My sister's friend is in the process of putting together photos from Vestone, (BS) Italy. What separates this group of photos from so much of the geneology bric a brac that now fills so many websites is that this little town sat at a various nexuses of the 20th century while remaining until recently a small mountain town. The fact that the photos include my Grandmother and Great-aunts makes for more interest for me as well.
Vestone, where my mother is from is one of those places where big things and small things seem to meld. It sits on the road from Austria to the Po Valley. It is a place where Gallo-Italian culture meets German Culture and you can see in the faces the many people who have moved up an down the valley's walls.
For me it has always been the place that I am from. I was born in America but my history for years is from this little place. In fact my family owned the same Albergo from 1413 until 1976. Often today I think kids are taught the kind of platitudes grandparents share.
The stories I heard from these people where of great things. Wars, Art, Literature and great meals and I am thankful that I knew them and carry their images inside of me.
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