One time while visiting my Mom's parents over
the summer for a week or so, Noni and Nono Giovacchini
in San Jose at their small farm on Spring Street,
the grandchildren had some fun with Nono.
Behind the garage Nono had a workshop which had
a steel door on it. He called it the "Jailhouse" because
of the steel door. He kept his tools and equipment
in the workshop for the farm.
One day my cousins, my brothers, and I were in
the "Jailhouse" with Nono watching
him work on a project of some sort. As we were
leaving the "Jailhouse", my cousin
Michael, the eldest of the grandchildren, locked
the "Jailhouse" door, leaving Nono
stuck inside it as a prisoner.
We all hid behind the car in the driveway and
listened to him calling for Noni, "Elana,
they lock me in the Jailhouse!, "Elana,
they lock me in the Jailhouse!!, Elana, they
lock me in the Jailhouse!!! This went on for
several minutes. Noni, heard him calling almost
right away, but I think the humor in the situation
caused her to delay responding to his calls for
help.
Noni finally came to the Jailhouse and unlocked
it for him, we could hear him speaking several
words in Italian, none of which I care to repeat
here.
My brother Chris and I as young children decided
to walk to the Boardwalk in Santa Cruz one night
from our farm in Capitola. We carefully planned
out our trip. We packed a suitcase with an extra
pair of pants for the both of us, a can of tuna,
and a butterfly we caught the day before. We
were "well prepared". We got up early
in the morning, got out of the house quietly,
and started our trip to the boardwalk.
About a block down the street, as we were passing
a neighbor's house, Marcela Braida, we saw Marcela
seated on her porch sipping coffee early in the
morning. She asked us where we were going so
early in the morning with a suitcase. We told
her that we were going to the Boardwalk and asked
her to tell our Mom and Dad that we would be
gone for a few days, but that we would be at
the Boardwalk. She told us "not to worry,
she we be happy to tell them".
A few minutes later Dad pulled up in the family
car, got out of the car, opened up the door and
said get in. It was several days before either
of us could sit down in a chair.
My Aunt Marie, my mother, and my uncle (the youngest
of the three) were inspired by the story of the
Wright Brothers in School. As young children
they lived on a farm in Saratoga where there
was a water tower. My Aunt and my mom talked
my uncle into jumping off of the top of the water
tower with an umbrella figuring that he would
fall gently to the ground suspended by the umbrella.
My grandmother, Noni, had a small umbrella; they
figured that was about the right size for their
5 year old brother. The coaxed my uncle to the
top of the water tower, encouraged him to jump,
as he jumped the umbrella collapsed and he plummeted
to the ground landing in a pile of hay.
Undaunted by their failure, after careful study,
they decided that my grandfather’s (Nono)
umbrella might be better suited for the experiment,
as it was a much larger umbrella. My aunt and
my mom discussed the matter thoroughly, examining
wind direction, aerodynamics, the strength & size
of Nono's larger umbrella, and as a safety precaution,
the amount of hay in the pile of hay below the
water tower. They were firmly convinced that
the second attempt would be successful and after
explaining all of these details to their 5 year
old brother, they convinced him to make the second
attempt.
My uncle climbed to the top of the water tower,
and with my aunt and my mom's encouragement,
jumped confidently off of the water tower, but
the umbrella collapsed under his weight and he
plummeted to earth a second time, landing in
the pile of hay at the bottom of the water tower.
Luckily for my uncle, there were no other umbrellas
left in the house, or the "Wrong" sisters
may have sent him up for a third attempt.
As an epilog, my uncle is involved today with
model airplanes having given up his "test
pilot" role for manned flight with umbrellas.
Over the years we found countless Indian artifacts
on the farm including arrowheads, Indian bowls, and other items. One
story about the Indian artifacts is worth noting here.
My Dad, Frank Beccaria, recounted a story to me about an old Indian
Skull. The skull was uncovered when the highway was being built around
1946. The highway was built on a portion of the family farm. Someone
placed the skull on a raised dirt mound under the highway. As my father
walked to the bus stop at the corner of Soquel Drive and Porter Street
to catch the bus to Santa Cruz High School, he would walk by the skull.
He remembers vividly being impressed that the skull had very long
teeth.
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