10/09/2026
Today, I found a dusty frame tucked away in my attic.
From a distance, I saw it among a pile of other things, and something in my brain suddenly reconnected to the very first time I had ever seen this frame.
I was a child, sitting in my grandmother’s bedroom.
Back then, there was no “007” and no genealogy obsession. 😊
I had no idea how important this photograph would become to me one day.
The two people in this picture are my great-grandfather and great-grandmother.
My grandmother had kept their photograph as a memory of her parents.
Today, I cleaned the frame and looked at the photograph again—but this time, I saw it through different eyes.
I saw it with a new perspective.
And what a story it is…
My great-grandfather, Damiano, emigrated to America twice, to New York, around 1910.
But both times, he eventually returned home.
He was the only person in our town who spoke English when American soldiers entered the comune during World War II.
He was able to communicate with them and give them directions about where the Germans were hiding.
My great-grandmother, Antonina, lived to be 106 years old.
When she reached that incredible age, the town of Collesano celebrated her with a huge festival—with the band, the press, and even a gold necklace presented to her by the mayor.
Together, they had eight children.
Today, we take hundreds of photographs. We take selfies, use filters, retake the same picture ten times, and instantly store everything on our phones.
Back then, you might have had one photograph.
