dr. DiRenzo has been so welcoming since our first Zoom meeting. We introduced ourselves and then took the next hour discussing my project and goals. Dr. DiRenzo explained a similar, more pessimistic view of the barons as Nonna Francesca but with a more optimistic perception and tone. He agreed that the barons did horrible and crazy things, but that’s part of Sicilian history; it’s what contributed to today’s Sicily. He noted that Sicily would not be what it is today if it weren’t for the barons. Many scholars, like Nonna Francesca and Dr. DiRenzo, interpret this as Sicily being less developed; however, Dr. DiRenzo also noted that this was a time when history was very rich and contributed to the cultural and artistic beauty of Sicily today.
The most important lesson Dr. DiRenzo taught me during our first meeting was that barons were not the greatest people. He cautiously noted, “Sicilian barons did things that were not great, but remember that you are not that, and what they did was a long time ago and separated from you.” He then told me to read his book to get a better understanding of some of the crazy things barons did, and once I finished it, we could talk again. I ended the call a little anxious about what I may read, but for the most part, I was so excited. I was ready to see a more complete and complex picture of barons and Sicilian nobility.
At this point, I felt much more confident with my knowledge of the history of barons and was ready to call my grandma.
A photo of the letter. As you can see, it was torn apart, but my grandpa taped it back together years later.
A screenshot of all the information my dad collected before I started working on this project.
"'... you might think some of the things they [the barons] did were fake, but trust me, they were real.'"
"'... he broke up with her... then he found me.'"
I was nervous about my first interview with my grandma. We talk often and are very close, but it’s hard opening up such a delicate conversation. My grandparents shared a strong love; time doesn’t heal the pain of separation. I recognize that, and therefore wanted to tread the interviews delicately.
I video-called my grandma on WhatsApp, and she answered with her infamous smile that always filled me with reassurance and love. I started recording and had a Google Doc open for notes.
We did our typical check-ins, updating each other on our lives. I told my grandma about how the stress of finishing up the final year of college and how I was anxiously waiting for replies from graduate school. My grandma then told me that she had a busy day in the countryside at her orange farm. We said our usual saying, “It’s better to be busy than not.” We share our drive to work hard and our preference to stay busy. Then, my grandma took control of the interview and dived into everything that she wanted to share. I prepared questions, but I did not need them; she came prepared.
My grandma started by sharing her memories from World War II. Though my grandparents didn’t meet then, learning about her childhood helped shed light on the economic disparities between my grandparents and the economic hardships caused by the war.
My grandma was born on June 17, 1939, on the eve of World War II, and was the second eldest of seven siblings. She lived in an apartment complex that held her whole extended family. The apartment was passed down from a Nicotra (my grandma’s family) with the baron title, but by the time my grandma was born, the title didn’t matter to her family. Indeed, the only family crest that represented the family since feudalism was in their house, engraved under the dining table. It was part of their family history, but not their identity. As my grandma noted, “My dad always valued people by what they do, not who they are. Everyone earns each other’s respect”. She added that this was different from my grandpa’s parents because his parents valued their title and lived a very wealthy life; to my grandpa’s parents, money and titles defined you – not work – which relates to the attitudes of barons during Medieval Sicily.
World War II was a difficult time for my grandma’s family (as with most families). She remembers frequently waking up in the middle of the night to sirens warning citizens that planes were about to bomb the city. Everyone in the building rushed to the garage and waited until the bombing ended, praying they were not going to get hit. My grandma still remembers the sound of the planes coming closer to the ground and dropping bombs. It was scary, but eventually was normalized to it as she said, “It happened often, and eventually you got used to it.” When I heard her say this, I was angered because nobody should be normalized to bombings. It’s not okay. Thankfully, the apartment complex was never bombed.
Eventually, my grandma’s family moved to Sant’Alfio – a small village on the volcano, Etna – because my grandpa’s dad was scared to live in the city and wanted to be further from the war. Though they escaped some aspects of war, the Nazis were still cruel to the people at Sant’Alfio, often stealing and tormenting people.
