Even the poor leave traces

 People sometimes think that family trees are a prerogative of very noble families. In reality, anyone can begin their own genealogical research and derive great satisfaction from it, even those, like myself, who descend from generations and generations of mostly poor and illiterate farmers. Because the truth is that, talking about Europe, everyone who has lived at least in the last four hundred years, has left written traces of their passage on earth.

Let's take the example of a child born in Sicily in 1850. Our child will be named, say, Giovanni. Giovanni's father works in the vineyards, and his mother sews to supplement the family budget. Giovanni has six brothers and sisters, and they all live in a three-room house, which they share with the family donkey. No one in the family can read or write, and it will be decades before one of their descendants learns to do so.

On the very day John was born, he is baptized, because at the time great care was taken to ensure that a child died without baptism: thus, his name is recorded in the register of baptisms for that year, with the customary Latin formula. The next day, his father goes to the town hall and has the birth transcribed in the civil registry, in a certificate where all the relevant information are recorded, from the time of birth to the parents' occupation and age (in southern Italy, there is already a civil registry office at that time, while in the North this there will be around twenty years later). 

Our Giovanni grows up, and in the meantime, his region is annexed to the new Kingdom of Italy. Among the new state's innovations there is compulsory military service. So, around 1870, Giovanni's name appears on the conscription lists. His family is shocked, but there is nothing they can do: Giovanni is forced to leave for Northern Italy, where he remains for several years. All the most important information about him (age, height, hair color, distinguishing features) are recorded in his personal file, the so-called matriculation sheet (that he is not capable of reading).

Back in town, he can finally marry Margherita, the girl he'd been exchanging glances with for years. After asking her family to marry him, he goes to church and the town hall to organize the wedding. The names of the two fiancés are posted on the church door and at the town hall, so that anyone who has any objections to their union can come forward. No one disputes anything, and so Giovanni and Margherita get married in July 1878. The details of their marriage are recorded in Latin in the parish register and in Italian in the civil registry.

A few years later, two of Giovanni's brothers leave for the United States and list Giovanni's address as that of their closest relative in their New York arrival records.

Over the following years, Giovanni and Margherita would have eleven children, seven of whom would reach adulthood. With each child born, dying, or marrying, Giovanni's name regularly reappears in the parish and civil registers. It also appears in notary deeds, when Giovanni and Margherita finally manage to buy a new house with a small plot of land. Until, in 1938, the certificate of the second marriage of one of his sons bears the words "son of the late Giovanni." The "late" indicates the father is no longer alive. In fact, Giovanni died in 1936. On his tomb, the family had a long epitaph engraved like those used in the past, extolling the virtues of a good father: yet another earthly trace of Giovanni's life