I love Molfetta - ilovemolfetta.it

Dopo 70 anni ritorna a Molfetta

MOLFETTA 16/07/2011

Qualche settimana fa abbiamo incontrato e trascorso del tempo con alcuni "nostri" emigrati...

E' arrivata un'email, vi traduciamo solo una parte:

Sono nata a Molfetta, Italia e sono arrivata in America all’età di un anno con mia madre Maria, mio fratello Nicola di nove anni e mia sorella Antonella di sette anni.

Siamo venuti in America per accontentare mio padre, Giuseppe che si era trasferito cinque anni prima con la promessa di una vita nuova e migliore per la sua famiglia in cambio di duro lavoro.

Lui era stato in America parecchie volte, e ogni volta che tornava portava con se storie di grandi opportunità che semplicemente non esistevano a Molfetta.

Non c’era lavoro, così le storie avevano un senso. Così noi partimmo, guardando al futuro con grande speranza e determinazione.

Portammo con noi le ricche tradizioni del nostro paese nel nuovo mondo di Hoboken, New Jersey.

Pubblichiamo la lettera integrale ricevuta:

The Journey Home…

I was born in Molfetta, Italy and came to America at the age of one with my mother Maria, my brother Nicola (age nine) and my sister Antoinette (age seven).

We came to join my father, Guiseppe who had set out on this journey five years earlier on the promise of a new and better life for his family in exchange for hard work. He had been back and forth to America several times, always returning with the stories of opportunity that simply did not exist in Molfetta.

There was no work to be had, so the story goes. And so we left, looking forward with great hope and determination. We carried with us the rich traditions of our heritage to the new world in Hoboken, New Jersey.

Looking back, I realize how bold and brave my parents must have been to leave everything behind.
I had heard the stories of Molfetta my whole life… Molfetta by the sea… the beautiful Adriatic Sea.

In fact, in my father’s later years (he lived a long and prideful life to the ripe old age of 96), he expressed a desire to go back to Molfetta and the Adriatic to live out his remaining days… For that reason alone, I knew it had to be something very special.

Growing up in the busy hubbub of life in the city of Hoboken, I could only imagine in my mind’s eye what the old country actually looked, sounded, smelled and felt like… Throughout my life, the images of Molfetta were painted and fixed in my mind. And it was there, I believed they would remain.

The unexpected loss of my husband last year changed mine and my family’s lives profoundly. Realizing how precious and fleeting our time is here on earth, my daughter arranged our journey to Molfetta to see and experience it first hand before it was too late.

And so, my daughter Mary Ann, my granddaughter Catherine (age 14) and I journeyed back – together.
We took the short flight from Rome to the Apulia Airport in Bari, then a 20 minute taxi ride north to Molfetta. In making our plans and through an internet search we discovered the "Garden Hotel" on the outskirts of town.

It was confirmed by the friend of a friend, that this indeed was a lovely place to stay. Upon our arrival, I attempted to speak to the hotel manager in my Molfettese dialect. How helpful and genteel was his reaction. He encouraged me further. I explained our purpose which was to see the sites of my birthplace and my family’s homeland. Having no contacts there and nothing to go on but some old addresses and family names, our expectations were set accordingly.

The hotel manager introduced us to his friend, Roberto Pansini. Roberto was, a young, friendly, enthusiastic gentleman who offered to show us around Molfetta. He appeared very genuine and having come so far, we went with our intuition. He turned out to be a godsend for us. Roberto is the man behind the ‘I Love Molfetta’ website and a true ambassador for the city of Molfetta.

We hopped into his Volvo with anticipation that was palpable. We pulled out our scribbled papers with addresses and sites of the things we had hoped to see. Our excitement was contagious, as Roberto – always smiling and obliging, facilitated our every request. Roberto took command however, and our first stop had to be the heart of the old city of Molfetta, La Cita Vecchia, which was directly on the waterfront.

There in all its majesty lay the vision that was the true embodiment of my memories… the calm, vast , light blue waters of the Adriatic. The emotion was overwhelming. I had made it home…
This lovely, provincial city was as I had imagined, storied in history and masonry art that my father had also cultivated as his means of livelihood and carried with him to America. Our angel Roberto took us to the Chiesa Vecchia (old church) – dating back to the 12th-13th centuries.

We wound our way through the incredibly narrow streets where barely a car could fit. The area was made up of ancient buildings that had been restored and were now the home to fine art exhibits of the locals.

Next we drove to La Statione, the train station in Molfetta which my parents often spoke of. On the very rare occasion that my father ventured outside of Molfetta, it was this at this station where his journey began.

We kept moving… on to the childhood home of my mother: Via Luciana Manara, 8. We marveled as we looked up to the balcony of the top floor still beautifully maintained some 70 years later. A few steps away, in the middle of the piazza, we came upon an imposing statue of Garibaldi, which quite frankly stunned me. This was something my parents referred to very often and in great detail. The statue was exactly as they had described it. It now sprang to life for me.

That evening, we had a fabulous dinner in the city at Dentro La Mura with Roberto. Of course, Roberto knows everyone in the city and they rolled out the red carpet for us. We partook in the fruits of the Adriatic that colored my childhood. The food was delicious and never stopped coming.

We laughed, drank wine, and told stories. There was no ’them and us’… They truly felt like family.
The following morning (and at our request) we journeyed with Roberto to the local cemetery. It was beyond immense.

Although much of the family had emigrated from Molfetta, some had remained. We had hoped to find some of them there. The manager of the cemetery, a very kind and capable gentleman, made every effort to help us. He poured through volumes of hand written record books, all the while commenting that he needed to get these scanned and digitized before something awful should happen to them and they’d be lost forever!

Unfortunately, we didn’t have enough information to find my grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc. However, we did find large headstones with family names and pictures: Andreula, Prezioso, DeGioia, Cafarelli, Spadavecchia and so on. That was all the confirmation we needed.

Our joy and enthusiasm was not diminished. We already knew we were home.
We spent some time at the open fish market where fisherman sold their fresh catch. It was quite a site to behold, commanding all of your senses. As you walked through the market, men shouted to attract you to their particular stand to buy from them.

We saw every fish imaginable… oysters, octopus, calamari, mussels, whiting, smelts, snails, and on and on… These were right in line with my memories of the delicacies I ate as a child growing up in Hoboken.

We wandered on our own through the narrow streets of Molfetta, making our way to the doorstep of my birth home: Via San Giovanni, 71.

I spoke in dialect to the neighborhood ladies who were sitting nearby. Their delight in our journey was reflected in their warm and friendly reception. Again, we found ourselves moved beyond words.

Finally, we spent some time at the basilica of La Madonna dei Martiri (of the sea). Her namesake is celebrated around the world, including Hoboken. Father Giuseppe the wonderful Monsignor of the Franciscan Order was so kind and warm. He did everything to make us feel welcome.

There was a small cave- like space in the basement with a striking statue of the reposed body of Jesus Christ. It was already familiar to me, as this again was one of those memories seared in my mind from childhood.

As our time to leave Molfetta drew near, we gave special thanks to Roberto for his warm and generous hospitality . And so we left, having accomplished what we went there for in the first place… to affirm the depth of our heritage and the ties that will always bind us to Molfetta and the beautiful Adriatic Sea.

This was truly an experience of a lifetime.

Catherine Andreula Impalli
Hasbrouck Heights, New Jersey