My grandma noted that during this time, her family also owned a beautiful villa in campagna (the countryside). During Nazi occupation, the Nazis raided and occupied their home to make ammunition. One day, from Sant’Alfio, they saw a large explosion from afar. My grandma remembers seeing the panic on her dad’s face and him immediately biking over because he knew that the explosion was near their villa. She then told me that he had found everything destroyed. His primary focus was on recovering some food because they often only ate rationed bread once daily. Unfortunately, he could not recover any food. My grandma said that it didn’t matter as much because he recovered her favorite doll and a cart for her older brother, Salvatore. She remembers the joy she felt holding her doll again. The doll was her only toy; her family couldn’t afford anything else.
I remember the sadness in my grandma’s eyes as she reflected on the hardships of WWII, but her aura shifted as her eyes glistened, and a smile swiftly followed while recalling a particular memory. While she was in the countryside during the war, her mom was expecting her fourth child. To get checked by the doctor, she would have to bike an hour from the countryside to the city. It was long and hard, her mom was a resilient woman. When her mom was in labor, since there was no hospital, she delivered her baby in a fish cart. My grandma started laughing while saying, “Looking back, it’s funny,” but she switched to a more serious tone and added that she was telling me this story to show the economic and social hardships during WWII. Hearing this, I wish I had met my great-grandma. I idolize my grandma and deeply appreciate and resonate with her values, so imagine meeting my grandma’s role model.
Towards the final years of the war, the English arrived at Sant’Alfio. Everyone was cheering, and the English gifted many small things, such as food. My grandma recalls a vivid memory when her mom took a towel and waved to the soldier, tears in her eyes. My grandma still remembers a box with ham, crackers, and chocolate. Since they could barely afford food, they were often hungry.
This differed from what I remember my grandpa telling me about his experience. He told me that he used to go to parties with American and English soldiers and remembers them always giving him chocolates. He never mentioned he was starving. These facts are mere memories from years ago, but I sense that my grandparents had very different social and economic experiences.
WWII left many families in extreme poverty. I always loved fashion, so on shopping sprees, my grandma would recount the memories of when she and her mom would sew clothes from curtains. I would always answer jokingly, “At least your clothes are perfectly tailored,” and she would laugh in response. Purchasing and dressing were not the same as today. I understood the message of her experience, but my grandma and I always managed to turn our conversations into laughter.
That was all that my grandma wanted to say about her experience during WWII. While she has these memories, she admitted she was still young, so she could not speak beyond that. So, I shifted to discussing how she and my grandpa met.
The next few paragraphs are a combination of what my grandma told me during her interviews and what her older brother, Zio (Uncle) Salvatore, shared with me when I interviewed him.
Before my grandparents met, my grandpa was best friends with my grandma’s older brother, Salvatore. When I spoke to Zio Salvatore, he explained friends did not represent their bond; they were, and always have been, like brothers.
As they spent more time together, Zio Salvatore noticed how they were raised quite differently. Zio Salvatore was one of seven siblings living in a small home in campagna, while my grandpa was the only child living in a very large home in the small town of Lentini. Despite their difference, Zio Salvatore noted that my grandpa’s parents always treated him with kindness and respect – something my grandma never had the luxury of as they never accepted her. However, when my grandpa started dating my grandma, Zio Salvatore said my grandpa's parents had disappeared, which confused him.
My grandma thought my grandpa was very handsome from their first meeting at her house (he was there to spend time with Zio Salvatore). However, he was dating someone else, so she was just friendly with him. Beyond that, she didn’t give him much attention. She told me, “What was the point if he was with someone else?” I found this funny because it’s classic grandma to be the boss that lives life with such determination.
Suddenly, my grandma started cracking up at the memory of her eighteenth birthday, one of the biggest Italian milestones that must be celebrated accordingly. Oftentimes, Italians would host large parties with friends and families to celebrate this milestone. Given the economic crisis and the fact that my grandma’s family was struggling financially, my grandma organized a small gathering with her friends at her house.
Since my grandpa was friendly with my grandma at the time, I asked her if this was the night when my grandparents started dating. I thought the party environment would give them more time to socialize, and maybe they fell in love that way. This time, she laughed even harder. I was confused. Why would my question be so funny?
I wasn’t expected to laugh so hard from what she told me next. She never invited him and added, “Why should I invite him if he had a girlfriend?” I knew my grandma was steadfast and ambitious, but I was shocked to learn this! I feel that today, even if someone were dating, you would still invite them as friends. Nope – my grandma certainly did not!
