Next stop: Forlì

For reasons unknown, Vincenzo di Carlo, my great-grandfather, left Rionero Sannitico at some point and moved to another Molisano hill town, Forlì del Sannio. It was nearby, about seven miles away, or a two-and-a-half-hour walk. We assume the prospect of work is probably why he relocated, although what kind of work--farm labor? trading?--we don't know. 

The view from Forlì. 

There Vincenzo encountered a branch of the Capobianco family, who had moved to Forlì from considerably farther away, from Fragneto Monforte, a village a full 52 miles from Forlì, in a whole other region, Campania. Given the intense regional differences back then, Forlì may have seemed downright foreign to them. 

In 1886 Vincenzo married one of the Capobiancos' daughters, Maria Concetta, but the circumstances  are somewhat mysterious. Concetta, as she was known (presumably to distinguish her from her younger sisters, Maria Saveria and Maria Pasqualina), was only 20 years old when they were wed, while Vincenzo was 45. The age difference wasn't unusual in that time and place; given how much work women were responsible for and how often they died in childbirth, men often had to replace expired wives with strong young new ones. But Vincenzo, as far as our daughter has been able to determine, had gotten well into his forties without ever marrying, and bachelors in their forties were a rarity (not, of course, counting priests). 

Had Vincenzo been too picky? That seems unlikely, since choice wasn't a factor in most marriages in rural Italy back then. Perhaps he had health problems or was otherwise regarded as unmarriageable. It appears he was a lodger in the Capobiancos' home, which may explain how he and Concetta met. And what made him now seem an acceptable husband is perhaps revealed by the fact that, a mere four months after the wedding, Concetta gave birth to a healthy baby girl.

Here the bare-bones official records of births and marriages are deeply unsatisfying. What exactly happened between Vincenzo and Concetta? Between them and her family? How did the rest of the little community react? We can only imagine.

The couple certainly weren't chased out of town, since we know they remained in Forlì for at least the next nine years. They had another daughter and then a son named Pasquale, who died just a few days after he was born. At that point they formalized their civil marriage with a church wedding. Then two more daughters were born and another son, also named Pasquale. This boy survived, luckily for me, since he eventually became my grandfather. 

I'm not just a tourist--my nonno was born here!

I was glad to see his birthplace.. It is another pretty hill town with lovely views and plenty of charm, albeit with no one taking much advantage of its assets. Like most of these towns, it's probably shrinking its way to extinction.

And like the other hill towns in the area, it's also a steep place with lots and lots of steps. 

But I'm afraid the thing I remember most vividly about our visit was using the servizi in the little bar where we'd stopped for a coffee. The men in the bar sniggered a bit when the barista pointed me to the relevant door. When I got inside I saw why. 

It was a bit of tradition that I didn't much appreciate. 

I don't think this was why Forlì failed to capture my heart, though. The fact is I'd never heard of the place before our daughter started researching the family. The town that my grandfather remembered, and told his children about, was Cantalupo. So visiting Forlì felt more like checking off a data point than experiencing even a mild emotional connection. Cantalupo, on the other hand...but that's a story for the next post.