Backpack Rant!!!

by midgeguerrera, posted in Practical Matters - Living Abroad

 

Back you soul sucking animal!

Back – no, no, don’t – not another fall.  

Splat – ouch damn it.

Why can’t you leave me alone?  What the heck have I done to you?

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Backpacks –  brrrrrr.  The word gives me chills.  Backpacks hate me.  Collectively they have decided to bite me, push me, smack me, trip me and generally aggravate the hell out of me.  I live in Italy 6 months a year and the backpack gang has made life hell.  Unadulterated HELL!

The first time one the X%#&%@%$% attacked me was about ten years ago.  The sun was shining, my husband Jack and I were exploring Lago Como and decided to have a cappuccino.

What?  Of  course it was before 10:00 AM.  What do you think we are ugly Americans?

Speaking of ugly —– A group of obviously New York region tourists – I’m from the New York Region so I can talk nasty but watch it if you’re not from the USA – you can’t.  Anyway, these folks  were sitting around a table in front of a small  bar on a smaller piazza.  Clad in shorts, sneakers and baseball caps —  Yoo hoo – except for a nine year old have you ever seen an Italian dressed that way?  Mai!  Never!

Anyway, back to the backpacks.   Their backpacks – unbeknownst to me – were casually sitting behind their chairs, leering out of their little grommet eyes and gurrrrring.

While concentrating on carrying a cappuccino from inside the bar to a table, a backpack lunged at me.  I swear the thing lashed out and bit my ankle – well maybe it was the carabiner pin thingy  that nabbed me.  Rats that hurt – do I see blood.  No, but I do see the arrogant nasal sounding cretins who own the backpacks pulling bottled water and snacks out of the vile things to eat at the bar’s table.  PEOPLE YOU WOULDN’T EVEN THINK OF BRINGING YOUR OWN FOOD TO DISGUSTING MC DONALD’S!  Bars in Italy – as we did in Asbury Park, NJ – pay a fee to the town to be able to put tables outside.  Buy Something!

That did it – it wasn’t my fault. It was them  – really – I just had to say “Gee, I’m so sorry the market treated you guys so badly and now you’re homeless – living out of your backpacks. So sad.”

Then I smiled, sat at a table and sipped my paid for cappuccino. The backpacks growled.  Jack put his head on the table and sighed.  They weren’t kids they were folks like me – well over 50.

It was after my smart ass comment that the backpacks of the world started tormenting me.  They haunted me, followed me, tripped me and – have I mentioned –  freakin’ annoyed me.

There I was, riding the Metropolitana in Milan minding my own business when bang, smash ouch – what the X%$# – hit me in the back. I quickly turned to see a well dressed white haired woman porting a giant back back chatting with a pal – also bent over under the weight of a snarling tapestry covered evil beast.  Forgetting she had a hump on her back the idiot had swung around to chat knocking the wind out of me. “Excuse me – do you know you’re carrying a back cracking weapon on your back?”  She gave me one of those southern drawls and ignored me.

It was a lovely day in Siena – a few days before the Palio.  Jack and I were eating lunch at a lovely restaurant when a large family appeared – each and everyone had a backpack.  Maybe they were gypsies?  Nah! Starting with – DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH? – and ending with sending their kids to another restaurant to buy gelato to eat at this restaurant’s table – I realized they were as inconsiderate as one could be.  Oh the backpacks – tossed on the ground so that every waiter had to leap over them to carry food to other tables.  Jack stared at me and then put his nails in my leg – he knew I was about to explode.  What could I say that would have an impact.  Nothing.  When you are an ugly traveller you are an ugly traveller.

Instead, I called over the headwaiter and apologized on behalf of my country, explaining that we were not all “Cafone, maleducato, volgare” – mannerless creeps.   Oh, yeah even though in Italy one rarely tips – I did mention to this family that they should tip heavily because that was de riguer during Palio season in Siena.  Ooops a wee and I hope cost ’em big fib.

Backpack Montage

Bellagio photos shot within a 5 minute period.

Bella Bellagio is besieged by tourists of all nationalities but it seems only the ones that speak English and maybe German carry backpacks.  Gaggles of them.  The charming village has narrow streets that wind up hill – both sides with shops designed to tempt the tourist.  That means the tourists are quickly stopping, turning to face the windows  and smacking me in the face.  Their backpacks that is smacked me in the face, head, shoulder etc.  I’m thinking you came to town on a tourist bus – are you carrying the crown jewels? Leave your stuff on the bus.

