Family reunion honors the start of American ancestry

Licking icing from his fingers, 3-year-old Alex DiPasquo buzzed into the arms of his grandmother.

"Did you take the smokestack off the cake?" Mickey DiPasquo, 64, said, feigning annoyance. A brightly decorated sheet cake, flaunting a map of Italy and the United States - and now, a mangled ship traveling between the two - sat on the dessert table surrounded by cream-stuffed cannolis, almond cookies, bowls of fruit, and pizzelles.

"Why do we have a cake today?" she asked the boy, brushing him with kisses.

"Because it's a party!" chirped the toddler.

On a Saturday early this month, DiPasquo gathered 66 of her relatives at her Perkasie home to celebrate an era-marking milestone: a century ago, DiPasquo's grandparents left the hillsides of Monteroduni in southern Italy, and came to America.

Angelica and Angelo Scioli were 21 and 23 respectively, when they married in early January 1914. Days later, they set sail with 180 passengers aboard the SS Taormina from the port of Genoa, arriving in Philadelphia Jan. 30.

"My grandmother said she was sick the whole time," said DiPasquo of the two-week voyage. An estimated 196,000 Italians immigrated to Pennsylvania from 1900 to 1910, with another 26,000 by 1920.

The couple moved in with Angelo's cousin on Queen Street. It was to be temporary. They would make some money and go home.

But, they never did. Four years later, they had three daughters younger than 3. The European continent had erupted in war. And then, the Great Depression happened. With the exception of Maria, Angelo's 16-year-old sister who came with them, the couple never saw their families again.

Eventually, Angelica and Angelo had another daughter and a son. They settled into a modest three-bedroom rowhouse near 10th and Tasker in South Philly, a frontier for other Italian immigrants. Angelica oversaw the home and sewed coats on the side. Angelo worked nearby as a cobbler.

On this afternoon, relatives shared lore, family traditions, and looked at old photos of the family matriarch and patriarch. On the enclosed porch, a buffet table was stocked with bread, salads, "homemades," and meatballs and chicken in tomato gravy.

"How come there's hardly any food?" needled grandson Michael Scioli Jr., 54, of Mount Laurel, while enjoying a full platter. His father, Michael Scioli Sr., who died last fall, was the last surviving child of the couple.

Later, the eight surviving grandchildren (three have died), all in their 50s and 60s, posed playfully for pictures in the yard. They wore T-shirts that read "Scioli 100 Years in America 1914-2014."

DiPasquo said her grandmother, who died 30 years ago at 91, was a short woman, who laughed and loved without reservation. She could be domineering with her own children, but engaged her grandchildren with total abandon.

But, when she'd talk about her parents and four brothers on a faraway continent, sadness prevailed.

"She used to say, 'I look at the moon, my parents look at the moon, but we no look at each other,'" DiPasquo said of Angelica, who spoke little English.

Angela Sandone-Barr, 62, of Riverton, who was named for her grandmother, recounted other mundane things, like how after Sunday Mass, her grandmom made her, her sisters, and a cousin endless servings of buttered toast and caffè latte that they'd drink from small bowls.

"I'd say, 'Grandmom, aren't you tired of making so much toast for us?' and she'd say, 'Oh no, no. Have more.' "

Another granddaughter Kathie Meinhart, 62, of Coopersburg, Pa., said Angelica would always greet her grandchildren with a big smile and a pinch to the cheeks.

"She'd say, 'face bella,' beautiful face," Meinhart said.

As outgoing as grandmom was, the group remembers grandpop, who eventually became an American citizen, as a very quiet man, who played the clarinet and poker with other Italian men. He smoked cigarettes and a pipe until he died at 68.

"He'd sit me next to him on his rocker, while he listened to Italian opera," said Maria Zebley, 71, of Mount Laurel, who is the oldest living grandchild.

Zebley's cousin, Michael DiVito, 66, of Cape May Court House, remembers playing cowboys with him.

"We'd wrap a rope around him. Sometimes, I guess, we made it a little tight," DiVito recalled, laughing. "And he'd get mad and say, 'baste, baste!' - which meant he'd had enough!"

Just like other typical American families today (if ever there really was one, beyond the black-and-whites of Ozzie and Harriet Nelson) the Scioli descendants have become as multilayered as a Thanksgiving casserole.

"We've become a real mixture," said Sandone-Barr, as Irish, Jewish, Chinese and African members have entered into the family.

Dolly Adhiambo, 38, of Redondo Beach, Calif., stood next to both the Italian and American flags that were pinned to the pool fence. The Kenyan native, who immigrated to the U.S. in 1999, flew in the night before with her fiance, Dan DiPasquo, 38, who is a great-grandson. The couple each has two children from previous unions, plus a 2-year-old daughter together.

"Dan and I are from two different cultures, but the family is important to both of us. This is wonderful to see ... I'm trying not to cry," said Adhiambo.

Great-granddaughter Sarah Meinhart, 19, adopted from China, and now a Lebanon Valley College student, called the occasion great, her family "very important."

And while the festivities ensued on this warm evening, 16-month-old Aiden DiVito, being rocked by relatives, was unaware of his own history: he is the first great-great-great grandchild and the fifth generation to be born on American soil.

"If grandmom and grandpop were here today, they would love that we are all still close," DiPasquo said. "We are family. There is a love between all of us that is amazing."