Saturday, December 7, 2013

December 7, 2013

Well, I can't believe it, but this is Camillo's last letter from his epic "field trip" to the United States in 1893-94. He was gone from Ivrea for about ten months, but he's been with me now, for just over two years, and to come to the end of this set of letters is a bittersweet milestone.

I almost didn't do this project. In fact, I had resolved to not do it. For years, maybe since I was eighteen, I had carried this little book along with me wherever I went. I can see it on my raw wood desk in New York City, I can see it in a milk crate in my first apartment in San Francisco, and it sat on a shelf here in Palo Alto for many years.

By summer 2011 when we decided to go to Ivrea for my uncle's 70th Birthday I was no longer a single gal on my own (really, what did that single gal do with the time??), but a mother of three young daughters, with a full and busy life. The idea that we were taking our then eighteen month-old, five year old and seven year old to Europe for a month was overwhelming enough that when I went to pack the little book, I thought to myself, "Forget it. Just do yourself a favor and officially cross this project off the list." As I was putting the book down, it half slipped out of my hands, my fingers grasped the book between two pages, and I glanced at the gap that had opened.

The letter I was looking down at was "Palo Alto, Cal, 14 novembre 1893."  

I felt like someone or something was reaching out to me to say, "no, no, no....you cannot put this down. you are the one this project is for." I glanced upward to the ceiling, to the sky, to the universe and thought to myself, "oh alright, alright, I'll do it," feeling more than slightly put upon by fate or my ancestors or whatever forces were conspiring to give me one of those "meant to be" moments that was committing me to a project I had neither the time nor the resolve to take on. I packed the book, brought it with me to Italy, and once again, didn't touch it.

But when I got back to Palo Alto in August, I had been so moved by my return to Italy, the first trip in 15 years, a long stretch for me, who grew up visiting just about every summer as a girl, that for the first time, I felt fully committed.

That is not to say that the work proceeded quickly.

In my life as a mom home with little ones, big chunks of time were rare to come by, and so I approached the project Kaizen style. What that looked like for me was this:

In the morning I would creep out of my bedroom and tip-toe through my dark, slumbering household. I would put water on to boil, then sit down to translate two or three sentences. By the time the teapot was jiggling and spewing steam, I was often about two thirds the way through my very small daily goal, and my oldest daughter, hair akimbo, still cloaked in the scent of her previous night's journey through dreams and imaginary worlds, would appear by my side for her morning hug. She was usually patient as I tied up a last sentence, but many, many days I cut my goal short. Many days I didn't even get this far. There were weeks that were full of the bustle of school performances or holidays, weeks in which the children or I were ill, weeks while the house got repainted, many kinds of weeks in which I could not steal that slice of morning time.

And so it was, the project stretched out.

But all along the way, despite the fact that my pace did not at all meet my own expectations, the tempo seemed to be following some other kind of encouraging logic. For example, I translated the letters in which Camillo arrives in Palo Alto, in the Fall of 2012. And so I became very attuned to the historical plaques around town. It turns out a lot happened during that year in Palo Alto. Among other things the first public school opened on September 1893, and according to a plaque I found, my youngest daughter started school on exactly the same day that school opened for the first time, ever, in Palo Alto--where Camillo himself had just arrived and been hired to work as an assistant professor. Small things like that happened all the time, most recently, I took my daughters to see Harvard Square for the first time, right as I was translating the letter in which Camillo also visited Harvard Square for the first time.

But of all of the coincidences, there is one that means more than all of them to me. During the time that I was working on these letters, my brother and his new wife were trying to get pregnant. It wasn't easy for them, so their journey had twists and turns, and the pace certainly did not conform to their expectations. However, ultimately, everything came together the way we always hope things will, and my sister-in-law became pregnant with a boy.

I think my brother knew I was working on these letters, although I need to ask him to what extent he was aware of my daily "visits" with my great-grandfather, Camillo. I, on the other hand, was totally blind to what my brother was working on.

When my nephew was born on September 3, 2012, my brother called me to share the news. He and my sister-in-law had been very cagey about the name, wisely avoiding unwelcome feedback and suggestions from excited well-meaning relatives. So when my brother told me my nephew's name, August Camillo Olivetti, I was so shocked I almost fell off my chair.