I asked a very civilized and loving pal of mine who carries a backpack one question – Why?  For my water in case I get thirsty – every little village in Italy has a bar and a fountain –  water is accessible.  For my binoculars when I’m birding – I’m talking in Manhattan – not the woods.  Oh, well they stay in my backpack.  Then there is a sweater if I get cold, books if I get bored and the list went on.

I thought about the list and had only one comment –

When you are in Europe do you want to explore a new culture, resonate with the customs or wear a sign that says I’m An American – Bite Me?

Beware.  I am from New Jersey and I might bite you before your backpack bites me!

❤️❤️Marilina e Elio’s Festa❤️❤️

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

  
    💕Elio and Marilina – Auguri!💕

Music, not fruits and vegetables, filled the Pontelandolfo covered outdoor market. Bar Elimar’s Marilina and Elio are getting married!  They invited customers, family and Pontelandolfo pals to help them pre-celebrate. Disco lights, a band, tables, chairs, enough food to fill millions, and friendly faces transformed the market into the hottest club in town and made this one night to remember.

  
Words can’t capture the sounds of the night. The band played everything from traditional Italian to Latin to rock-and-roll. The father of the groom sang. The aunt of the groom sang. Local guys leapt up to the stage and sang. And all the voices were welcomed with cheers from the crowd. 

Everyone was dancing from toddlers to octogenarians. That’s one of the things I love about village life.  Everyone participated. Even I got up and gave it a shake or three. 

  

💞💞 Thank you, Marilina for inviting us. 💞💞

From Bridgeport, Connecticut back to Castelfranco in Miscano

by midgeguerrera, posted in Finding My Family - Genealogy
 A few weeks ago, I got a call from Nicola – one of the directors of Centro Mediterraneo Pintadera that world class language school in Alghero, Sardinia – she asked if she could give my phone number to a current student at the school.  He too was searching for his family and they were from a village not far from me.  Of course I said yes! I love the community of people who are as passionate as I am about finding their heritage. Kevin Monks and I played phone tags for a day and finally connected.  We met for coffee in Benevento and swapped family stories.  Kevin now lives in Cremorne, Tasmania – Australia!  Talk about a long trek to find your roots.
This is Kevin’s Story:
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Italian Mom and aunts in Connecticut (early 1950s)
My name is Kevin, son of an English father and US born Italian mother. My childhood memories of my Italy-born grandfather are as snapshots….just a few really, oh and one scent.
Walking up a dark hallway toward the kitchen light in Bridgeport, Connecticut. I must have escaped my bed to visit the happy sounds coming from the kitchen where adults were talking and laughing late into the night. “Pops” Gabriele stood with a smile on his face as the little boy entered into the light.
The scent that I remember is my grandfather’s pasta e fagoli soup wafting through the house. I’ve identified that precise scent only 1-2 times, both time  while visiting Italy.
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Antonio Tito Gabriele (nonno)
My mother didn’t really tell us much about Pops Gabriel (dropped the ‘e’ after immigrated to US). All she said was that he immigrated to US. (Ellis Island, then Bridgeport) when he was nine years old. His US Italian wife (Mary Ann Vertucci) died when my mother was 16 years old. Pops was born in a town called Castelfranco but she didn’t know where it was and never looked into it.
Both of my parents are gone now, but I wanted to look deeper into those few facts left to me. Starting at the usual places,/ I discovered my Nonno’s fathers name (bis nonno) and my great-great grandfathers name ( bis bis nonno). Along with the names came the point of origin – Castelfranco in Miscano.
I wanted to go see this place. Why did they leave? Adventure, poverty, famine, war? Who were they…what did they do? Well, I booked the tickets and set out from Tasmania to visit this place.
Setting out from Benevento, Campania I boarded the only once-a-day 12 seat autobus to go to my destination. The route left the flat rural farmland and snaked upwards through hilltop villages and finally stopped in the little town of Castelfranco in Miscano.
Midge had given me the best places to look, who to enquire of…so I set out for the Municipio…not a long walk (100m….double that and I would be out of town). It was an old style building with a serious looking clerk who looked at me as if I’d beamed down. “Sono Australiano…Italiano nonno”. She had that look of “great, another balmy touristico seeking truth and identity”. Well, another clerk helped with my very limited Italiano and calmly took action when the elder clerk’s expression became dark and aggravated. All good…I thanked them for a photocopy of the records they found. Bis bis nonno was a shepherd….and bis nonno was a labourer, one of seven brothers.  They gave me their email address to formally request an in-depth search. I don’t know where they were going to look…maybe out the back door and raid the church records.
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Donato (bis nonno – born 1877) Fedele and Maria Gabriele 
I popped into the chiesa to see if I could corner a padre on the matter…nobody home. Midge said to check out the al bar/ cafe in town. While grabbing an espresso I went through my basic spiel again and Lo and Behold she said someone from her family was currently in Bridgeport CT visiting family. “What? That’s my birthplace. As it turns out, almost all from Castelfranco went to Bridgeport CT. Midge, at my post trip aperitivi debrief in Benevento said it happened a lot. One goes out, writes a letter back, and the others follow the bread crumbs.
Well, I walked around the small village, snapped a few photos and headed back to the town centre. Approaching the Al Bar, I over heard the distinct accent of an Australian (am I surprised? Aussies are everywhere you least expect them). They were hanging around to see if I showed up…word had gotten around the village.  The two sisters in the bar had passed the word…relatives. Had a good chat and I learned more about Castelfranco as their nonna, a charming elderly woman, sat with us. She was born there and had lived in Melbourne for 26 years. Once her Italian husband had died she returned to Castelfranco. The Australian families had driven up to pick her up for a huge family reunion to be held in New Jersey. They were leaving to go at that moment down to Napoli to fly out to the U.S. That was a rich experience.
I wasn’t  prepared for the physical emotional effect when I first approached the little town. There must be something connecting our brain with our heart as we get close to our roots, heritage and Land-Place. It was worth the effort. I encourage anyone to take the journey! Do it while you can relay your findings and stories to loved ones still with you!

