LilMtnCbn
10-17-2004, 08:10 AM
http://desmoinesregister.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20041016/OPINION01
/410160313/1035&lead=1
Hansen: Meeting a family she never knew
By MARC HANSEN
REGISTER COLUMNIST
October 16, 2004
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
------
BILL NEIBERGALL/THE REGISTER
Renee Halsted still watches the home video, but she doesn't cry anymore when
she sees it.
After traveling to Italy and meeting the brothers and sisters she only recently
knew she had, she is just about cried out. Besides, there are enough tears on
the tape to last until the next visit.
Renee and her friend Sheryl get off the plane in Milan. They go through
customs. The terminal doors open and there it is - a crowd of people holding
signs.
That woman there, Sheryl tells Renee, she looks just like you. That group she's
with has to be your Italian family.
It is, which is when the crying and hugging begins and keeps going for the next
10 days.
"I was hysterical," Renee says as we watch the video. "I was just bawling. I
never thought I'd be that emotional."
Renee "Maria Vincenza Caporaso" Halsted doesn't speak Italian. She was only 10
months old when she was adopted by her American parents and shipped from
Benevento to Des Moines.
Her two Italian brothers and her sister don't speak much English. The only
sounds coming from the video player are soft whimpers and sniffles.
Nobody speaks at all. Everybody cries and hugs. When one round of crying and
hugging is completed, another begins. Then another. Then everyone hugs Sheryl.
After 10 minutes or so, they fight over who gets to cart baby sister's luggage
to the car. Oldest brother Nicola swings an arm around Renee. Older sister
Maria grabs her hand, and everyone heads off into this strange but wonderful
relationship.
Renee had given up looking for her biological family a long time ago. She and
husband Dennis had three boys to raise in Waukee. This was the only life she'd
ever known, and she was busy living it.
All she knew was what she read in old newspaper clips and what her American
parents told her. Her biological mother died giving birth. Her father couldn't
support her and sent her to the United States as part of a new adoption
program.
And that was that until July, when Camillio Marasco showed up at Dahl's on
Hickman Road to drop off the mail the way he usually does. Renee was working
the customer-service desk the way she usually does.
But this day was different. Camillio, who came to the United States from Italy
as a teenager around 50 years ago, said he was going back for a visit.
Renee told him long ago about her roots. Now he was telling Renee it was time
to find her family, and he'd get the ball rolling.
She rounded up the few documents, letters and newspaper articles she had. He
made a few phone calls overseas.
"I would have called the pope himself if I had to," he says.
In a matter of hours, he did what the Red Cross, the Italian and American
consulates and any number of agencies couldn't. He found Renee's family.
Soon he was meeting Nicola Caporaso in Italy and helping arrange Renee's visit.
Renee didn't know what to expect. Camillio tried to fill her in.
"They will hug and kiss you so much," he told her, "you won't have a face left
by the time you come back."
Camillio pretty much nailed it. They hugged her. Kissed her. Patted her.
Pinched her cheek and said, "Bella, bella."
A cousin was the only one who spoke fluent English, but communicating wasn't a
big problem.
Mario, 51, would sing Beatles songs to Renee in English. Luigi, 64, would sit
and stare at her until his eyes filled with tears.
First-born Nicola, 67, wanted her all to himself and pouted when he had to
share. Renee nicknamed him "The Boss," and they all understood what she meant.
The truth is, Renee felt like part of the family the moment they met. As if 48
minutes - not 48 years - had passed since they'd last been together.
"It was fabulous," Renee says.
They ate two-hour lunches and late dinners. Renee drank the best wine she ever
tasted and ate way too much of the best food.
They told her, through one of the nieces, how they lost her. When their mother
died, their grandmother took care of her.
"When she died," Renee says, "my father's sister talked him into giving me
away. When my father remarried, his second wife told him you need to get your
daughter back from America. But it was too late."
The letter Nicola saved from an Italian official was a heartbreaker: The
adoption decree is sealed and nobody can open it. This little girl is sincerely
loved and looked after by her adoptive parents. We are sorry we cannot be of
any help to you.
Help arrived years later in the form of Marasco, who runs a tailor shop with
his wife in Clive.
"He's a saint," Renee says.
A saint, a translator. Even a mediator.
No family is perfect. Renee wanted to visit her birth place in Campoli, which
is an eight-hour drive from Turin. Nicola wanted her to stay put.
The disagreement turned into a family feud.
"They were all screaming in Italian," she says. "Luigi and his wife got their
coats and started to leave. I started crying and wondering, why am I here?"
Finally, they called Marasco in Des Moines. Put Renee on the phone, he said.
"I'm going to ask her if she wants to visit her hometown," Camillio said in
Italian. "If she tells me yes, you must let her go."
Yes. The family paid for Renee and Sheryl to fly to Naples.
"I felt like a movie star in Campoli," Renee says. "Everyone came out to meet
me."
Including the evil aunt - the "wicked witch," Renee calls her - who told her
father to put her up for adoption. The woman grabbed her and hugged her.
"It took two people to pry her off me. I just wanted to get out of there.
Seeing her was the only bad part of the trip."
What a thing to do to a child. Renee still can't get over that idea. But she
can't stay angry for long. She isn't bitter. The way it turned out, she says,
obviously is the way it was meant to be.
She plans on going back every year, even if Dennis makes her give up cable TV
to pay for it. And she wants Dennis and the boys along next time.
Renee and Dennis had been thinking about moving out of their home, downsizing
now that the kids are gone. Not anymore. With all the new family members to put
up, they need the room.
-------------------------
A good friend will come and bail you out of jail . . . but, a true friend will
be sitting next to you saying, "Damn . . . that was fun!"
