GETTIN' DOWN 'N DIRTY...

Whenever little kids get together to play, all bets are off. It's just a question of which one will get the filthiest by the end of their playdate. At least, that always seemed to be what would happen when these two little mischief-makers were within shouting distance.

Billy - age 4

When four-year-old Billy gets down on his knees in the backyard... in front of a pile of dirt...you can bet he's not exactly trying to cultivate the soil for planting. More than likely, this little guy just wants to get his hands, and every other part of himself dirty.

Natalie -age 3

Not to be outdone by her cousin... three-year-old Natalie also can't seem to take her eyes off all that beautiful dirt. The only thing that would make it all perfect is rain! Just think of all the lovely mud pies she could make!!  🤔

SEPIA SATURDAY PHOTO CHALLENGE #522

LIFE BEHIND A FACE MASK...

The world, as we know, is not the same as it was a year ago. Picking up a couple of items at the grocery store on a whim or stopping off to grab some takeout comes with a hefty price in recent days, and I don't mean dollars spent. 

Many years from now, future genealogists and family historians will look at the events, which transpired within just three months of the start of this new decade. The impeachment and subsequent trial of a president, and the COVID-19 epidemic. 

This Photo by Unknown Author is licensed under CC BY-SA

How will history remember these events or how we reacted to them? Will they be examined in the same way that we scrutinized what our country lived through during the 1973 Watergate hearings? Worse still what our ancestors endured during the 1918 Spanish Influenza pandemic? 

Clip Art Courtesy of PopHistory.com

The United States withstood the stigma and scandal associated with the downfall of a president back in the 70s. Watergate is now a mere footnote in American history to those not yet born at the time of the break-in. 

The world was left with deep scars from the effects of the Spanish Influenza more than 100 years ago... leaving almost no family untouched, and yet we ultimately survived that, too.   

Clip Art Courtesy of Chipublib.org

The uncertainties of 2020, and the outcome of the latest events that we are facing not only as individuals or a nation, but as the world... is still being written and leaves me with a certain amount of apprehension. My logical self tells me that everything will work itself out because it always does. Only time will tell what the future holds for this crazy world in which we live. 

As uncertain as things seem at times, we will get through it and be stronger, and hopefully smarter for it. Until then... I think we all need to be a little kinder and more considerate of each other, and especially of those individuals that are weaker and less fortunate than ourselves.

Meantime, maybe I should take a quick jog around the block...wearing my face mask, of course. It certainly won't hurt to take advantage of this downtime to lose a few pounds. Nah, who am I kidding? Instead, I'll take a deep breath, grab a good book, or binge-watch Outlander on television and relax. A little aromatherapy might be nice, or a cup of hot herbal tea and a scone... better make it more than one. 

Clip Art Courtesy of Clipground.com

WHO SAID DIAMONDS ARE A GIRL'S BEST FRIEND?

Mom about 1947

A pretty girl is sitting on the wheel well  of a car. She's all dressed up in a lovely outfit accessorized by a pair of spectator pumps. Was it a date night or just an ordinary old Tuesday?  

Maybe the car was new, and she was poised to individualize it like a beautiful ornament? You know, give it that little extra something to make it pop... sort of the way a diamond necklace accentuates a woman's neck and shoulders.

I may never know the answer to these questions, but I do recognize the little twinkle in my mother's eyes. It tells me that the photographer that she's gazing at is someone pretty special. I have my suspicions as to who it was, and he was indeed an exceptional guy that I came to know as Dad!  

Sepia Saturday Photo Challenge #521

THANK YOU, GRANDPA...

My grandfather, Isidoro Poppa, died on 18 August 1923 in Bridgeport, Connecticut. He was only 31-years-old. He never got to see his children grow up, meet any of his 17 grandchildren, or hear any of them call him grandpa. At the time of his death, his oldest child was 12-years-old, and the youngest was less than one year. Isidoro is buried at St. Michael’s Cemetery in Stratford, Fairfield County, Connecticut. Sadly, there is no tombstone on his grave to mark his passing or to honor his life.

Isidoro Poppa was the second eldest out of the five children of Fedele and Elisabetta Branca Poppa. He was born on 4 April 1891, in Orsara di Puglia, Foggia, Italy. (Wikipedia Contributors, 2020) ^[1]

In the early 1900s, Italy suffered from poverty, overcrowding, and several natural disasters, thanks to the continual eruptions of Mount Vesuvius, an earthquake and a tidal wave that swept through the country. People were emigrating from Italy to America in droves, chasing the American dream. Most Italian immigrants were young men who planned to work, earn money, and return home. They left their parents, wives, and children back home in Italy. 78% of Italian immigrants were men, and many of them would return to Italy permanently.