The Address is Right – Why Can’t They Find Me?

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

We rent a great apartment, one house away from the cemetery – now that is a great land mark – right?  Why couldn’t the UPS guy find us? How about this – our landlord’s family has owned this house for generations and we always include his name in our address but still the mail never finds me.  Is it because I am a middle aged woman – actually a wee bit more than middle aged and I’m freaking invisible?

I knew I was invisible in the United States.  How many times have I been ignored at a bar waiting to order a drink?  Enough that I had to bellow – “bar keep – invisible woman here.”  But to be invisible in Italy is putting me over the edge.
Last year was the first time we discovered I was invisible here.  My “codice fiscale” – like a social security number that you need to buy anything big or do any large financial transactions – was sent to me, in care of our landlord, at our address.  Where did it end up?  About a mile up the road at a family of Guerreras.  They called my cousin Carmella – whose mom is a Guerrera – and asked who Margaret Ann was?  Carmella’s husband went and got the letter and delivered my mail to me.  Thank God it is a small town.  The postman refused to believe that a Guerrera could live where we live.  I guess he never saw me when I said hello at the end of the driveway.

This year we sent three larges boxes of stuff – important stuff that we wanted in the apartment – like my grandmother’s cast iron griddle and winter coats.  The saga of the boxes is another story – but for now just know that even though the boxes were addressed to me, in care of my landlord at his address they were delivered to my cousin’s mother!  Mario, Carmella’s husband, guided the big truck back up the street to us.  Che fa?!

Yesterday was the tip of the iceberg – I am going to call Harry Potter and see if he can conjure up some anti-invisible cream.  I ordered a part from Apple Italia – that’s another story too.  It was coming via UPS.  The driver texted me that morning – a nice touch.  I replied the house was very close to the cemetery and my landlord’s name was on the gate.  That afternoon, he called and said I can’t find the house.  “Where are you?” I asked.  “By the funeral agency,” he replied. What?  I texted cemetery????   “But where are you,” he whined, “which house?”

I told him I would  meet him at the cemetery – it is the only bloody one in town.   After walking down to the front gate – it took all of 3 minutes – I waited in the shade of a mausoleum.  Where is he?  The truck passed me – I was the only person standing in the street in front of the cemetary.  I am invisible.

Rather than leave you on such a sad note, he did turn around, smile whimsically as only a twenty-something Italian hunk a bunk can and give me my package.

Can you see me?????

