L'Alveare (The Beehive)

Despite the many ways in which we're connected and plugged in these days, I think we're also a closed-off society, with an over-emphasis on privacy, space, security, and the like. We don't keep the same open-door policies that our older generations once kept. We don't pop in for visits without first scheduling and announcing, and reconfirming, our arrival. I had a great uncle, rest his soul, who was notorious for showing up at relatives' homes unannounced, sometimes hundreds of miles away in other states. Most of the time, he was welcomed gracefully, but not without the element of utter surprise... "Oh, well, we were just leaving to go on our family vacation for a week, but sure, come on in!!" Sometimes he was greeted with disdain.

Nonetheless, that was how he was brought up, in a society where it was socially acceptable to make impromptu visits. In fact, it was sometimes the only way you could build and maintain relationships--other than the occasional hand-written letter or postcard, or maybe phone calls from a house phone, if you had one. My Tiberio grandparents' house in Fairport was very much the center of family gatherings and visitations. The invitation was open, always, to stop by and have a cup of coffee. Have some sauce. Shoot the breeze. It was never an imposition to have unexpected visitors.

My experiences in Italy have forced me to observe my own social rituals under a new lens. Not that they're necessarily right or wrong, but most definitely different. I am a private individual; my space and privacy are very important to me. But why? What do I gain from this? Or perhaps the better question is, what do I lose? (By my Italian family's standards, I'd probably be considered a recluse. Granted, I live far from my family in NY, but you get the point...)

I think about these questions in the context of my visit to Italy, where it seems abundantly apparent that our social norms of yesteryear are still alive and well today. Actually, they are thriving. The communal way of life that I witnessed among my family was so refreshing, yet so foreign to me. Family members living in close proximity to each other, house after house, connected not by property lines but by their heritage. A compound of family-built structures, occupied by aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings and children, many of whom were born on the premises.

Much like a beehive, everything lovingly revolves around the family epicenter. Their bond is seemingly impenetrable, held together by the glue that is the family name. I'm not so naive to think that family politics don't exist. But I do believe that, in the beehive, the harmony of the collective wards off strife. They are a tribe... caring for one another, generation after generation, deeply invested in each other's well-being and the preservation of the whole. I do wonder how the dynamics will change as the younger generations venture out into the world, and whether they'll return to the hive some day. (Though I don't think I'm far off the mark, I also wonder whether my perceptions are accurate. Some day I'll know enough Italian to be able to converse with them in depth about this.)

My Dad in front of the original Tiberio homestead, where his father and nine siblings were born.
It has since been split into multiple apartments and to my knowledge, is not occupied by family members.
(CORRECTION: this is still one house, occasionally occupied by family members during holiday.)
However, on either side of this house are several other family homes.

My father and I visited two sides of my Italian family: the Tiberios (my grandfather's side) and the DiRisios (my grandmother's side). A startling discovery I made last year was that these two families are not related in Casalbordino. My grandparents married in the States, so naturally, we're all family here. I had wrongfully assumed upon my first visit that we would be one big happy family, spending time together as one. Instead, there was a bit of tug-of-war going on with me in the middle, each family competing for my time. Anyway, it was a good problem to have, and I was humbled to be the guest of honor with Jeb as my companion. On this second trip, the competition was still on, but we had the luxury of spending more time with each of the clans.

I knew my grandfather Tito was one of ten children, six boys and four girls. The Tiberios I met last year were descendants of several of Tito's brothers: Antonio, Nicola, and Domenic. I met one of my father's first cousins, Onorina Tiberio (Domenic's daughter), and several of the wives of my father's first cousins who had passed on: Dora, Lucia, and Ginetta. I also met many granddaughters of Tito's brothers (who would be my "equivalent" in terms of family hierarchy): Marilena, Rosita, Rita, Adriana, and Laura, as well some of their children: Matteo and Francesco (and this year had the pleasure of meeting Simona and Alessandra). But because we spent literally 36 hours in Casalbordino last year, I didn't have the full picture of the rest of the family--the descendants of Tito's sisters Laura, Rosa, Maria, and Luisa.

L to R (I hope I have these in the right order): Maria, Rosa, Laura, and Luisa

Marilena, Rosita, and Rita picked us up at the DiRisio B&B one afternoon, and told us we were going to meet another first cousin of my father. (I'm confused; I thought I had met his last surviving first cousin, Onorina, last year...) You can imagine our surprise when we arrived to find that there are several more first cousins, pictured below (and maybe others that we don't know about still).

L to R: Dina (daughter of Maria or Luisa, not sure as there are two Dinas), Umberto (son of Rosa),
my Dad (son of Tito), Eugenio (son of Laura), and Nicola (son of Maria)

One of my grandfather's sisters, I think Rosa, married a Marchioli and many of these women pictured below carry the Marchioli name (women in Casalbordino keep their maiden names, even though they are married; love that).

Included here are Agnes and her two daughters, Marisa, Federica, Mara,
Alessandra, Annamaria, Rosemary (whose house it was), Rosita, Marilena, and Rita.
Most of these women are granddaughters of my grandfather's sisters, and a few great-granddaughters.

This is another Tiberio family property just a couple miles from the other compound, with a long history of life cycles and generations past. Surrounding the house, acres of vineyards, olive groves and fruit trees, not an unfamiliar sight in this little town of 6,000. Rosemary, who is a doctor, was kind enough to show me some of her cherished family heirlooms, handmade or collected by her mother and grandmother, Rosa, I believe. (To my Italian relatives reading this, please forgive my inaccuracies.) Being a lover of all things antique, I was thrilled to see these treasures. And they were equally as proud to show me.

A baby cradle, now planter

I had never witnessed a stronger demonstration of family pride and heritage until I stepped foot in Casalbordino. This is their culture, their life. What I think I've failed to truly express about these experiences--of meeting "strangers" who are family--is the immediate, boundless feeling of being loved. They even tell you, without hesitation, "I love you!" It's unconditional and unwavering. How can that be, I think to myself... they don't even know me!? But I forget, I'm in the beehive. That's all that matters now.

Am I romanticizing this a little bit? Maybe, but surely not much. You can't mistake their sincerity. It comes from within. And you can most certainly see it in their eyes...

A tender moment between first cousins, whose resemblances made it all the more emotional

Below are some other Tiberio photos taken at other times.

Dad, Rita, and Onorina

Dad and Rita dancing to Glenn Miller

Rosita and Adriana

When I reflect upon my American and Italian families, I see their many differences. Neither is better than the other, but they are worlds apart, literally and figuratively. I do believe there are valuable lessons to be learned from my Italian relatives in how they live and love. They're affectionate, loyal, honest, beautiful people. They inspire me to make connections and nurture relationships both here and abroad, in all branches of my family tree, Italian or otherwise. To be a better daughter, sister, cousin, niece, and granddaughter. To think differently about my own boundaries, and to emulate their openness and the freedom with which they accept and give love. What an invaluable gift they've unwittingly bestowed upon me. I can only hope that in return my inspiration is contagious for someone reading this. 

Trovare il tuo alveare. Find your beehive.