Legacy

1 As a young child, I remember listening to stories about Angelo Pagano, my great-grandfather who emigrated from Italy to the United States in the early 1900s. I had always envisioned him traveling on a ship like the Titanic, sailing across the Atlantic in a luxury liner to his new home in America.

2 Those fanciful images faded one warm autumn day when, as I was cleaning out the attic, I uncovered a collection of old letters tied together with a worn green ribbon. The paper was yellow and dry and started to crumble as I touched it. As I carefully untied the ribbon and unfolded the top letter, I realized the writing was Italian. My knowledge of the language is limited to spaghetti and espresso, but from the greeting at the beginning of the letter and the signature at the end, I could tell that the letter was written by my great-grandfather to Sofia, his beloved wife and my great-grandmother. Immediately, I decided to have the letters translated into English so that I could learn more about Angelo and the rest of my family.

3 A few weeks later, I received the translations. I learned so much about my family and about my heritage through Angelo's words. I learned about a man's hopes for a better future. Here, these few letters offer a small glance into his past, and my present.

A photo shows an old letter written on a piece of parchment. The letter says, My dearest Sofia, I must begin by telling you how much I miss you and our beautiful family. The voyage here was long and difficult. I could not wait until I was once again on dry land. I was nervous as I went through inspections here. Many people were not allowed to go into New York City. I am healthy, though. Sofia, you will see, I will begin our future here in America. As planned, our neighbor’s son-in-law, a fine young man, met me at the boat dock. I was so happy to hear him speak Italian! He took me to my lodgings, a small room in a cramped building. There are so many people in such a big city. I share the room with several other lodgers. We are all immigrants who are either working or looking for work. We all want to save money to bring our families over to America. I cannot complain. I have a roof over my head, and I am warm and dry. Tomorrow I begin my search for work. They have no need for farmers in the city, but I know I can find a job. I will send for you soon. With all my love, Angelo

A photo from the 1920s shows a cramped and crowded multi-family boarding house

A photo shows an old letter written on a piece of parchment. The letter says,Lovely Sofia, The living conditions in this city have made me homesick. The deplorable smells and sounds of this city make me yearn for our country village. I want only to get my hands in the dirt and work in our garden. I close my eyes and imagine our home: the sweet smell of basil and the taste of ripe figs, the song of the reed warbler at sunrise, your smiling face. But when I open my eyes, I smell the garbage that is left on the street, I taste coal in the air, and hear the sounds of the many people trying to sell their goods. But I have found a job. Your farmer husband now works for a construction company. I am building a skyscraper! The work is hard, sunrise to sunset, like being a farmer, and it gives me satisfaction to know that I am making something that will last forever. Many of the other workers are also Italian. They are teaching me English and about life in America. I hope to send for you soon. Love, Angelo

A photo shows an old letter written on a piece of parchment. The letter says, My beloved Sofia, I’m sorry it has been so long since I last wrote. I am working long hours, but I don’t mind. I know that each hour means that I am closer to having enough money for you to join me. Some of the men I am working with have told me about their plans to move west. They say it’s possible to buy land to start a farm. I think you would rather live in the county than in this hot and smelly city. The air is still and sticky here. You are used to fresh country air, gentle breezes, and grass under your feet. It is something to think about – owning a small farm in America. It won’t be long until I have the money for our family’s passage across the ocean. Although we must live in a boarding house to begin with, at least we will be together. How I miss our dinners together – the aroma of fresh baked bread, the laughter of our children, the golden sunsets. Forever yours, Angelo

4 The letters continue in a similar fashion until Sofia, their two children, and Sofia's mother finally arrive in New York in 1932. Angelo continued to work in construction, and Sofia earned money as a seamstress. It would be years before they made their journey west and purchased a small farm where they grew fruits and vegetables and raised chickens.

5 Pagano's farm, Angelo's legacy, has sustained four generations of Paganos. I placed the translations of the letters on top of the fragile yellowing letters, retied them with a fresh green ribbon, and returned them to the attic. They could wait there so the next generation could discover their history. I hoped that they would be as inspired by Angelo's words as I had been.

6 Farming was a difficult life, but the optimism and determination I had read in Angelo's letters inspired me to go out once again and sink my hands into the rich soil and plant sweet basil.

A modern photo shows a family farm with a red barn and a white farm house