VISITING ITALY IN SPIRIT: ‘The Key To My Grandfather’s House’

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The key my brother kicked up in the grass. | 2003 photo by DAVID IMBROGNO

No one can visit Italy right now because of the coronavirus shutdown. Italy needs a lot of love and care, given the country’s terrible losses from the coronavirus. Yet if we can’t get there in body, we can go there in spirit. I’ve been moving the video work I feel most worth seeing to TheStoryIsTheThing. I invite you to spend a bit of your lockdown time and head out. Not only to the Italian countryside, but to Italy’s past.

“The Key To My Gandfather’s House” originated as a powerful photo-essay, crafted by my older brother, David. We traveled to Italy in Fall 2003, along with our Italian aunts, Teresa and Loretta. The goal was to meet family we still still have in the Calabrian town of Rende. And from there to head into the hills and visit the house where my father was born, on a hillside where generations of family lived.

The village of San Pietro en Guarano—the town named on my father’s birth certificate—was visible high in the hills that ring Rende. The town appeared only as a small tan smudge up in the green hills as seen from the 5th floor balcony of a relative’s porch. After pointing it out, our relative used scissors to snip off some small red peppers growing in a pot. They added a spicy kick to that evening’s homemade pasta.

The hillside where my father, Dulio, was born and our Italian forbears lived for generations was a short drive downhill from San Pietro en Guarano. Or a longer donkey trot. (I came home with a rusty donkey or mule horseshoe found in the tall grass near his house. It’s in my living room behind a Buddha statue, as we speak.)

It was a momentous trip in many ways. I will let the video speak to that.


A rose bush flanked in the back by an olive grove at the top of the Calabrian hillside where our father was born. | 2003 photograph by DAVID IMBROGNO

A couple of months after we returned, a Fed Ex package arrived at my house in West Virginia, sent by David in Ohio. I pulled from the envelope a thick print-out of what looked like a long poem, illustrated by some of the remarkable photos he’d shot throughout the trip. It was so powerful and so good, I was weeping before it was done.

David and I later collaborated on a shorter video version of what we call in brotherly shorthand “The Key.” Here it is below. I invite you to set aside some moments of your sheltering-in-place to experience it. It’s the immigrant tale of one Italian family, but it could be the kindred tale of millions of families across innumerable cultures through time.

This particular story began on a steep Calabrian hillside in the early 20th century. It then shifts to two ocean liners, leaving the nearby port of Naples in the 1920s, but at an interval of a half-decade. The story steams across the Atlantic through Ellis Island. It lands in the multi-ethnic town of Lorain, Ohio, on the shores of Lake Erie.


A family gathering, circa the 1960s, in the basement of the house in Lorain, Ohio, where my grandparents settled. Eugene and Catherine Imbrogno are the first two folks at the table. A cousin now lives in the house, the grandson of Grandpa Gene and Grandma Catherine. (His father, Bob Imbrogno, is the fellow in the suit and dark hair across the table, my grandparents’ youngest son who was born in Lorain.) | Family photograph

Through it all, the tale circles around themes of family, emigration, loss, stormy emotions and heritage. Your reactions are welcome in the comments below with any feelings or thoughts it may stir up, perhaps from your own immigrant roots. In one way or another, we’re all descendants of immigrants from somewhere and someplace. (And we remain a nation of new immigrants and are made stronger by them.)

As David puts it so eloquently:

The tale of “The Key To My Grandfather’s House” is not mine, nor my brother Doug’s. It is our family’s story. Normally, I would say that I wrote it. Actually, I feel as if I “channeled” it from our ancestors. I am usually a visual communicator but here the words came to the forefront and my photographs reverted to snapshots. Our aunts, Teresa and Loretta, who accompanied us, might have been the mediums through which our ancestors channelled the story.”


David adds: “Please, find a quiet place to enjoy the sixteen-minute show. Turn on the sound and watch it full screen.”



NOTE: This video can be viewed as a separate stand-alone work of art, but it is also a companion piece to a spoken-word live performance by David. Contact him about stagings of that performance at ‘dave AT CowGarage.com.’ You can also subscribe to this website’s free email newsletter for news about stagings or additions to “The Key” and other of my own work at: thestoryisthething.substack.com

The house where my Italian grandmother, Caterina Napoli, grew up at the top of the hill. She met my grandfather, Eugenio Imbrogno, when his family moved into the house at the bottom of the hill above Rende in the Calabrian Provence of Cosenza. | 2003 photograph by DAVID IMBROGNO

THIS VIDEO IS A CO-PRODUCTION by David Imbrogno and Douglas John Imbrogno. | Current version as of April 7, 2020

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