Last year my brother Bernard and his wife Sarah visited the town from which our grandparents and their family migrated in the late 1920s. It was then a village. It was only a brief visit, but still, he said he felt at home – like the men sitting in the town square knew he should be there. Unfortunately with not a word in common there was little they could do but smile at each other.
Some of my father’s siblings were born in Calabria, some, including Paul, in Australia. He has never been back and we have so far been unable to discover if there is any family connection in the town anymore.
Here are some shots.
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