Those Before Me

Clearly I’m a masochist: I decided to do a November writing project. I was up until 5:00 a.m. last night messing with templates and avatars on all of my various journals and websites, and I spent the most time on this one, so I’d like to actually use it. (I just couldn’t bear that Inigo’s category was getting smaller and smaller in the category cloud with my previous theme, so this theme takes care of that. It’s an old one, Twenty Fifteen, but I don’t need or want a lot of bells and whistles, just a place for words.)

A lot of people on another site where I keep a journal are doing NoJoMo, but as I already do a lot of journaling, I wanted something else to nudge me along and found an old prompt list on History That Never Was, so that’s what I’m using. Hey, I’m a journalist. There needs to be an assignment. I started writing this yesterday, before I got sidetracked in all the design stuff, so I’m backdating it to November 1 and calling it a win.

Today’s word is “ancestors.” Funny that, as my sister and I were just texting about that the other day. I had asked her if she had ever gotten any DNA testing like 23andMe or Ancestry because some of my friends are always joking that despite being of known Italian descent, there must be some Viking blood in me. She hasn’t gotten any testing, so I might go ahead and do so, just for the giggles of it. She did mention that some distant cousins of ours reached out to her from Messina, Italy, so she’s going to go there when she visits Italy. I’m glad of that because we don’t know too much about my father’s side, other than one side of his family came from the mainland (Messina, I guess!) and the other came from Sicily. His grandfather came to the United States fought in the Spanish-American War, but I don’t know anything else about that generation on my father’s side.

As for my mother’s side, most of them are from Italy, some are from Eastern Europe, and they all came over and came over in the early 20th century. Apparently I’m descended from the Sforzas on my mother’s side, through her father, as one of her paternal grandfather’s had that last name. If you can trace your lineage to a male Sforza, that pretty much guarantees you’re a descendant of the famous Renaissance family, as “Sforza” is a made-up last name. The original last name was Attendolo, and when Muzio Attendolo, an Italian condottieri, founded the family dynasty, he turned his nickname, Sforza, into a last name. Here’s a bit from Britannica about it:

The son of Giovanni Attendolo, a prosperous farmer of the Romagna (in north-central Italy), Muzio left home in 1384 to join a mercenary band, eventually becoming squadron leader and then company commander in the service of different condottieri (mercenary captains), including the famous Alberico da Barbiano, who gave him the nickname Sforza (“Force”). In 1398 Muzio entered the employ of the Visconti, the rulers of Milan, but he soon left to fight first for Florence and then Ferrara.

Sforza’s son Francesco went on to rule Milan for 16 years, and the rest is very much history.

I learned all of this after I left a copy of The Duchess of Milan by Michael Ennis on my parents’ coffee table after a holiday visit in the 90s. It’s the story of the women behind the scenes during the power struggle over the Duchy of Milan in the late 15th and early 16th centuries, Beatrice d’Este and her cousin Isabella of Aragon. Isabella was married to Gian Galeazzo Sforza, the sixth Duke of Milan. Beatrice was married to Ludovico “Il Moro” Sforza, who had acted as regent when Gian was a child and too young to assume the responsibilities of Duke. As regent, Ludovico basically took over the whole operation, which led to a power struggle when Gian came of age. The book is about the competition between the two women, including who could birth the most sons, and the whole book is very lush and juicy. Plus, there are excerpts from real letters by the women as well as by none other than Leonardo da Vinci.

My mother, a voracious reader who favored whodunits, picked up the book I had left and a few days later she called to tell me that her father’s mother’s father’s last name was Sforza. So basically my great-great grandfather was a descendent of the Sforzas, though I’m not sure which branch of the family.

The best part is that my father was an artist. Da Vinci worked for the Sforzas, so once all of this came to light, it became a running joke between my parents. My mother would say she married beneath her and my father would say “and we artists are still working to keep you happy.” Then when I dug into the Sforza family history a little, I chimed in with “Look, a Sforza’s widow basically told Henry VIII’s people that Henry shouldn’t bother proposing. We women know our worth.” This would be Christina of Denmark, whose first husband was one of Ludovico’s and Beatrice’s sons and a Duke of Milan. According to legend, she said “If I had two heads, one should be at the King of England’s disposal.”

My mother’s mother’s family came from that part of the world that was always changing hands in the 19th and early 20th centuries. I have great uncles who were White Russians and escaped during the Russian Revolution and came to the U.S. with nothing but the shirts on their backs. Neither of my mother’s parents spoke English when they came over, and I wish I knew the story of how they met because at the time my grandfather only spoke Italian and my grandmother only spoke Polish, German, Russian, and Yiddish, though we’re not Jewish.