Early Italian immigrants made their living as fruit traders in New York, and growers in California. They didn’t want to farm. They wanted to stay in the city where labor was needed, and wages were high. Italian immigrants lived as cheaply as possible and, in many cases, under deplorable conditions. Many earned their living doing backbreaking manual labor, such as digging tunnels, constructing bridges and roads, and laying railroad tracks. (Researchomatic, 2010) ^[2]

Immigrants Catching Train in Italy to Port City

It was exhausting work. Still, it was more than what they had back in Italy. By1906, it was time for the Poppa family to begin to make their move to America.

Coming to the United States in the early1900s was not an easy decision to make. Assimilating to a new country and new way of life was difficult for many immigrants, who seemed to face more than their fair share of prejudices. Blatant racist views toward Italian immigrants in particular, and refusal to hire them for better-paying jobs were rampant. In large cities, tenements were mainly slums. If an immigrant couldn't get a decent living wage, they might reconsider trying to raise their family in America.  

Ellis Island Newcomers

Because Italian immigrants tended to be gregarious, they often clustered together in neighborhoods in some of the major cities in the U.S., that became known as "Little Italy." In their Little Italy communities, many didn't feel there was a need to learn English. This was another factor in not being able to secure better-paying jobs. (Finzi, 2017) ^[3]     


On 28 March 1906, 15-year-old Isidoro and his father left Italy from the port of Naples for America. They arrived at Ellis Island approximately 3-weeks later on 17 April. According to the ship’s passenger list, Fedele paid the passage for himself and his son, Isidoro. He had twenty dollars in his pocket. This meant he was not considered to be indigent according to immigration requirements, and would, therefore, be allowed to stay in the United States. Father and son would be living with Fedele’s brother-in-law, Vincenzo Fiore, at 114 Mulberry Street in New York’s Little Italy section of the city. The building in which they lived is no longer there. It was torn down years ago and now appears to be a vacant lot according to my research. 

While the exact date is not known at this time, Isidoro and his father would return to Italy sometime before 1910. On 18 July 1910, he would marry Theresa DiFoggio in his hometown of Orsara. They had eight children during their 12-year marriage, two of which would not reach adulthood.

6 January 1911, Isidoro set sail once again for the United States, leaving behind his new bride, pregnant with their first child. On this crossing, he would be accompanied by his brother-in-law, Rocco DiFoggio. They arrived at Ellis Island on 21 January 1911. This time, however, Isidoro was held on a 2-day medical detainment. He was finally admitted to the U.S. on 23 January 1911. According to the ship’s manifest, Isidoro and Rocco were headed to Butler, Pennsylvania. They would try their luck at gainful employment building tracks for the railroad.

During the early years of Italian immigration to Pennsylvania, newly arriving immigrants typically obtained jobs with the railroads through the padrone system. The Padrone system was a contract labor system used by many immigrant groups, most notably Italian, to find employment in the United States. Padrones were labor brokers; usually, immigrants or first-generation Americans themselves, acting as middlemen between immigrant workers and employers. They provided housing, food, and transportation to the highest paying jobs available that the padrone could discover. They were the spokesmen and advocates for the immigrants versus the police and local authorities. They prevented them from being exploited by the company that hired them. Padrones served as the cultural link to Italy. They facilitated letters, the sending of money back to the families, and arranging transportation back when the term of employment was over. The padrone was paid for his services, taking cash both from the immigrant and from the employer. (Wikipedia Contributors, 2020) ⁴

Back in Orsara, Isidoro’s first son Fedele was born on 19 March 1911. According to his wife Theresa’s Petition for Naturalization, she arrived in the United States on 22 July 1912 on the SS Sant’ Anna. To date, I have been unable to find the ship’s passenger list to determine whether or not Isidoro was with her, or if Theresa traveled alone with their infant son. A daughter named Elizabeth was born at some point between 1912 and 1913 in New Rochelle, New York. The child would not survive.

Isidoro’s parents, brothers, and sisters had settled in Bridgeport, Connecticut, after their emigration to the United States. Isidoro, Theresa, and their young son, Fedele, would also move to Bridgeport, Connecticut. Three more children would be born over the next few years; Antoinette in 1914, Rocco in 1916, and Leonard in 1918. By 1919, Isidoro’s family would relocate to Chicago, Illinois, at least temporarily, and there he would file a Petition for Naturalization. Two more children were born in Chicago, Elizabeth, in 1920 and Agostino in 1922. After Agostino’s birth, the family would move back to Bridgeport for the last time. By 1923, Theresa was pregnant with their eighth child, Mary. She would be born on 9 July 1923. Isidoro would live barely long enough to see the birth of his youngest child. He was not well and, sadly, would die by mid-August.

