A Man of Endurance
One of the most challenging years in recent history finally ended. In neighboring Croatia, earthquakes rumbled and severe snowstorms descended upon Veneto. Heaps of snow covered our village and a ghostly silence cloaked the streets, making Christmas festivities eerie.
Despite the cold weather, I took a trip to the local grocery store on a crisp December morning. Because of travel restrictions, it was highly advisable, if not compulsory for people to shop in their own village. It also helps economies face growing concurrence by bigger and often cheaper supermarkets. Buying groceries at the local Cooperativa has always been a pleasure. I find plenty of products, the grocers are kind, and it reminds me of the trips I used to take with my maternal grandfather Marco in the late 90s and early 00s. I was about 10-years-old at the time and would often accompany him and help him carry home bags full of delicacies.
As I crossed the threshold and greeted a few customers that morning, memories flashed back and I noticed how nothing had changed inside the Cooperativa. Not even the candy aisle was different, where I once spotted an expired candy bar and promptly alerted the grocers. My grandfather would often laugh at that story. It quickly came back to his and my parents’ minds each time they mentioned the grocery store.
My grandfather sometimes took trips by himself and even managed to forget to buy something. He always had to ask my grandmother for forgiveness and make a U-turn towards the Cooperativa to make up for his distraction. Even though he was getting a bit older, he was still in shape and very active. Born in 1914 into a poor family, he spent his bucolic childhood with his numerous siblings in a small village in the province of Belluno. My grandfather’s upbringing took place in a pristine world where nature reigned over mankind: trees grew splendidly, the air was pure and he would fish trouts in a creek by piercing them with a fork. As a young man, he fought in World War II, for which he was given the War Merit Cross after enduring imprisonment in Germany and worked a variety of jobs in Italy before moving to various European countries. He lived in Switzerland, Germany and Belgium.
His longest expat experience took place overseas in Venezuela, or more precisely at Margarita Island where he spent four years in the 50s. He sailed from Genoa and disembarked near Caracas before taking a smaller boat to the island. The voyage was long and tiring but also carried hope and curiosity for the future. He moved to the New World and left his wife in Italy. The two kept in touch through letters which took weeks to come to their destination – nothing like the instantaneous communication that we are used to today.
Black and white photographs depict my grandfather working and even enjoying his expat life in Margarita. Hard work was sometimes interrupted by laid back moments spent sipping fresh coconut water or by sitting in the sandy beach together with his colleagues and relatives. At the time of our grocery trips, I was too little to ask him more about his life abroad, but from what I gathered and remember, he enjoyed his experiences. He was one of many Italians who emigrated to other countries, even if temporarily, to create a better life for himself and his family. He and many others sacrificed so much and faced dangers for us to have a good life.
My grandfather kept working almost until he passed away in 2002. That was the year Italy and most European countries adopted euros as their new currency. I had even started teaching him how to convert lire into euros. Much time has gone by, but nothing has really changed; not the Cooperativa where we spent good moments together and not even the memory of my grandfather. The lockdown and isolation allowed me to dig more into the past and reminisce upon the moments I spent with him.
One memory that has stuck with me is the photo accompanying this story. We were at Miramare Castle in Trieste with my father, who took the photo. The way that I look up at my grandfather shows the respect and affection I felt and still feel for him.
Francesca De Blasi
is 28 and lives in Veneto, Italy with her parents. She majored in foreign languages (English, Portuguese and French) and cinema between Venice, Bologna and Lisbon. She adores music, especially the American oldies, and devotes her free time listening to it. Francesca studies the piano, attends concerts, interviews musicians and collaborates with a Venetian jazz label. Her goal is to work in the music industry, which may be in the United States.