Ikea Salerno 

by midgeguerrera, posted in Practical Matters - Living Abroad

 Somethings are the same no matter where in the world you are! Our little adventure to IKEA, took us to IKEA in Baronissi,  provincia di Salerno. We could have been at IKEA Newark, IKEA Toronto, IKEA wherever you live!  I swear the floor plan was the same as the IKEA the Jack and I have often visited outside of Newark airport.

I bet IKEA even pays states and provinces to build special exits off major highways so that it’s really easy to find them. This IKEA has its own little loop off of the autostrada, incredible.


Of course we had to try the restaurant café. It looked like all the other restaurants. The only difference might have been the bar – complete with espresso machine and prosciutto panini.  Taste testing,  I discovered that the Swedish meatballs at IKEA Baronissi  have the same effect on my digestive track as they do when I eat them in Newark.

Now that we sold our house in New Jersey, we are really nesting in Pontelandolfo. Today’s journey bought us new furniture for the living room, new furniture for my office and a bunch of other stuff. Once you get into that market area the shopping frenzy just kicks in.

Ciao for now. The car is loaded and we are trying to figure out how to get home without the desk top smacking our heads.

Young Entrepreneurs – Arochiosco

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Stops Along the Journey - Sites Off the Tourist Track

We read about it, hear the stories and see young people with advanced degrees in architecture, engineering, and literature sitting in the piazza bar letting the days pass them by.  The economic crisis that has racked Italy has had a profound effect on young people.  If one lives in a little village like Pontelandolfo and loves living here than finding a job is nigh impossible.  This is southern Italy – it doesn’t have the manufacturing found in the north.  Nor, does it appear to have regional governments that do something about the problem.  What’s a young person to do?  Sit and stare?  Polish your friends nails while slowing sipping your €.80 bicchiere di prosecco in the bar?  After university, some twenty-five to thirty-five year olds do just that.  Others like Elena Baldini and Jean Luca Diglio create their own prosperity!

Bar Elena

I wanted to call this story “Entrepreneurial Elena” but alliteration seemed just a wee bit lighthearted for what I hope will be a series on the young entrepreneurs who are making their own employment opportunities.  Architect, Elena Baldini – who I did first meet years ago in Bar Mixed Fantasy – has the passion and drive to be successful at whatever she puts her mind to.  Last summer, she joined forces with Gianluca Diglio – who grew up in an entrepreneurial family – get his family’s back story here – http://wp.me/p3rc2m-fd.

They created Arochiosco, a neat summer time bar perched on the side of a mountain.  Found in Morcone’s Piazza M. Giuseppe Manente, the charming outdoor space features wooden gazebos with a birds eye view of Pontelandolfo, Lago Campolattaro and incredible valleys.  Sitting there was like sitting in a magical tree house.  Last summer, Jack and I originally went to Arochiosco to be supportive of the two young Pontelandolfesi.  It was so delightful, we went back just to go back.  Sitting there writing, I was reminded of afternoons spent in Fieosole – sipping prosecco and staring out over the rooftops of Firenze.  There was one HUGE difference – price point and lack of tourists!  For €3 we got a bag of chips, bowl of nuts, Campari Soda and white wine.  We also got to sit comfortably and watch the river of life that flows through Morcone.

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Gianluca

Wait a minute?  How could two kids start a bar?  That takes cash for inventory, tables, chairs – who built the wooden structures? What is the real back story here?  Well folks – networking 101!  There is a bar in Morcone – directly across the street from the piazza.  The owner after talking to Elena and Gianluca made an offer that the two hardworking youngsters couldn’t refuse.  Network?  Si!  The owner was the uncle of Gianluca’s wife and he often thought of expanding to outdoor tables on the piazza.  Since his bar was a one person shop, he couldn’t do it.  Gianluca alone couldn’t help him but the incomparable duo – Gianluca and Elena could and did.

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Elena

Elena had the bar experience – having bar tended and Jean Luca had the contact.  They worked out a percentage deal – did the hard work and created great seasonal jobs.  Networking 101!

Arochiosco open again this summer.  We will be there.  I applaud their drive and ability.  I also applaud the other young people of Pontelandolfo who are creating their own futures.  Congratulazioni!

Cell Phone Blues

by midgeguerrera, posted in Practical Matters - Living Abroad

What? No Magic Jack or Viber?

What?!  This sim from this Phone won’t work in my iPhone 6???

