An American Tale

These are the grave markers of my great-grandparents. They were from the town of Gallo in Southern Italy, near Napoli. They came to this country in the early twentieth century. Domenica died before I was born, but I remember Pio playing the accordion for us when I was very small. I love doing genealogical research because it makes me feel connected, like I come from somewhere. Domenica's maiden name was del Vecchio, and I can trace both sides of my father's family to the 1600s. I like to think they would be proud of their American great-grandchildren, who speak English as a first language (I am the only member of my family in this country who speaks decent Italian, and I learned in college) and work on American political campaigns. I remember how important assimilation was to my Nonna. She was very proud that she became a US citizen after coming to this country in 1930. She lived under Mussolini, and although Nonna and I had our differences politically, I know she was as passionate about freedom and democracy as I am. Domenica and Pio Iannitti started life in nineteenth century Italy, but their final resting places are here, and they are woven into the story of the United States. Hopefully, people will soon realize that our strength is in welcoming strangers to our country, and cast off bigotry and xenophobia.