By this time I had been translating for well over a year, and had come to feel that I was somehow actually channeling my great grandfather, that his humor, his powers of observation, and his adventurous spirit were coming alive somehow in me, on the page, over the internet I'm not sure where--but there was a palpable sense of life flowing. So when I heard that my nephew was to bear his name, it was as if time liquified and I was in many years at once. It is hard to explain, and from a reader's perspective I'm sure it's even more difficult to believe or feel into, but it felt like certain threads of things came together and many regular assumptions fell apart. And more than anything else, I felt as if I had known and loved this new baby for a very, very wide expanse of time that cannot be measured in the regular way. That feeling for him only continues to grow, and as far as this small translation project goes, I feel encouraged that my nephew might enjoy reading about his namesake, giving the project at least an audience of one.

So without expectation, but accompanied by countless unplanned delightful moments, this project unfolded one sentence at a time. For someone who grew up a striver, who as a habit had tried to set high bars, and who felt quite reduced (I'm embarrassed to say) by the day to day pace of life brought on by babies and children, this project changed me in a fundamental way. It has helped me trust life a little more. It has shown me that time is something all together different than the measure of hours and days, it has proven to me that I am very small in space and time, but am invisibly threaded together with people and life in ways I don't understand, in a way that makes me feel a part of something bigger than I had thought of before.

To those of you who have followed along the last couple years. Thank you. This is a rough draft to be sure, but some work got done and it was nice to have company. To those of you who are glancing at the project for the first time, I promise to follow up with links to some of the really fun posts, like the one in which Camillo meets Thomas Edison, or the one in which he describes the construction of the quad at Stanford. I am grateful to have been able to be a conduit for the voice of this opinionated, funny, stubborn, adventurous, innovative electrical engineering student. The process benefitted me more than I could have imagined when I reluctantly agreed to take on the project.

With love,
Cristina


*****

In the book of letters I have, this one is dated 12-7-94, but I have to imagine that this dating is an error of the original transcriber.  Hardly any of the other letters are dated in this style (as opposed to writing out the month, ie 4 giugno 1894), it seems unlikely that Camillo would have mistaken the month, and the letter does seem to be the last one written before he embarks on the Fulda.


Philadelphia 12-7-94


Carissima mamma


Non so se questa mia ti arrivera prima della mia persona.  Probabilmente si.  Ad ogni modo te la scrivo avendo a narrarti quanto feci in quest’ultima settimana.


Come ti ho scritto ho dovuto penare alquanto per trovare un posto, essendo tutti i vapori quasi completi e rimanendo solo vacanti poche cabine a prezzi altissimi.


Ho preferito questa volta fare il viaggio su di un vapore diretto a Genova per molte ragioni tra le altre perche piu economico, ragione piuttosto importante specialmente perche mi trovo dopo aver pagato il biglietto ad un ablativo quasi assoluto.  Dico quasi perche realmente ho ancora abbastanza per andar avanti fino al sabbato, giorno della partenza, e avere ancora in tasca una sessantina di lire per spese di dogana etc. ma non molto di piu.

Dearest mother,
I don’t know if this letter will arrive before I arrive in person.  Probably yes.  At any rate, I’m writing it, narrating what I did in this last week.

Like I wrote to you I had to suffer a little to find a spot, being that all the ships are just about full and the only vacancies that remain are a few cabins at high prices.

This time I preferred to make the trip on a boat headed directly to Genoa for a lot of reasons, among others, the most important reason really is economical, especially because after having paid for the ticket I find myself at a quasi “ablative absolute” (this is a term for a Latin construction in which the pronoun and its adjunct form one single phrase that indicates the time/cause of an action...I think this is a way of Camillo expressing that he is absolutely at the end of it all...money,time, etc).  I say quasi because realistically I have enough to get by until Sunday, the departure day, and then I have another 60 lire in my pocket for customs expenses, etc. but not much more.

Cio mi rincresce specialmente perche non potro portare niente o quasi a Emma ed ai bambini del che essi saranno assai malcontenti ma d’altra parte la mia lettera di credito e finita e scaduta ed io non ho ne tempo ne voglia di farmene venire un’altra.

In questi giorni ho girato New York ed i dintorni e sono venuto alla conclusione che la miglior cosa che vi e nella metropoli degli Stati Uniti e il famoso Central Park, un enorme parco deliziosissimo situato nel centro della citta, ove per lo meno si respira un’aria meno infocata e polverosa di quella che i nostri polmoni son costretti ad inalare nel Tenderline.  A New York avevo preso in affitto una bellissima camera a 75 cents al giorno.

I regret this, especially because I won’t be able to bring back anything, nearly nothing, at least, to Emma and the children, and because of this they will be unhappy, but on the other hand my line of credit is over and expired and I have neither the time nor the desire to make arrangements for another.