Obviously, I had to ask her how my grandpa took this news. She smiled and told me that he was disappointed. When he asked her after the party, she told him exactly what she had told me: “Why should I invite you if you had a girlfriend?” Until my grandpa passed away, he often jokingly told my grandma that he was still offended that she never invited him to the party.
As she remembered the jokes they shared, I could see a sadness form in her eyes – a longing to laugh one more time with her best friend. My eyes started to burn a little, so I changed the course of the conversation and asked her what had happened after. She smiled again and said that my grandpa and his girlfriend broke up shortly after. I asked if it was because of her, and she just smiled and said, “I don’t know; all I know is that her name is Simonetta Gavotti. She was from a wealthy family and lived in Rome, but Nonno [grandpa] broke up with her because she did not share the same intellectual curiosity as he did.” My grandma shrugged her shoulders as she chuckled and added, “and then he found me.”
After my grandpa broke up with Simonetta he would visit my grandma’s house more frequently, with the excuse that he was hanging out with Zio Salvatore. During this time, Zio Salvatore was very protective of my grandma and did not want my grandma to steal his best friend because of the brotherly love they shared. Looking back, Zio Salvatore admitted that their brotherhood only strengthened.
After around two years, they finally ended up together. My grandpa studied law in Milan for two years and in Rome for two years, so they were long-distance for the first four years. Long-distance relationships were very different from today. She could not Facetime my grandpa at any time; instead, they constantly sent handwritten letters and talked to each other on the phone when time and money permitted. My grandma remembers that she would always get to the phone with a large bag of tokens and, every couple of minutes, would insert the tokens. While this was the best mode of communication, it was expensive.
Towards the end of the interview, my grandma tells me to wait one second as she walks out of the frame. After 30 seconds, she returns with this tile. My eyebrows shot up because I wondered why she held a tile so tightly as if it were her prized possession. After giving it a longing look, she turns the painted side towards the camera and my eyes water. It’s a prayer from my grandpa.
When I asked how old my grandpa was when he gave it to her, she said he was 22 or 23. I was astounded. My grandma still held onto gifts that my grandpa had over 50 years ago; it’s so precious.
Of course, I wanted to know what it said, and my grandma was happy to read it to me. As my grandma was reading this to me, she started tearing up because this message was a testament to how much they loved each other. My grandma needed to pause a few times so she wouldn’t cry. I felt bad making her read it, but I also knew that it meant the world to her to share it with me. Here is the translated version:
Listen my God
The words that come to me from my heart:
Protect my love tonight too.
Let him wake up tomorrow without having forgotten my name.
Let my thought accompany you throughout the day and defend it from everything base and vulgar.
Make our love ever higher and deeper, free from all cowardice and deceit.
Let my life serve his and his soul is mirrored in mine.
Let him call me and let me answer him, look for me and find me, tomorrow and always.
Teach us to suffer for each other.
Show us the way of elevation, so that always united, from heaven to heaven, we can be reunited in you, my god.
And so be it.
A photo my grandma took of a photo of her and her sister, Elvira, in costumes for the annual carnival.
A photo my grandma took of a photo of her parents on their wedding day.
A photo Zio Salvatore sent me of him, my grandpa, and his friends on a boat together.
A photo by my grandma of the tile my grandpa gifted my grandma.
"'Teach us to suffer for each other.''"
She repeated the phrase, “Teach us to suffer for each other” (insegnaci a soffrire l'uno per l'altro). When she was young, she did not understand the profoundness of this phrase, but as their love grew stronger, she understood what it means to suffer for each other. She reminded me of when my grandpa was in a car accident and how much time she spent by his side as he recovered. Recalling these memories, I was on the brink of crying, painfully reminded of how much I miss him. The last time I hugged him was when I left Sicily two weeks earlier than my the rest of my family for my internship. If I had known it was the last time, I would have stayed. Even writing this now pains me.
When looking back at the tile, my grandma mentioned two things that still leave her in awe: (1) how in love my grandpa was with my grandma and (2) how young he was when he had it written. The words he had written on the tile were so profound and filled with love, which was the perfect segway for my grandma to transition to the second part: my grandpa was only 22 or 23 years old when he wrote this! My grandma is still surprised that a man so young could have such intelligence and the ability to think and love so deeply. My grandpa was ready to suffer for and with my grandma. She added that a man at this age does not think this deeply or demonstrate such incredible depth (una profondità incredibile); such love must be treasured. I agree that love like theirs it’s hard to find, but we are all capable of such profoundness when we are with the right person.