Isidoro’s cause of death was pulmonary tuberculosis. According to his death certificate, he suffered from this dreaded disease for at least 1-2 years. I’ve often wondered if the reason for moving back to Connecticut was because he knew his time was limited and wanted to be near his family at the end. Sadly, baby Mary would not survive infancy. She died in 1924. The exact cause of death is not known, but I suspect she met the same fate as her father. 

Isidoro had three very different occupations during his lifetime. He was a tailor, a railroad worker, and at the end of his life, a barber. There is only one known photograph of Isidoro. In it, he is a young and handsome man, who will never age in my memory. A description of Isidoro can be found on his WWI draft registration and on his Petition for Naturalization. He was described as 5 foot-4 inches tall, weighed 125 pounds, had a dark complexion, no distinctive marks, black hair, brown eyes with a defect in his right eye.

Call it a gravestone, headstone, or a tombstone. It is a marker used to memorialize a loved one. For now, the only memorial for my grandfather is that he lived on in his children. He continues to live on in each of his grandchildren, as well as his 27 great-grandchildren. For without Isidoro Poppa, none of us would exist. We are all truly grateful to you, Grandpa. May you rest in peace.    



 

Isidoro Poppa

April 4, 1891 - August 18, 1923

Works Cited

Finzi, J. (2017, August 28). Italian-Americans: The History of Immigration to America. Retrieved from GrandVoyageItaly.com: http://www.grandvoyageitaly.com/history/italian-americans-the-history-of-immigration-to-america

Researchomatic. (2010, December). Italian Immigration in the 1900s. Retrieved from www.researhomatic.com: https://www.researchomatic.com/Italian-Immigration-In-The-1900s-54077.html

Wikipedia Contributors. (2020, March 1). Orsara di Puglia. Retrieved from Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia Website: https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Orsara_di_Puglia&oldid=943312282

Wikipedia Contributors. (2020, January 7). Padrone System. Retrieved from Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia.: https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Padrone_system&oldid=934548177

BROTHERS MAKE THE BEST FRIENDS...

Four brothers. Four friends. Maybe they didn't get the chance to see each other as often as they would have liked over the years...life tends to get in the way sometimes. Maybe the amount of time spent together was limited to a weekly card game, a phone call just to say hello, or a family get-together every now and then. But I would argue that these four handsome gents remained close throughout their lives. The expressions on their faces in this photo are proof-positive of the real affection that they shared for one another.

THE POPPA MEN
Standing: Rocky (Dad). Seated from left to right:  Lenny, Freddie and Augie.

Photo taken at Freddie's 40th wedding anniversary party - 1983

Sepia Saturday Photo Challenge #520

DADDY'S LITTLE GIRL...

This is a photo from May 1949. It shows my sister, Natalie, just under two-and-a-half years old. She is with our Dad in the backyard of the old family home at the time on what was then known as DeKalb Street. 

In what appears to be a warm Spring day, Dad is wearing a t-shirt with his jacket hanging on the fence. Natalie is wearing a short-sleeved top and coordinated pants and shoes. Natalie is also wearing a mischievous grin on her little face...one that I had come to recognize and see often throughout the years. 

Natalie & Dad on DeKalb Street - May 1949

In my mind's eye, I imagine that the smile on this little one's face was an attempt to charm her way out of whatever mischief she was planning or had just accomplished. Of course, none of this was lost on my father. 

Dad knew his children well, and the love in his heart for his little girl simply jumps off the photograph, as the expression on his face proves. If I had to make a guess... I'd say Natalie's winning smile did the trick. Oh, what a character! Love and miss them both.

NO DAY AT THE BEACH...

When I was growing up, family vacations and outings were generally limited to day trips and local activities. There wasn't much travel outside the state of Illinois except for the occasional Wisconsin or Indiana border crossings in those days. A day spent at the Indiana Dunes State Park or Wisconsin Dells was a real treat. It didn't really matter where we traveled, we always had fun on those road trips… except perhaps this once. Although, in retrospect, it seems pretty entertaining now.