These last few days, I toured New York and its surroundings, and came to the conclusion that the best thing in this Metropolis in the United states is the world famous Central Park, an enormous absolutely delightful park situated in the center of the city, where at least you can breathe less smoky dusty air than our lungs are forced to inhale in the Tenderline (this is the nickname, at the time, for a bustling neighborhood in Lower Manhattan, sort of near the Village).  In New York I rented a very nice room for 75 cents a day.

Due giorni fa ho lasciato temporaneamente New York e son venuto a Philadelphia, per poter cosi dire d’aver visitato tutte le grandi citta degli Estati Uniti.

Philadelphia e una citta assai simpatica, anzi a quel poco che ne posso guidicare piu simpatica delle grandi citta.  Cosa strana, ma pur vera, le vie sono in gran parte ben selciate con asfalto, cosicche non si e assordati dal rumore dei carri e delle carrozze, cosa che e addirittura insoffribile in New York o Chicago.

Philadelphia ha grandi palazzi e tra questi una City Hall che sarebbe bellissima, se non avessero voluto aggiungervi un a orribile torre che stona maledettamente con lo stile Rinasciamento francese del resto.  Ho visto qui pure molti altri edifici monumentali, il cui aspetto esterno farebbe creder esser chiese, ma che invece una piu accurata ispezione mostra esser edifici di banche e compagnie di assicurazione.  L’area di Philadelphia e enorme, e la popolazione non e molto fitta.  In media non piu di 7 o 8 persona abitano una casa, il che denota lo stato di reale prosperita di questa citta dei quaccheri.

Two days later, I temporarily left New York and went to Philadelphia, to be able to say that I visited all the big cities in the United States.

Philadelphia is a very nice city, even from the little I can judge, I think it is nicer than the big cities.  It’s a strange thing, but still true, for the most part the streets are well paved with asphalt, so you aren’t deafened by the noise of wagons and carriages, which is absolutely insufferable in New York or Chicago.

Philadelphia has great palaces and among these is a City Hall, that would be absolutely beautiful, if they hadn’t wanted to add a horrible tower that clashes with the French Renaissance style of the rest of the building.  I’ve also seen many other monumental buildings, that from the outside you would expect to be churches, but on closer inspection turn out to be the buildings for banks and insurance companies.  Philadelphia’s area is enormous, and the population is not very dense.  On average no more than 7 or 8 people live in one house, which denotes the real prosperity of this city of Quakers.

Sono stato a visitare diversi grandi stabilimenti industriali e fra gli altri una fabbrica di locomotive capace di fabbricare piu di 700 macchine all’anno.

Domani andro a visitare l’universita che si trova nel Fairmont Park, un enorme parco avente un’area di quasi mille ettari che occupa la parte nord-est della citta.

Dopo me ne tornero a New York e sabato mattina lascero credo per sempre il nuovo mondo.  Sono contento di esserci stato, ma non mi rincresce di lasciarlo, e se un giorno mi toccasse di lasciare Ivrea credo che probabilmente passeri la Manica ma non l’Atlantico per trovare un posto ove vivere bene.

Nell’ultima mia ti scrissi che il vapore toccava Napoli prima di arrivar a Genova.  Fu un errore.  Esso tocca Gibilterra ma dopo prosegue direttamente per Genova.  Dunque niente dispaccio (I think this is an error in transcription...I think dispaccio should be dispiaccio).  Io aspetto di arrivare a Genova il 27 o il 28.

Addio tante belle cose allo zio che spero stara bene.  Salutami Ep e Tom.

Tuo aff.mo
Camillo

I visited many big industrial plants and among others one locomotive factory capable of fabricating more than 700 machines a year.

Tomorrow I’ll go visit the university found in Fremont park, a huge park with an area of almost a thousand acres in the north-east part of the city.

Then I’ll return to New York to leave the new world for good.  I’m glad to have been here, but I am not sorry to leave it, and if one day I am struck by the idea of leaving Ivrea I think I’d cross the channel but not the Atlantice to find a place to live well.

In my last letter, I wrote that the boat was touching Naples first before arriving in Genoa.  That was a mistake.  This boat lands in Gibralter but after continues directly to Genoa.  So no regrets.  I hope to arrive in Genoa on the 27th or 28th.

Good bye, many good wishes to uncle who I hope is doing well.  My regards to Ep and Tom.

Your very, very affectionate
Camillo


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