The call ended bittersweet. After sharing the prayer, she was sad, but she began laughing to herself. I asked her why she was laughing, and she said that, to this day, she still thinks it was drawn on by a female artist. The first thing my grandma asked when my grandpa gifted the tile was whether a female artist wrote down the prayer. Since my grandpa thought my grandma would be jealous, he said a male artist wrote it for him. But my grandma still believes he lied! She proceeded to show me the handwriting more closely and ask me what I thought. I told her I was unsure, but she must have read my mind because she said that she knew I would have agreed. We both laughed so hard.
After a few seconds, we stopped laughing, and my grandma looked at me earnestly and said, “enough for today.” Though she was genuinely enjoying telling me all these stories, these stories were also bringing back memories about her other half, that is no longer there with her. I told my grandma I loved her and was sending her hugs and kisses, and we ended the call.
"She remembers her mom waving a white tissue and tearing up because, to Sicilians, it was a step towards freedom."
My grandma is amazing, but she is one of the busiest people I know. She wakes up at 5 am and spends the day at her orange farm in the countryside until she’s back home by 8 pm. She also is the founder and CEO of the Andaf Onlus Volunteer Association, which offers a home assistance service for people who need palliative home care. Essentially, she is extremely busy, so finding the free time alone and then considering our time zone differences (6 hours) proved challenging in scheduling interviews.
While waiting to find a time for my next interview, I researched more about Sicily and World War II. My grandma talked about her memories during World War II at length, and while the history is evident to me, my professor and peers helped me realize that the historical context may not be apparent to all.
The most infamous battle in Sicily was the Allied invasion, also known as the Battle of Sicily and Operation Husky. France, Great Britain, and the United States were part of the Allied powers. Under the regime of Benito Mussolini, Italy was part of the Axis power, in which Germany and Japan also partook. Before the Allied powers invaded Sicily, Sicily was occupied by the Nazis, who were very cruel to Sicilians. As my grandma shared her stories, the Nazis would steal, hurt, and maltreat everyone.
Before conquering Sicily, the Allies won significant battles in North Africa and then moved to Sicily. The goal for the Allies was to make their way up Italy and gain some control in mainland Europe. On July 10th, 1943, the Allies landed in Sicily. When the Allies made their way to Sicily, the majority of Italians that were supposed to defend Sicily from the Nazi regime were Sicilian. They ended up surrendering pretty quickly because they did not like Mussolini or the Nazis.
Despite a relatively quick invasion, it was an intense battle. Military action began with intensified bombings of Sicilian cities from the allies (which my grandma remembers clearly). When bombings occurred, civilians had to run down to the bunker until it was safe to leave.
On August 17th, 1943, the Allies officially conquered Sicily. My grandma still remembers the day the Allied troops walked on her street. She remembers her mom waving a white tissue and tearing up because, to Sicilians, it was a step towards freedom.
A photo of Allied troops invading Sicily. A link to the website where the photo is held can be accessed here.
"... the family stem and title were extremely important to my grandpa's family..."
I scheduled a second meeting with Dr. DiRenzo to discuss his book and discuss the social implications of the barons. I initially complimented Dr. DiRenzo’s book as it helped me understand Sicilian nobility. The parts that stood out most to me were the importance of family crests – the design on a family's coat of arms that is passed down to the eldest son – to the noble families and the symbolism of marriage. To the noble characters, the family stem was critical to their identity; it was insulting and an outcry when someone asked a noble if they would consider selling their stem. Marriage was seen as more transactional than loving.
I never met my grandpa’s parents, so I cannot tell if their marriage was primarily based on love or status and wealth. From the letter my grandpa’s dad wrote, it feels like they had a loving relationship; however, the way my grandpa’s dad passed away might suggest otherwise. My grandma told me that my grandpa’s mom essentially left my grandpa’s dad to die; his sickness was curable, but she never sought any care. My grandparents constantly tried offering to care for him, but she refused. But again, I wasn’t there, so I cannot confirm anything. It’s also a fact that I don’t want to know because my goal is to focus on my grandparents.