Maybe it's because we had no air conditioning at the time or that it wouldn't have helped anyway, but the dog days of summer in 1965 seemed to be hotter than usual. Now and then on late afternoons before the sun went down on those hot and sticky days, we would all pile into the family sedan and head on down to the lakefront to cool off. Mom would pack a picnic basket filled with cold chicken or sandwiches, and various deli-style salads for supper. Dad would load up the trunk with a couple of lawn chairs for the adults, a blanket for the kids, and all essential sandcastle-making equipment for the youngest, with a beachball or Frisbee for the older kids. Hearing the waves slap against the rocks and feeling the breeze off the water was very refreshing and something we all enjoyed. This night, however, we never made it there. 

Nancy (age 4)

It was an unbearably hot day in August, and the night didn't hold any promise of cooling down by much. My family climbed into the car and headed toward the lake. As I recall, the vehicle had bench seating. Dad, mom, and my three and a half-year-old sister, Nancy ["almost 4" as she would always remind us], in-between them sat up front. My eldest sister, Natalie, brother, Patrick, and I were seated squashed in the back. It would take about 30-40 minutes or so to get to the beach, a little longer, depending on the traffic. 

As I have already mentioned, part of our meal consisted of deli-style salads [i.e., potato, macaroni, and a creamy coleslaw]. My youngest sister loved rice pudding, so my mother would always pick up a small container of it, especially for her. As soon as Nancy saw the carton, her eyes widened. She had to have it, and since we wouldn't be eating supper for at least two hours, mom gave-in and my sister finished off her special treat before we left for the lake. 

The car ride was bumpier than usual [or at least, that's the way it seemed]. Maybe because it was so hot outside and Patrick, Natalie and I were packed in like sardines, …not to mention stuck to the vinyl seats, but it felt like the lake was a hundred miles away. 

After riding in that car forever with my brother and sister spurring me on, I taunted and teased my baby sister mercilessly, as she leaned over the back of the front seat.  As we all know, teasing is the first rule of the unwritten code of conduct between siblings on long car rides. My mother shouted at me, "leave your sister alone!" followed by my father, yelling, "don't make me have to pull over!" Of course, rule number two of the code is to blame the behavior on someone else. Therefore, my response to both of them was, "Natalie and Patrick made me do it!" Yes, the ride was long, and it was about to get even longer.

Dad was sidetracked by all the commotion going on in the car. He hit a pothole in the street that airlifted my brother, sister and I up off the seat. Of course, my younger sister loved it and squealed with laughter. Well, if there's one rut in the road…there's bound to be more, so after about the third jolt, it wasn't so funny anymore. Nancy's rice pudding…having not entirely digested decided it wanted out. 

Unfortunately, Natalie, Patrick, and I were in the direct line of fire from a hail of the gloppy mess once known as pudding that was inescapable. As my mother tried to pull my sister down onto the front seat and contain the steady stream of Nancy's favorite dessert, …she was caught by rice pudding shrapnel. Poor dad, hollered out "what's the matter now?" which caused Nancy to turn her attention towards him. As she turned her head in his direction, he was hit by the final volley of pudding down his sleeve and pant leg.  

Well, as you might have guessed, an evening at the lake was out of the question. Instead, we ended up at the local Turn Style Department Store, which was the equivalent to Kmart or Target back in the 60s. The entire family had to be completely re-outfitted just for the ride home. 

Whether it was food poisoning or motion sickness, no one will ever know for sure. What I do know is that I have not been able to look at rice pudding, let alone eat it ever since. As for my sister, Nancy... she denies any recollection of the events related here.

MUG SHOTS...

Two young boys wearing their Sunday best along with very serious if not guilty… expressions on their faces. The suits may look ill-fitted, but there is an excellent reason for it…

Cropped from a larger family photo taken around 1924
L-R: Dad (age 8) and Uncle Lenny (age 6)

As the story goes there was a fight between them right before this photo was taken. Lenny (on the right), had been teasing his younger sister Beth mercilessly, as older brothers tend to do at that age. Snatching her doll away from her and holding it just out of her reach.

When Beth began to cry, older brother, Rocky (on the left) came to her rescue. He grabbed the baby doll away from Lenny, and a fight ensued between the two brothers. Before the toy could be returned to its rightful owner, the two little rascals were called away for a family photo.

What did Rocky do with his sister's dolly? He shoved it under his suit coat, what else?  😉

Sepia Saturday Photo Challenge #519

TWO-YARD PENALTY...UNNECESSARY BAGEL ROUGHNESS...

A train station coffee kiosk

This tale relates an incident that happened to me about fifteen years ago. It is not genealogy-related by definition, though one might argue that it is a page out of my personal history book.

