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In search of my grandfather's past … and maybe a book deal

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May 2006

Resurgam

One of my favorite books is Charlotte Bronte’s “Jane Eyre.” When her friend Helen dies, she’s buried at Lowood School under a stone that says “Resurgam.” Latin for “I will rise again.”

That word kept running through my head as Jason and I made our way to Mount Carmel Cemetery.

Because, after 90 years, Francesco and Saverina’s memories were rising again. We had to stop at the cemetery office to get directions to the site, which was fairly easy to find. It’s a nice spot, as these kinds of things go. Just below a dip in a hill, near the cemetery’s baby section. I try not to think of all those tiny tombstones with little lambs on them as I walk up to my great-grandparents’ grave.

Francescosgrave There they are. I’m shocked to see that there’s only one stone. My feeling for my great-grandmother again fluctuates. Why did her new husband not see fit to buy her a stone. It makes me sad. Because I see that despite the missing picture (it would fit on that little notch), Francesco’s name, date of birth and date of death have withstood the test of time. The grass is neatly tended around the monument to his existence. Were it not for the little record card in the cemetery office, I might never know Saverina was right there next to him.

I sit down on the grass and try to feel whatever connection might still exist between myself and the bodies below. The weight of history somehow feels incredibly present. I think of my Grandpa. Did he ever come out here? If he kept his concertina-playing skills a secret, maybe he had a few clandestine visits to his parents. Or, maybe like a lot of men in his day, he just didn’t look back.

LaraBrenckle1 It’s a sunny day, and not too far removed, I realize, from the 91st anniversary of his death. I think about how there was no way Francesco could have imagined his little boy would have a little boy of his own, and a daughter as well. That they would go on to each have a boy and girl of their own. Two writers, a banker and a pharmacist, all living in Pittsburgh together.

Whatever Francesco and Saverina’s American dream had become, my dad and aunt, me, my brother Philip and my cousins Kristin and Bryce were proof that at least some of it had come true.

FirstVisit

Photo credit for these awesome pictures to my fabulous boyfriend, Jason Malmont.

Lost and found

MapCaptureNot long after I started this search, one thing had always bothered me.

Francesco and Saverina had died a long time ago. They were buried somewhere. But where?

Today, I have my answer. Mount Carmel Cemetery in Verona.

My search began, as it almost always does these days, by Googling in between phone calls and deadlines. “Cemeteries in Allegheny County.” “Catholic Cemeteries in Allegheny County.” They could be anywhere. There were hundreds and hundreds of listings, including abandoned ones.

I decided to start with the biggest. Allegheny County Cemetery. They had big section for poor people. Maybe they’d ended up there. I called the office and the kind person on the phone offered to check for me. No luck. But he did give me some great advice.

“Were they Catholic?”

Yes, I replied. They went to Our Lady Help of Christians.

“There’s a few cemeteries associated with that church, but try Mount Carmel first.” Then he gave me the phone number.

When I called, I went through my spiel. I was looking for my great-grandparents. I didn’t know when exactly they died, but I had a month and year for my great-grandfather. Would they help?

The man told me to hold the phone and he’d be back.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “They’re here. Francesco Venezia, you said? He died June 15, 1915. And his wife, Sev-a-rina? She’s January 24, 1917.”

My heart is pounding. Almost 90 years’ mystery and it’s solved in half an hour.

“For real?! Oh my gosh, thank you! We’ll be out to visit this weekend!”

But I had one more question before we hung up. Was there a baby buried with her?

No, the man said. Nothing on the record indicates there was. So, another dead end with this potential half-sibling.

Maybe it’s inappropriate to be excited about visiting a cemetery, but I am. I practically ran out of the newsroom to call my parents.

“I found them! I found them! I found them!” I yelled when my dad picked up the phone.

“Who?”

“Your grandparents! Francesco and Saverina! They’re in Mount Carmel Cemetery over in Verona.”

“Really?” my dad said. “That’s incredible. I never remember my dad mentioning it.”

“I’m going to go this weekend! Jason will take pictures and I’ll send them to you. Maybe we can all visit the next time you guys come out.”

“Oh, and dad,” I said. “I kind of told the paper that I’d write a story about my research project. Is that OK?”

He said it was. Said the Brenckle relatives still living in Pittsburgh might get a kick out of it.

“In fact, here,  talk to your mother. There’s something coming up this summer.”

When I talked to my mom, it turned out that the Brenckles had invited all of us up to Arnetta Brenckle Andrews’ house this August for a family reunion. It’s the first time in quite sometime that they’d asked this branch of the family to come.

Oh, what a tale I’ll be able to tell.

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