findingphilblog

I have to admit I was miserable this morning.

I walked into the empty newsroom, sat down on a broken chair at my old wooden desk, looked down at my wrist-rest-less computer and just put my head down. I didn’t think I could actually get through another day here. Pittsburgh is my hometown, I thought. I cried my eyes out wanting to come back when we moved away in 2nd grade. So why on earth when I did — albeit 20 years later — feel so bad? Well, it’s complicated. But then, a crazy thing happened.

Out of nowhere an image vaulted forward in my brain. Clear as if he was standing in front of me, I saw him. His picture, really, since that’s all I’ve ever had. He died 14 years before I was born. But I could see him smiling the same smile I’d looked at every morning. The picture in the gilt frame I’d had on my dresser since I’d found it up in Grammy’s attic. Grandpa Phil.

For my entire childhood, I missed him. Grammy always told me of the four grandkids (my brother, and my dad’s sister’s two kids), I was most like him. “He would have loved you,” she always said. And I know I would have loved him, too. I had a thousand questions, and she only had about 100 answers. There were so many missing links. Where in Italy did we come from? How did his parents die? Was it really in the influenza epidemic? Where did he go after his parents died, but before the Brenckles adopted him?

The second thought hit me just as hard. Of course. I was sitting in the Allegheny County Courthouse. Literally on top of thousands and thousands of public documents that could have anything to do with his adoption, his parents dying.  I’m a county government reporter, dang it. I can do this. I can finally discover the truth about my Grandpa Phil’s life.

And I had to start right now.

The government offices were open. I had time.

So I ran across the street to the City-County Building and the Register of Wills’ office. A very nice man guided me to a stack of record books.  In under five minutes, I’d found him.

“Yup,” the man said, pointing to a name in the stack. “Right here. Venezia. Philip. Joseph. Mary. Looks like someone left them some money. Fill out that slip there and I’ll bring up the document for you.”