What I can say is that the family crest and title were extremely important to my grandpa’s parents and extended family. By the time my grandpa was born, the Baron title had held no significance; rather, you were valued through your character and profession. Regardless, my grandpa’s family still valued their title. Once, my grandpa’s aunt tried calling for my grandpa while he was studying law in Rome by the title “Baron De Geronimo.” In response, the concierge replied, “Here, there are only professors and students.” My grandma was laughing when she told me this story because she thought their mentality and desire to maintain the title was so silly. Why hold a title when it didn’t matter to anyone else but yourself?
While explaining this story to Dr. DiRenzo, he was quite intrigued but not surprised. He explained to me an important distinction: reactionary and liberal barons. Contrary to common belief, the Enlightenment ideas were already in Sicily – they were not brought by Northern Italians. Charles Bourbon – usually considered the first King of Naples and reigned from the mid-to-late 1700s – wanted Sicily to be a place of major intellectuals. To accomplish this, he wanted to bring in great thinkers, like Voltaire.
To create the change Charles Bourbon envisioned for Southern Sicily, he followed Voltaire’s philosophy that it’s better to change a monarch (top-down approach) than all the people (bottom-up approach). Therefore, to transition to such intellectual growth, Charles Bourbon looked to the nobility. From this, a divide arose between barons. On the one hand, there were reactionary barons who wanted to maintain traditions and valued their leisurely and luxurious life at the expense of others. On the other hand, there were the liberal barons who valued the entry of intellectuals and began transitioning to a mentality like my grandma’s parents of having your hard work rather than your title define you.
When I heard this, I had somewhat of a breakthrough in understanding why my grandpa’s parents and my grandma’s parents were both so different. My grandpa’s parents resembled reactionary barons more, while my grandma’s parents resembled liberal barons more. Both my grandparents' parents technically had baron titles, but my grandpa’s parents primarily cared about their wealth and title. While my grandpa’s mom wanted to be acknowledged as “Baroness Beneventano,” my grandma’s mom did not want to be associated with the title. It felt like my grandparents' families were polar opposites, but I still wondered: why did this distinction matter so much to the point that my grandpa’s parents felt it was necessary to try to end such beautiful love?
A photo Zio Salvatore took of the only family crest left in his family. It's under the dining table that was passed down from his dad.
A photo I took of the De Geronimo baron ring that my grandpa passed down to my dad. The ring was also used to stamp the family stem with hot wax.
"My grandpa wanted my grandma, so he never gave up on her."
Finally, I interviewed my grandma again. She is, indeed, an extremely busy woman with a lot of weight on her shoulders. We picked up where we left off – my grandparents meeting.
As already mentioned, my grandparents' relationship started with four years of long distance. My grandma noted that since it was expensive and took a long time to get to Milan and Rome – either by car or train – my grandma could rarely visit him. However, my grandpa tried his best to visit my grandma in Sicily. She started smiling, and I asked her why she was smiling. She told me a funny story about the one time she visited my grandpa in Rome.
When my grandma visited my grandpa in Rome, she went with her sister, Elvira, because it wasn’t safe for women to travel alone. At that time, there weren’t any GPSs, maps, or cell phones, so my grandparents established in advance to meet in front of the police headquarters since that would be the easiest place for my grandma to locate once she arrived. Her grin grew wider as she told me, “When he arrived, he was so happily stunned by my presence that he accidentally hit the car in front and behind him as he was parking. He was so sweet.” My jaw joyfully dropped. I couldn’t believe it! It felt just like the movies. Imagine someone being so stunned by your beauty that nothing else around them mattered.
When my grandpa came home, he often visited my grandma before his parents because he couldn’t wait. Therefore, during his first day home, they would join their friends on trips to Taormina. They drove to Taormina together and found a club to dance and celebrate life. My grandma said that many times, she and my grandpa were so good at dancing that people often formed a large circle around them and cheered them on. I wish I could have witnessed those moments because they seemed to be filled with happiness and love. When I close my eyes, I can see them looking at each other lovingly, smiling wide, without a care about anything around them. What a beautiful love.
