I was told that Enrica was my grandma’s original name. One of the documents at her funeral was a report card with the name Enrica, not Rae or Rachel. I called her Grandma Rae, short for Rachel. My questions really started at my grandmother’s funeral, where someone had put together a display of mementos from her life. I didn’t know how twisted my family stories were until I found documents that disproved much of what I thought I knew about my ancestors - such as my grandma’s name, my grandpa’s name, where my great-grandparents were from, and how many kids they had. Tip 2: Family stories may be flawed, but you should collect as many as possible The first step, experts say, is to conduct as much research here as you can. I wanted to know from whom.Īn entire industry has sprung up to help you dig into your family story: researchers, books, TV shows and online tutorials. But the DNA results only tell us vaguely where we came from. His results showed we are 72% Europe West, 9% Great Britain, 6% Ireland/Scotland/Wales, and 13% who knows what. Since 2012, when started offering DNA tests, it has completed 7 million of them, including one for my brother. Likewise, ABC News has reported that genealogy is Americans’ second-most popular hobby, after gardening. According to Time, genealogy websites are the second-most visited website category, after porn. The internet has made genealogy easier and more popular. The desire to comb through the past is universal. Tip 1: There are tons of resources and experts to help you find your relatives He said his great-grandfather’s name was Luigi.ĭid I really just drive into the Alps, yell to a guy on the street, and find that we’re related? Mike Pellinni Costantino saw the name Luigi Stoffella - my great-great-grandfather. I reached into the front seat of my rental SUV and grabbed a legal notebook full of genealogical research. My great-grandmother’s last name was Stoffella.” He introduced himself as Costantino Rigon. He appeared to be in his early 30s and was wearing a red T-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers. There was a pickup truck blocking it, and a man unloading firewood from its bed. I turned onto a residential street the approximate width of a shopping cart. After months of investigating my family history, I wasn’t sure of anything. Camposilvano was her hometown, where her family had owned a hotel called the Albergo Alpino. I visited to look for traces of my great-grandmother. The population here is listed at 65, and I wondered if that was inflated. I parked at one end of town and could see clear to the other, only a few hundred yards away. One day in October I drove into the Alps of northern Italy to a teensy village called Camposilvano.
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