Chelsea DeLeon

1/22/17
ARE 6933:Globalization and Art Education
Family Migration Study

Studying the migration of my family has been quite an interesting journey.

Until this research Ive had a shallow depth of knowledge about how my family
came to be Americans. It seems that my great and great-great grandparents came
from Italy, Germany, Mexico, and Spain. For this migration study, I sought to find
stories about the family members that managed to immigrate to America.
Timdaro Crosses the Atlantic
After talking to my maternal grandfather about his family I found perhaps my
familys oldest story. Timdaro Costantino was born in Sicily in 1896. His family were
Sicilian farmers that had a family knack for making wine. Timdaro, for reasons
unknown to his grandson, migrated to America in 1917. He entered the United
States through Ellis Island. Timdaro was living in New Yorks little Italy working as a
butcher when he met his wife Maria Carnevale who was from a small town in
Northern Italy; my grandfather described her as more of a German mountain
woman than an Italian. Timdaro then joined the military and served as a domestic
butcher in San Antonio, Texas and Europe during World War I. Because his last
military station was in San Antonio, he and Maria made San Antonio their home.
Timdaro and Maria had five children among whom was my great-grandfather
Mario Pop Costantino. One of my earliest memories is of Pop. When I was born in
1990 Pop was diagnosed with prostate cancer, I remember sitting on his hospital
bed and watching him smile at me. Pop, a reportedly kind and jovial man, managed
to go to the University of Texas in the 1950s where he met my great-grandmother
Cathy Benalli, or CiCi as she was always called by family, while she was working as
a secretary at the Governors mansion in Austin, Texas. CiCi gave up her job at the
Governors mansion when Pop bought a pharmacy in San Antonio and became a
stay at home mother. CiCi to this day has a reputation for making the best Spaghetti
sauce that has never been adequately recreated (after many, many tries my
grandfather admitted). Cici, after our short conversation last week, admitted that
she still feels regret for not keeping her job at the Governors mansion because
shes always had a passion for politics. She also told me that in the 1950s her family
and friends expected her to be a stay at home mother, especially because her
husband had an upper-middle class job. My grandfather Rick (or Pickle as we call
him) remembers growing up feeling proud and aware of his Italian heritage. He
described the biggest difference from himself and his non-Italian friends was his
familys Catholic faith. They often, in fact, entertained priests, bishops, and nuns
(who were members of the family). Pickle fondly remembers his childhood as
spending time with his father and raucous uncles who he describes as typical loud
Italians who spoke Spanish instead of Italian and were the life of any party.
The Biggest Family Secret
Talking to my maternal grandmother about her family revealed the best kept
family secret I discovered. My grandmothers maternal grandmother was German.
My great-great-grandmother Dorthea Pharisee was born in Ingolstadt, Germany and
was Jewish. Her family immigrated to America in the early 1900s before World War I
due to the growing anti-Semitic sentiment in Germany. When they immigrated they
moved to South Carolina where Dortheas father changed their family name to Faris
to avoid discrimination in their new home. I knew of Dorthea Faris, I met her once as
a child. I remember her green velvet couch and her lemon pound cake, but was
entirely unaware of the change they made upon entering the United States.
Immigration gave the Pharisee family a chance to change their faith and identities
and to live a life without discrimination, but I wonder, if we could talk to Dorthea
today, if she would express any regrets about changing her name and faith. My
grandmothers family did not find out about the change in name and faith until
Dorthea passed and they found her original German paperwork.
Fernando, Fernando, Fernando, and Maria
My father, Fernando, is Mexican, and in contemporary society there are many
stereotypes about Mexicans and their immigration to the United States. I grew up
thinking that my grandparents were probably illegal immigrants, but after doing a
little family research, I discovered that my family are legal American citizens with
legitimate claims to their citizenship.
My grandfather Fernando was born in America, however his family were from
Spain and Mexico. In the early 1900s my great-great grandfather Fernando
(Fernando is a family name, even my brothers name is Fernando) immigrated to
Mexico from Spain and married a native Mexican woman named Maria. A decade or
so later (according to my grandmother) they immigrated to Texas as legal citizens
and had nine children. Fernando lived to be 104. I met him once, he had green eyes
and spoke only Spanish in his old age. He really enjoyed showing me pictures of my
dad in the 1970s when my dad thought he was cool.
My Grandmother Marias family history was a bit more complicated than her
husbands. Her family lived in Monterrey, and on a trip to Texas in the 1940s her
mother went into labor and had her older brother Mateo in a hospital in San Antonio.
This rather complicated my grandmothers family history for the better. Her brother
Mateo was born and American citizen, and even though he grew up with his family
in Mexico, when it came time for him to be drafted into the Mexican Army in the
1950s he was rejected because he was technically an American citizen. Mateo
moved to San Antonio and then arranged to have his parents and siblings join him.
My grandmother immigrated when she was sixteen and worked at a grocery store
until she married my grandfather. My grandmother told me that she met my
Grandfather at a night club where he was a member of a Mariachi band. My last
memory of my grandfather, who was a kind, happy, and social is of him playing his
accordion and singing hymns for my family.