The first two years we stayed long term in Italy we used the telephone carrier Wind.  Here is the flash back to that first year –  http://wp.me/p3rc2m-69.

It cost us €10 a month for each phone and that got us 400 texts, 400 minutes and unlimited data. Though – after the 1st gb the data was s l o o o o w.  Unbelievable price.  The only problem we had was logistical.  The Wind signal didn’t make it to the kitchen of our stone house or any interior rooms.  But – hey for that price we answered all calls in the dining room or if that didn’t work -on the balcony.

We bought new iPhones this year and discovered new technology.  Beh!  The iPhone 6 uses a micro sim!  Perchè?  Because then you have to buy more new stuff!  Double Beh!!

Now, since we couldn’t seamlessly insert the sim from the iPhone 4’s into the new phone.  We spent our first week in Italy exploring the sights and foods of Milan – just using our Verizon Wireless Global Plan for uber emergencies – like where in the world is JACK!  The Global Plan costs more than I want to spend just to call a local Milanese restaurant – all those roaming and I can’t figure them out charges.

We needed to get an Italian sim card ASAP.  In Milan, I asked around and no one could point me to a Wind store.  Apparently, it is not in the social register of the literati.  Everyone I asked said – “oh here in Milano we use Tim.”  Tim has always been a popular phone service so we spent €45 for two sim cards and one month of usage.  Tim worked great in Milan.  Not so great in Bellagio, Rome, on the train to Boiano and not at all in our house in Pontelandolfo.  Merde!

Since we are planning on traveling around more of Italy this year, I decided to do the smart thing and research a bit.  We heard the rumor that Vodofone – which now owns a bit of Verizon – was moving towards buying into another carrier for a USA presence.  What the hey – let’s roll the dice and try Vodofone.  €15 bought us each a sim card and the first month of service.  Now it will cost us more than Wind – €16 each month for 1gb of data, 100 sms and 100 talk minutes – I think.  I say I think because we bought the sim cards in  Media World – think Best Buy type of store –  not in a Vodofone store.  I was remiss – yes, yes, I do occasionally screw up – and didn’t ask all the right questions or get a print out of what we bought.

Vodofone works everywhere in the house – even the all stone kitchen.  We get a signal – so far – knock wood – everywhere we have been.

Klunk – that is the other shoe dropping.  I bought the card and was glad because they have an app for my iPhone and an online presence.  That means I can – allegedly – recharge the card and check out any new deals on line.  WRONG.  I was born in the wrong place to do that!  One must be able to register on-line to use the app and on line services.  To register on line you have to fill in a form that includes place of birth.  Guess what?  I was born in the USA and the form only has drop downs for the EU.  UGGGG.  We did spy a Vodofone store or two and I’ll be going in asking them to please register me.

Summary – Vodofone costs us more per month than Wind but works everywhere.  Tim – well – we will just forget Tim.  USA Global plans we won’t even talk about.

Cute Guy Finds Your Lost Ancestors!

by midgeguerrera, posted in Finding My Family - Genealogy

Alexandra Rose Niedt, my incredible niece, called one day and said, “You’re buying Richie and I dinner – where shall we meet.”  Hmm, that sounded mysterious.  Alex and Rich had gone to a Performing Arts High School together.  Last I heard he was studying theater in  – well I don’t remember but some UK place or another.  Jack and I met Alex and Rich Venezia for dinner.  As Rich chatted about what he was up to, I caught the mischievous gleam in my niece’s eyes. Rich Venezia is an ancestor detective!  Give him the clues and he will track down that wayward great, great uncle Vito. Immediately I was hooked!  I wanted to hear all the stories, learn how he did what he does and the whole maghilla! richedit2

Eye Candy and Smart – A Killer Combination!

I whipped out my iPhone and went right to his website – http://www.richroots.net/.  Yes, I know I would give the mal’occhio to anyone who pulled a phone out at dinner but..  Here’s the lead in on the site;

Ever heard about that eccentric great-uncle who may or may not have spent his last years in jail? Know your family’s Italian, but don’t know whether your meat sauce should be Bolognese or Neapolitan ragù? Rich Roots Genealogy provides genealogical services to help you find your rich roots.

