My mother’s
family history was (supposedly) a simple story: an Italian grandfather just off
the boat, who married a nice Polish girl. That should make for a nice simple
genome, right?
Not so much.
According to the 23andMe database, my genome shows similarities to
people from Hungary, Finland, and the Czech Republic. I have a small but
significant segment of “Balkan” DNA, not to mention a drop of Ashkenazi Jewish
ancestry.
So what
happened back in Europe, with my great-grandparents and their forebears?
I know a
little about my Polish grandmother Lottie, but almost nothing of my Italian grandfather
Narciso. He was dapper and handsome, and he liked posing for the camera – look:
Mom always
said he was good with kids; naturally she’d say something like that, but then
again, there’s this nice picture of him posing with his kids and stepchildren
(I think the one with a bucket on his head is my late uncle Primo):
According to
my great-aunt Estelle, Grandpa Narciso was a bit of a dog. He romanced both my
grandma Lottie and her sister Julia at the same time; Grandma got pregnant
first, so she won the prize (so to speak), and Mom was born a few months after
the wedding.
Grandpa
Narciso died in a mining accident 1926, when my mother was six years old.
I did a
Google search for “Narciso Vinci” the other night, and found his name listed on
a website documenting the people buried in the Old Wilkeson Cemetery in Pierce
County, Washington State. The website included this note:
Good
for Eagle Scout Ryan William Wagner, for cleaning off my grandfather’s grave
and recording his name.
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