I spent the last couple of days in Mt Shasta and McCloud California celebrating the life of my Great Uncle Kelly who passed away on Saturday. These two turn of the century Northern California towns were founded to be a center for the logging industry in California . McCloud is the birthplace of my family, the Calzoni family. Every Calzoni and Memeo had their linage begin here. My great grandparents found themselves here before the beginning of the 1900's after leaving their home in Iera, Italy. They set out to live the American dream, and make a better life for their families. They ended up nestled under one of the most beautiful mountains in the country.
This is where it all started. My great grandfather, Giacomo Calzoni. This tombstone has a rather interesting story. There are three names on it, Giacomo, his brother Luigi...and THEIR wife, Maria. That's right, two brothers that shared the same woman. Originally, Luigi was married to Maria. While married, they had my great Uncle Kelly. In 1918 Luigi died of the flu. Soon after his death, my great grandfather Giacomo married his brothers wife and had my grandfather, Pietro Calzoni. Giacomo died tragically in the lumber mill (where the ENTIRE family worked). He was crushed to death by a lumber carrier. Pete and Kelly were both in Europe fighting in the War. Working the mill was physical, and it was all the Calzoni family knew. You wouldn't believe the amount of great uncles I had that would reach out to shake my hand missing fingers lost working in the mill.
This is the house of Kelly Calzoni. He spent his whole life there. I remember spending many summers and winters at this house.
One of my favorite cars of all time. An International Scout II. One of the original SUVs from the mid 1970's. Uncle Kelly never locked the car. In fact, he left the keys in it. When I opened the door yesterday, there they were, sitting in the spot that they had always been.
Uncle Kelly is the toughest man I have ever known. At the age of 90, not only did he climb an apple tree in his backyard, he fell out of it. This is something that would surely kill someone of that age. Not uncle Kelly. He got up, dusted himself off and went to go chop some wood. He shoveled the snow off of his driveway and walkway everyday until the day he died. And every time my family pulled up to his house, he would be sitting in this plastic chair waiting for us. Here is to Uncle Kelly. Wherever you may be, I hope you are with my grandfather reliving your best days.
Snowman's hill. A hill my cousin and I would spend hours sledding down. A pretty sad amount of snow on it for mid-Janurary.
The house of Pia and Steve Memeo. My great Aunt and Uncle.
Every winter when I was growing up the Calzoni and Memeo families would converge here, the back of Pia and Steves house for Russta. A family reunion that brought people from all over the state. Uncle Steve owned a dairy and was a master sausage maker. We would spend hours sitting around huge outdoor fire pits roasting his handmade sausages. Sometimes when the snow got too much to bear, we would drag the fire pits into the garage and finish roasting in there. I didn't come from the smartest Italian family.
The family business
The hospital where my mother was born.
With the passing of Uncle Kelly, the greatest generation of the Calzoni family is all but gone. I am now starting to realize that my, and my cousin's generation is the first truly American generation. We no longer have ties to the old country. The traditions and stories are starting to fade, and the ties we have with our Italian ancestry are merely memories and photographs. The Calzoni name only exists in two sons of second cousins. But this does not mean that the family is dead. Not by a long shot. I am the benefactor of the life my family chose to pursue. It is my obligation to start new traditions. To carry on the name of the Calzoni family. I am obliged to do so,
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