The reporter in me beat up the writer in me and won.  This is the interview that we shared over caffè and a sfogliatelle. Yes, the tape was rolling –
M: Cute boy – I mean Rich, how did you get started in genealogy? 
R: I was really close to my grandma – my mom’s mom.  My other grandma died when I was 7.  When I was 13, Grandma Edna passed away.  Cleaning her house we discovered the family tree she’d been working on. I was in a strange place, having lost three grandparents before the end of my first teenage year, and I thought taking up the mantle to work on the family tree would be a great way to honor both my late maternal grandmother and my father’s parents. So, from the time I started working on the “Comprehensive Camperlino Clan,” I was hooked!
M: So genealogy is a passion?
Once I started playing detective, I knew it was a role I wanted to keep on playing. I began getting more serious about genealogy as a profession, and two years ago officially started Rich Roots Genealogy.
M:  Sounds like Grandma Edna was a catalyst for your business.  Tell me more about her. R: Edna Marie Foulkes was her name. She was my only non-Italian grandparent! She was so very proud of her Irish heritage, but she was also Welsh, English, Prussian, and (recently learned) Canadian. She was kind and funny and she loved spoiling her grandchildren. I remember she had this silly fake flower pot that would play “In the Mood” when you pressed a button, and the flowers would dance. Every time I visited, we’d dance together. I remember she was silly and had a joie de vivre. I like to think I gained some of my spontaneity and passion for life from her.
M: Let’s talk about the Italian side for a second – isn’t the rest of your family Italian?
 R: Yes, ma’am! My last name is Venezia, after all! Five of my eight great-grandparents were born in Italy, and the sixth was born in Pennsylvania only a few years after her parents immigrated. They were all born in different towns, and a lot of their families had actually moved a lot before the big move, so I am up to over a dozen ancestral hometowns… and counting!
M: How much of your research, specifically into Italian records, can you really do from the USA?  
R: A whole lot, actually. The Mormon church has spent decades microfilming (and recently digitizing) records from hundreds of Italian comuni at archives all over Italy. Some of these records are online on their website, others are online on the Italian National Archives’ site, and many others are available on microfilm at the Family History Library in Salt Lake City. I’ve been very fortunate that a lot of towns I’ve been researching in lately (not my own, naturally) have been available online.
M: I know you love to travel – what about your research in Italy? What records are available there?  
R: The possibilities are endless, really. Mainly, the Archivio di Stato of the province will have the vital (stato civile) records of nearly every town in that province, as well as catasti (censuses), military records, notarial records (where one can find such amazing things as a marriage contract, land records, etc.), and all sorts of other interesting (and little-used) records. In the town itself, a visit to the church is a genealogical treasure trove. Churches in Italy were supposed to keep track of baptisms, marriages, and burials of all parishioners from 1595 onward… some started decades earlier! I am on a quest to learn about the origins of my surname (my roots are all south of Naples from what I know), so it’s on my short list to head to Atripalda and see how far Venezia goes back there.
M: How often does your work get you to Italy?   
R: I try to come to Europe at least once a year, if not more. It’s in my five-year plan to be able to offer client research in Italy, too. And now that I have a place to stay not far from Naples…
M: Any pal of Alex’s can stay with us – and give genealogical advice. What’s one bit of genealogical advice you’d give to a beginner?  
R: Never give up – because you never know where your answers may lie! Genealogy is such a multi-faceted thing. Records we’d never even think to look into may often fill in the lives of our ancestors. As well, records we may have in our home (or our close relatives may have) that we may have forgotten about could lead to some brilliant findings. Remember that dusty old shoebox in the closet, above the Christmas decorations? Time to dust if off! I firmly believe that learning about our past leads us to learning about ourselves… our ancestors’ stories are just waiting to be found. They give us – well, certainly me, at least – pride, purpose, and peace.
M: Rich, you know that I feel exactly the same way – I hope that more young people become interested in learning about their heritage as a pathway to finding out more about themselves.  Grazie mille, Rich!
Little Commercial For Our Pal – 
Since Rich began accepting clients as a professional genealogist, he has helped many others find their roots in Italy, Ireland, Lithuania, Scotland, St. Kitts, Sint Eustatius, France, Germany, The Netherlands, and of course in the USA. He is a member of local and national genealogical organizations, and has attended a number of conferences and institutes to continue his education as a professional. He recently received his Online Certificate in Genealogical Research from The Boston University for Professional Education, and is excited to be running unopposed for Vice President of the North Hills Genealogists in Pittsburgh.
Rich is based in Pittsburgh. His website is www.richroots.net.