I was working in a downtown bank in Chicago many years ago, and as many others before or since, I took a local commuter train to work every morning. Upon reaching the final stop, all passengers are instructed to pick up their personal belongings and exit the train into the station. The train station has a food court in the lower level. It also has a strategically placed coffee bar or kiosk on the upper floor, for those riders needing a jolt of caffeine to start their day. There was no escape from the intoxicating coffee aroma emanating from that kiosk as you entered the station. In the early morning hours, there is generally a crowd of people standing in line to get their daily fix of caffeine, this particular day was no exception. I took my place in line and waited my turn. Nearing the front of the counter to place my order, I could see that I was next in line for my least favorite server. There must be an invisible sign that flashes over my head that reads 'all morons follow me.' I say this because I always seem to attract the worst or rudest waitperson possible.

I stepped up to the counter and ordered my usual breakfast…a medium coffee with cream and sugar, a plain bagel, and plain cream cheese on the side. The surly server, that I'll refer to as Suzie rang up my order. I handed over my money, and Suzie poured my coffee. She added the cream and sugar, and I thought to myself…so far, so good. Suzie also handed me a bag with a bagel and cream cheese.

Unfortunately, it was not the plain bagel and plain cream cheese that I had ordered or expected. It was an onion bagel with a veggie spread. I handed the bag back to Suzie and repeated my order to her. She rolled her eyes at me, took the paper sack, and walked away. After a few minutes, good old Suzie came back with another bag. This one contained a toasted raisin bagel with melted butter. It was tossed into the bag without ceremony or any additional protective paper around it to prevent the oily mess from seeping through the bottom.

I called my "favorite" server over again and reminded her of my order for the second time. She snatched the greasy bag out of my hand and walked away. A few minutes later, Surly Suzie was back with yet another mystery bag. I was beginning to feel like I was on a game show trying to guess what was behind door number three. Not knowing what I would find this go-round, I carefully opened this bag, to find that the bagel it contained was listed on the menu board as an 'everything' bagel. There were no spreads of any kind included this time...just a single sheet of bakery tissue.

At this point, I had had about as much as I could take of this nitwit. I dropped the bag on the counter with a slight thud and called Suzie over once again. I told her that she had gotten my order wrong for the third time. She said to me in her usual gruff tone, "don't be so rough with the bagels." If I hadn't been so annoyed, I would have laughed. Instead of being apologetic for her repeated bungling of my order, Suzie grabbed the bag from me (roughly, I might add), and walked away. Before correcting her mistake, she decided to hold a sidebar conversation with one of her coworkers about the situation. Standing a mere six feet away, I could hear the entire discussion. I was quickly running out of patience and decided to interrupt the character-assault on my personality. I not so gently reminded Suzie that instead of talking about me, her time would be better spent getting my order right. If not, I would be speaking to the manager. After another minute or so, and a couple of scoffs and smirks later… Suzie was back with yet another bag. A miracle of miracles, this bag contained my original and finally correct order. The only problem now was that my coffee was cold.

I wasn't in the mood to go another round with Suzie, and have her possibly spit in my cup. I grabbed my bag, cold coffee, and what was left of my dignity and started to leave. Usually, I let stuff like this go. On this particular morning, however, this rude and incompetent person behind the counter had tap-danced on my last nerve. I stepped over to the side of the kiosk to talk to the manager about my experience. I suggested that service with a smile might be a better approach from his waitstaff than eye rolls, snarky attitudes, and blatant incompetence. From the expression on his face, I suspect that I wasn't the first person to complain about his stellar employee. He apologized and promised to address the situation.

After that day, I never saw Surly Suzie again, so perhaps the manager was a man of his word. It was never my intention to get her fired, and maybe she wasn't. I will never know. I do believe, however, that when you work with the public, you should strive to provide excellent service, and when you don't …you should be held accountable. I also believe that companies should be held responsible for the way that their employees treat their customers, that is…if they want to retain them. Service with a smile is not that difficult of a concept and should be practiced regularly.

Definitely Not Suzie!

RESOURCES:

https://www.gettyimages.com/

Rolleyes emoji - mondspeer on DevianArt

ANCHORS AWEIGH!

Marilyn DeLio (my mom) as the first sailor on the left.

A high school play is a big deal to students, their families, friends, and school faculty members.

A senior class production is an even bigger deal when you're right up front where everyone can see your nerves play out in front of the audience.







This is a picture of my mother with several of her classmates in the 1935 McKinley High School senior class production called Tulip Time. I can't say that I am entirely clear on the connection between a chorus of these lovely young beauties all dressed up as sailors, baskets of tulips, and a windmill, but aren't they adorable? 

Sepia Saturday Photo Challenge #518