The Sentinel Woman

Immigration is often talked about in numbers and policies, but my family’s story is deeply personal. My great-grandparents’ five children — Silvio, Elio, Severo, Nino, and Nella — all lived in the small town of Bisenti, Italy. The oldest, Silvio, died from war wounds, a traumatic event that affected the entire family and shaped their path forward; today, a plaza in the center of Bisenti is named in his honor.

Elio, Severo, and their first cousin Pietro — served in the front lines in the Italian army during World War II. While POWs on the northern African front, they endured harsh conditions. Back in Bisenti, Italy, Pietro’s mother was distraught, having already lost her only other son to illness, and now facing the uncertainty of her surviving son in captivity. Even in those circumstances, Pietro became a master tailor as a POW, and was later offered a chance to stay after the war because of his skill, but he declined and returned to Italy, then immigrated to the United States. Meanwhile, my grandfather Nino served in the Italian army off the front lines, as his brothers’ captivity and Silvio’s death meant he was needed at home and away from direct combat. The family’s faith remained strong — Pietro’s late brother, Pasqualino, is being considered for canonization, the Catholic Church’s formal process for declaring someone a saint. The process has already begun in Rome, where he is recognized as a “servant of God,” and people continue to pray for his cause to advance. Read more here:

https://catholicreview.org/pietro-canzi-st-dominic-parishioner-prays-for-brothers-canonization/

After the war, Elio and Severo immigrated to Venezuela, thriving in a growing economy working as tailors. Later, in the late 1950s, both acquired U.S. work permits, but Severo chose not to use his. Nino, in Italy, applied under the same quota, with guidance from cousins Uncle Pietro and Uncle Fifi — skilled tailors in Baltimore — helping him make the move. These decisions shaped the family’s path to America.

Nino immigrated to the United States with my grandmother, my father, and his two brothers, and all became lawful permanent residents, traveling on Italian passports. Nino then encouraged my grandmother’s first cousin, Alessandro (Alex), to bring his family over from Southern Italy as well, expanding the family network in Baltimore. My grandparents and our extended cousins lived next door to each other, creating a communal type of living common in Italy, where families supported one another and shared daily life. For me, this fostered a very strong sense of family closeness, preserving a sense of home and continuity even in a new country.

My grandfather made many coats and suits for the men and women in the family, passing on his tailoring skills. My sisters and I always had beautiful coats for special occasions, a tangible reminder of his craftsmanship. He was the last in the family to work as a tailor, but through his and my grandmother’s hard work, the men and women in the family were able to go to college. We stayed connected with family in Italy through occasional phone calls, especially during extended holiday gatherings, and while visits were sporadic and often one person at a time due to costs, we still see each other and continue these cherished traditions.

For my father, full membership in America came in 1982, when he chose U.S. citizenship. Studying for the test and taking the oath brought immense pride — not just legally, but personally.

Our family story shows that immigration is more than a process — it’s a journey of courage, resilience, and connection. From Bisenti to Venezuela, from Venezuela and Italy to the U.S., and through every visit and call, their choices shaped generations. Behind every green card and passport is a story of hope, adventure, and identity.