Hearing about their dance trips transported me back to when I went to Italy last summer. My grandma and I had lunch with one of her old friends. I asked my grandma’s friend what my grandparents were like when they were young (I was curious!), and she told me that they were constant fun and adventure. I was immediately intrigued, so asked her to tell me more. She laughed and replied that she didn’t remember much except that my grandparents were a menace on the road. She then told me that on sharp turns, my grandparents would lean on one side so the car would turn with only two wheels touching the road. I laughed so hard. I was SHOCKED!! My grandparents were insane; again, I wished I could have been there for those moments. I can imagine how hard they must have been screaming and laughing as they drove the road a little too dangerously. I am certain they lived life to the fullest.
By the time my grandpa finished law school and was returning home, his parents were already very opposed that he was dating my grandma. When I asked both my grandma and Zio Salvatore why, they said they never fully understood why, but a large factor was their wealth disparity; potentially, the family name or title was another factor. At that time, my grandma always thought that if my grandpa’s mom knew her better and knew how much they loved each other, things would be better. Unfortunately, she was wrong.
My grandpa tried really hard to convince his parents that my grandma was the right person for him. Despite his pleas, my grandpa’s parents would not hear it. They kept insulting my grandma and making gross excuses like, “She would be ugly when she got old,” to try to break them up. Zio Salvatore noted that “Once my grandpa put his mind to something, he was tenacious.” My grandpa wanted my grandma, so he never gave up on her.
I asked my grandma what else my grandpa’s mom did. She only shared with me the smaller things she remembered. For example, my grandpa’s mom would befriend women that she wanted my grandpa to date. She would organize events, forcing my grandpa to meet them, but my grandpa was never affected. He only had eyes for my grandma.
Once, my grandpa’s mom convinced one of his friends to propose to my grandma in the hopes that my grandma would say yes. Then she could tell my grandpa, “I told you she didn’t love you.” My grandma immediately denied the proposal (obviously); she only loved my grandpa. I was shocked, but my grandma chuckled. This was nothing compared to what was done to her later.
My grandpa's parents didn’t care about his love for my grandma. My grandpa was even kicked out of the house with the little money he had for himself. He was often hungry, so my grandma invited him over as often as possible for family lunches. Not only was he hungry, but during this time, he sacrificed some meals to afford to buy my grandma a small ring. I asked my grandma why they did this, and she said that my grandpa’s parents thought that my grandma only loved him for his money, so if he had none of it, she would leave him. Obviously, my grandma didn’t care about the money. Their love was real and strong.
Eventually, my grandpa understood there was nothing he could do to convince his parents. He tried so many ways, but it wasn’t possible, so he decided to proceed to marry my grandma without his parent’s blessing. Although my grandparents were extremely happy to get married, my grandpa’s mother did not give up on trying to tear them apart.
A photo of my grandparents leaning on their Fiat 600 that they would drive around together.
One of their favorite songs my grandparents danced to, and that I believe represents their love beautifully. I listen to it often.
"Today we have new divides in our society, but we can apply the same values as my grandparents: love before all."
I struggled to write the previous sentence because I knew there was so much more to their story, but this project is just the beginning of a book about their whole story.
As their granddaughter, I have one question taking over my mind: did my grandparents ever really understand how remarkable they were? My grandparents met when they were young and lived life side-by-side for over 60 years. To them, their love was the norm, or in better words, it was an expectation. My grandma always told me sternly, “love and respect are necessary; he may love you, but if he doesn’t respect you, it won’t last.” When hearing this, it’s pretty evident that respect is necessary, but what does respect mean to my grandma? Does it mean sacrificing money? Does it mean being willing to get kicked out of the house for the one you love? That’s honestly a lot of pressure to live by and an expectation that I understand one would be hesitant to uphold. What my grandparents did for each other, especially at such a young age, is not within the norm; it’s exceptional.
At first, I wanted to do this project for myself. I was hoping to learn more about my grandparents and understand how and why their love was so strong and beautiful. I also rightfully believed that by learning more about my grandparents, I could feel more connected to them despite the 4000+ mile distance between each other. From this project, I had memorable conversations with my grandma, learned about my ancestors, and found some of the most beautiful photos of my grandparents.
However, as I was learning more about the strife and sacrifice they made for each other, I realized that this story should be sent to my whole family and be passed down to my children, and so on. From this project, I was opened to the fact that my dad’s and my generation are built upon a foundation of a love so strong; we should constantly be reminded of that. I want my family to cherish and recognize their love so that in moments when we are upset with each other or feel disconnected from the family, we remember the love that made us who we are. My grandparents overcame so much strife. Why can’t we? We were raised by the most exceptional role models, so part of their love lies within us.
