Sometimes people think that family trees are the prerogative of noble families. In reality, anyone can begin their genealogical research and derive great satisfaction from it, even those like me, people who descended from many generations of poor and illiterate farmers. Because the truth is that everyone who has lived in Europe, at least in the last four hundred years, has left written traces of their passage on earth.
Let’s take the example of my great-great-great-grandfather Giovanni, the son of two poor and illiterate farmers, born in Sicily in 1845. 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 probably share with the family donkey and other animals. No one in the family can read or write, and decades will pass before one of their descendants learns to do so.
On the very day Giovanni was born, he was baptized, because at the time great care was taken to ensure that a child would not die without baptism. Thus, his name was recorded in that year’s baptismal register, using the customary Latin formula. The next day, his father went to the town hall to register the baby. Here, all relevant information about the baby was recorded, from the time of birth to the occupation and age of his parents (Southern Italy already had a civil registry office at the time, which would arrive in Northern Italy about twenty years later). Our Giovanni grew up, and in the meantime, his region was annexed to the new Kingdom of Italy. Among the new state’s innovations was compulsory military service. So, in 1865, Giovanni’s name appeared on the conscription lists. This was a twist that shocked his family, but there was nothing they could do: Giovanni was forced to leave for Northern Italy, where he remained for various years. All the most relevant information about him (age, height, hair color, distinguishing features) was transcribed in his matriculation sheet.
Returning to his hometown, he was finally able to marry Margherita, the girl with whom he had exchanged glances for years. After officially proposing to her family, he went to church and the town hall to organize the wedding. The names of the couple were written on a board of the town hall, so that anyone with a dispute about their union could come forward. No one disputed anything, and so Giovanni and Margherita married in July 1873. The details of their marriage were recorded in Latin in the parish register and in Italian in the civil registry.
A few years later, two of Giovanni’s brothers left for the United States and listed Giovanni’s address as that of their closest relative in their New York arrival records.
In the following years, Giovanni and Margherita had eleven children, seven of whom reached adulthood. With each child born, died, or married, Giovanni’s name punctually reappears in parish and civil records. 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 his son’s second marriage bears the words “figlio del fu Giovanni.” The word “fu” indicates his father is no longer alive. In fact, Giovanni died in 1936. On his tomb, the family wanted 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.