I suppose I should look into the various DNA tests. Critics go on about their accuracy and security risks (especially with the tests that show you your genetic risks for various diseases), but I don’t care. I think it would be fun to learn where the DNA leads. The results often surprise people, and I love a good surprise.

Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween! As we close out the month and Horrordailies, I thought I’d revisit a few of my more memorable costumes from over the years:

Cinderella, ages 6/7. Remember those plastic masks and highly flammable polyester costumes? Yep, one of those. Mine was a lot like this one, only my crown was gold.

Raggedy Ann, age 8. Same kind of deal.

A ghost, age 9. The ol’ sheet with holes cut out for the eyes. Worst hat-head EVER. Looking back on it, I should have cut a million holes into it like Charlie Brown.

“I got a rock.”

Nowadays, Halloween is very different. Parental competition has entered the picture the way it has with everything from Little League to science fairs, so you don’t see too many kids in prefab costumes or even masks unless it’s a superhero costume that Mom sewed herself. I suppose that’s a good thing: At least you know no kid is going to go up in flames if they lean back against an old-school radiator or another kid goes near them with a sparkler.

Halloween is very different for adults these days, too. Heaven forbid a woman isn’t a “sexy” version of something–sexy nurse, sexy cop, sexy witch, sexy nun, sexy yacht captain, sexy bull’s backside.

I was a little more creative back in the day. For instance, in 1985, I went as Madonna in her Desperately Seeking Susan era: Black crop-top lace tank, black bomber jacket, black floppy bow in my hair, black leggings, a bazillion of those black rubber bracelets, and the words “Boy Toy” written across my stomach in black eyeliner.

Oops, that was kind of sexy.

Another year I went as the Clinton Health Plan: Black top and jeans, a cardboard tombstone on my chest that said “H.R. 3600, Health Security Act” (the name of the bill), one of the famous Hillary headbands, and red duct tape everywhere. I’ve since seen the light, but it was a fun costume. Some people needed an explanation, but this being Washington, D.C., many didn’t. All the people who worked on the Hill knew what I was right away. Definitely nothing sexy about that.

These days, I don’t dress up. It’s too much trouble so I just walk around with my fangs out. Maybe next year I’ll fly around as a bat.

And now, the final candy, the one you’ve all been waiting for and may or may not despise with the searing heat of 1,000 suns: Candy corn!

Come on, did you really expect anything different? Love ’em or hate ’em, they’re Halloween in candy form.

And thus concludes this year’s Horrordailies. See you in December, for Holidailies. Be good, kids!

It’s Bat Week!

It’s Bat Week! Like all winged creatures, bats have a dear place in my heart. Contrary to old tales, they are not a menace, but a help to our ecosystem and ultimately to us. Here are three fun facts from the Bat Week website:

—The smallest bat is the Bumblebee Bat. This wee bat is little enough to hug your finger and weighs less than a penny.

—There’s no truth to the saying “blind as a bat.” Bats have eyesight comparable to ours. However, most species find their way around and locate prey using echolocation, which means they emit very high-pitched sounds that bounce off obstacles in their path.

—Almost 70% of bat species feed primarily on insects. That includes mosquitoes. Many bats eat pollen, nectar, or fruit, and are vital for pollinating flowers and spreading seeds.

If you live in an area where there are bats, and you have a bug problem, you can hang a few bat boxes and see if it helps.

Plus, bats are just cool.

Unfortunately, bats are in decline because of pesticides, habitat loss, and climate change. There is also a nasty fungal disease called White-Nose Syndrome. It has killed more than six million bats in the U.S. and Canada in only eight years. The fungus grows on the bare skin of the bats while they’re hibernating. It makes the bats more active when they’re supposed to be zonked out in their hibernation, so they burn up the fat they need to survive the winter and they starve.

But you can help! Some tips from the White-Nose Syndrome website:

—Reduce disturbance to natural bat habitats around your home. For example, reduce outdoor lighting, minimize tree clearing, and protect streams and wetlands.

—If bats are in your home and you don’t want them there, work with your local natural resource agency to exclude or remove them without hurting them after the end of maternity season.

—Plant a pollinator garden.

—Stay out of caves and mines where bats are hibernating.

—Report unusual bat behavior to your state natural resource agency, including bats flying during the day when they should be hibernating (December through March) and bats roosting in sunlight on the outside of structures. More difficult to tell is unusual behavior when bats are not hibernating (April through September), but they shouldn’t be roosting in sunlight or flying in the middle of the day. If you see a bat that cannot fly or is struggling to get off the ground, call your state natural resource agency. Try not to handle the bat. Like all wildlife, they can carry diseases, but also, you don’t want to stress our little friend out.

And now, today’s candy: Candy bats! Of course! These are great as a garnish on cupcakes.

And a little extra, my favorite True Facts video by Ze Frank. Maybe don’t watch it at work or around little kids, heh.