In addition to the profoundness of their love on a personal and familial level, I realize that their story has such valuable historical and social implications that need to be shared with the world. My grandparents' love for each other was beautiful, but because of the social exclusion rooted in Sicilian Medieval times, they faced great strife and required great sacrifices to be together.
As a historian, I find it fascinating how my grandparents' love was almost destroyed by the traditions that remained from Sicilian feudalism. When I spoke with Dr. Karla Mallette, a professor of Italian and Mediterranean Studies at the University of Michigan, she told me that she has a friend in Sicily who still likes to be called “princess.” I was shocked at first, but Dr. Malette explained to me that Sicilian feudalism is deeply rooted in Sicily today and that family lineages still matter to some. Like Dr. Mallette’s friend, my grandpa’s parents were also deeply rooted in their past. As an outsider, I can confidently say that the title doesn’t matter, but I did not live in Sicily. I recognize that I do not understand the extent to which feudalism is embedded in Sicily or why some families still value their past titles.
Admittedly, when my dad showed me the baron ring, I felt prideful for my family. Well – maybe pride isn’t the right word. I felt a sense of importance because there is history that my ancestors created. I may not have met who wore the ring, but I know it was worn by my ancestors from over 100 years ago. Similarly, when I saw the family stem, I felt more connected to my history and family. This doesn’t mean I am proud of the negative things barons have done, but connecting to my roots feels special. I wonder if this is what my grandpa’s parents or Dr. Mallette’s friend felt.
When I started this project, Professor Raymond (my professor in the Minor in Writing Capstone course) told me, that remarkable things that a family member accomplishes are not passed down. For example, a genius mathematician may raise children that are good at math, but the chances that they will achieve the same level of genius are low. At first, I questioned what he meant, but now I realize that the same goes for my grandparents. They raised children and grandchildren with a foundation of such beautiful and heartfelt love, but the chances that we experience the whirlwind romance they lived through are low. While it may seem pessimistic, I am actually quite grateful for this. Because of my grandparents' love and strength, I don’t have to sacrifice my family for my partner. My grandparents taught my dad that love is beautiful and that when we fall in love, we should cherish it. If a parent intervenes with a child’s love, they risk losing their child. Chosen love is special and can overpower familial love if necessary, so don’t get it to that point.
But, I have also come to realize that my grandparents' story, though taking place in a different historical time frame, has profound implications today. In other words, we must apply the principles of love, respect, and sacrifice today. We no longer live in a world where one’s past title from medieval times significantly impacts your love life, but we have new things that matter to the same extent. To put more plainly, a baron title is insignificant today, but other aspects of one’s identity – gender, sexuality, race, etc. – do matter.
Today, we have new divides in our society, but we can apply the same values as my grandparents: love before all. My grandparents loved each other for who they were as individuals. Their class and wealth played no role in the amount they loved, respected, and sacrificed for each other. My grandpa was willing to sacrifice his wealth for what he believed was right and what he valued in life. Their story could not happen today, but it doesn’t mean that their message isn’t translatable in our time – it just translates differently.
I want to reiterate the importance of the phrase, it just translates differently. As a young adult, I have also fallen victim to the unrealistic depictions of love that we witness in film and social media. I cried after watching the film, “The Notebook,” thinking that we only have one soulmate or that such love is unattainable. After this project, I realized that I have been looking at love the wrong way. Love is subjective and looks different for everybody, but the concept of finding someone who accepts, respects, and loves you for who you are, despite exterior factors, is translatable in every time period and situation. I keep thinking, “Wow – my grandparents' story would make the perfect movie.” And yes, it would. But not because it’s idealistic or unrealistic, but because it’s real and the lessons are valuable to us all.
On my latest phone call with my grandma, she told me: “What I told you for this project is the tip of the iceberg. When you come this summer, I will tell you so much more. There’s so much more.” While I want to hear the rest now, I know that learning about two people’s lives takes time; it's also emotionally taxing to relive some memories. What you just read is the beginning, so don’t be surprised when you see their whole story turned into a book in the next year or so.
And grandpa, I can see it now. And yes, it was so beautiful.