-----Unknown
/410160313/1035&lead=1
Hansen: Meeting a family she never knew
By MARC HANSEN
REGISTER COLUMNIST
October 16, 2004
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
------
BILL NEIBERGALL/THE REGISTER
Renee Halsted still watches the home video, but she doesn't cry anymore when
she sees it.
After traveling to Italy and meeting the brothers and sisters she only recently
knew she had, she is just about cried out. Besides, there are enough tears on
the tape to last until the next visit.
Renee and her friend Sheryl get off the plane in Milan. They go through
customs. The terminal doors open and there it is - a crowd of people holding
signs.
That woman there, Sheryl tells Renee, she looks just like you. That group she's
with has to be your Italian family.
It is, which is when the crying and hugging begins and keeps going for the next
10 days.
"I was hysterical," Renee says as we watch the video. "I was just bawling. I
never thought I'd be that emotional."
Renee "Maria Vincenza Caporaso" Halsted doesn't speak Italian. She was only 10
months old when she was adopted by her American parents and shipped from
Benevento to Des Moines.
Her two Italian brothers and her sister don't speak much English. The only
sounds coming from the video player are soft whimpers and sniffles.
Nobody speaks at all. Everybody cries and hugs. When one round of crying and
hugging is completed, another begins. Then another. Then everyone hugs Sheryl.
After 10 minutes or so, they fight over who gets to cart baby sister's luggage
to the car. Oldest brother Nicola swings an arm around Renee. Older sister
Maria grabs her hand, and everyone heads off into this strange but wonderful
relationship.
Renee had given up looking for her biological family a long time ago. She and
husband Dennis had three boys to raise in Waukee. This was the only life she'd
ever known, and she was busy living it.
All she knew was what she read in old newspaper clips and what her American
parents told her. Her biological mother died giving birth. Her father couldn't
support her and sent her to the United States as part of a new adoption
program.
And that was that until July, when Camillio Marasco showed up at Dahl's on
Hickman Road to drop off the mail the way he usually does. Renee was working
the customer-service desk the way she usually does.
But this day was different. Camillio, who came to the United States from Italy
as a teenager around 50 years ago, said he was going back for a visit.
Renee told him long ago about her roots. Now he was telling Renee it was time
to find her family, and he'd get the ball rolling.
She rounded up the few documents, letters and newspaper articles she had. He
made a few phone calls overseas.
"I would have called the pope himself if I had to," he says.
In a matter of hours, he did what the Red Cross, the Italian and American
consulates and any number of agencies couldn't. He found Renee's family.
Soon he was meeting Nicola Caporaso in Italy and helping arrange Renee's visit.
Renee didn't know what to expect. Camillio tried to fill her in.
"They will hug and kiss you so much," he told her, "you won't have a face left
by the time you come back."
Camillio pretty much nailed it. They hugged her. Kissed her. Patted her.
Pinched her cheek and said, "Bella, bella."
A cousin was the only one who spoke fluent English, but communicating wasn't a
big problem.
Mario, 51, would sing Beatles songs to Renee in English. Luigi, 64, would sit
and stare at her until his eyes filled with tears.
First-born Nicola, 67, wanted her all to himself and pouted when he had to
share. Renee nicknamed him "The Boss," and they all understood what she meant.
The truth is, Renee felt like part of the family the moment they met. As if 48
minutes - not 48 years - had passed since they'd last been together.
"It was fabulous," Renee says.
They ate two-hour lunches and late dinners. Renee drank the best wine she ever
tasted and ate way too much of the best food.
They told her, through one of the nieces, how they lost her. When their mother
died, their grandmother took care of her.
"When she died," Renee says, "my father's sister talked him into giving me
away. When my father remarried, his second wife told him you need to get your
daughter back from America. But it was too late."
The letter Nicola saved from an Italian official was a heartbreaker: The
adoption decree is sealed and nobody can open it. This little girl is sincerely
loved and looked after by her adoptive parents. We are sorry we cannot be of
any help to you.
Help arrived years later in the form of Marasco, who runs a tailor shop with
his wife in Clive.
"He's a saint," Renee says.
A saint, a translator. Even a mediator.
No family is perfect. Renee wanted to visit her birth place in Campoli, which
is an eight-hour drive from Turin. Nicola wanted her to stay put.
The disagreement turned into a family feud.
"They were all screaming in Italian," she says. "Luigi and his wife got their
coats and started to leave. I started crying and wondering, why am I here?"
Finally, they called Marasco in Des Moines. Put Renee on the phone, he said.
"I'm going to ask her if she wants to visit her hometown," Camillio said in
Italian. "If she tells me yes, you must let her go."
Yes. The family paid for Renee and Sheryl to fly to Naples.
"I felt like a movie star in Campoli," Renee says. "Everyone came out to meet
me."
Including the evil aunt - the "wicked witch," Renee calls her - who told her
father to put her up for adoption. The woman grabbed her and hugged her.
"It took two people to pry her off me. I just wanted to get out of there.
Seeing her was the only bad part of the trip."
What a thing to do to a child. Renee still can't get over that idea. But she
can't stay angry for long. She isn't bitter. The way it turned out, she says,
obviously is the way it was meant to be.
She plans on going back every year, even if Dennis makes her give up cable TV
to pay for it. And she wants Dennis and the boys along next time.
Renee and Dennis had been thinking about moving out of their home, downsizing
now that the kids are gone. Not anymore. With all the new family members to put
up, they need the room.
-------------------------
A good friend will come and bail you out of jail . . . but, a true friend will
be sitting next to you saying, "Damn . . . that was fun!"
-----Unknown
