It’s been over thirty years since I first met Stella. I became acquainted through some old family photographs and was instantly drawn to the young woman I saw in them; a tall, stylish, Italian beauty with lively eyes and a palpable energy that seemed to radiate from her. She was one of my husband’s several cousins, a few years older than he, but she is the one that has resonated the most perhaps because of the mystery of whatever happened to her. I am haunted by her, fascinated by someone that I have never actually met. But she seems to have simply vanished from the pages of her family history and there is no one left to ask about her life.
I know for a fact that Stella and her family had immigrated to NYC from northern Italy and opened what was to become a very successful restaurant in Manhattan. Her Mother liked to party and her Father died young from lung failure. She had an equally beautiful older sister and a cigar smoking Grandfather that was quite a character in the neighbourhood. The first album that Stella bought was by a singer named Fabian around the time that Elvis was making his mark. From what other information my husband has been able to piece together over the years he discovered that no one really wanted to talk about her. For whatever reasons, she was a subject that was taboo.
Conjecture had her slated as a bit of an impulsive wild child as a young woman of her time, my husband still sports a scar on his chin from when she shoved him off her bicycle into a wall. It’s been surmised by some that Stella could have gotten married and then divorced, she could have had a personality disorder or even been institutionalized at some point. She could also have been chastised for having a strong independent spirit in a strict Catholic family. The sixties and seventies, a significant time of societal change and upheaval, were tough enough for women and freedoms were hard-fought in a male-dominated society. (Sound familiar?) Stella didn’t fit in; she had her own agenda and wanted more. And then she just vanished.
Where did you go Stella? Although she apparently died at a relatively young age, cause unknown, she will always be an unsolved mystery to me, the one that I will continue to wonder about from time to time. It has been suggested that I seek documentation in NYC such as a marriage or death certificate but it’s a lot more complicated than that. What about all the stuff in between, the moments in her days, who she was as a person. The sound of her voice. Perhaps we made eye contact as we passed each other on a crowded street in Manhattan many years ago. So many questions with answers that I’ll never know. It’s the stuff that great novels are made of.
And now on the way to winter and the end of another year, November often presents a time of remembrance and reflection for many. When I walk the seawall and park close by my home, I often read the memorial plaques attached to the benches along the way. Wherever I have lived or traveled in the world I always eventually wound up in a graveyard reading the names of those who came before or have left too soon. The famous, the infamous, and the unknown. And I wonder who these people were. It’s all so humbling really, a reminder of our time in the here and now and, after all the layers are peeled away, what is ultimately most important to us. How would we like to be remembered?
It’s been said that no one, whether creature or human, is totally gone if they are not forgotten. They live in our heads, they visit in unexpected places and reveal themselves in music. The smallest thing, a sight or sound, can spark an even long forgotten memory. They can teach us how to live. They can help us put things into perspective. Their influence becomes us. Over time the memories can bring a bittersweet kind of sadness but also a sense of joy in having known them for whatever length of time, from near or from afar. To all of you I’ll say that I will keep on remembering. And Stella, wherever I am I’ll be looking for you if only in my dreams.
Photos from the family archive of Adrian Salvoni. Essay #101 by Jude Gorgopa, Reinvention Consultant and the Founder of Clout Et Cetera and The Fundamentals of Clout. Connect: judegorgopa@gmail.com & LinkedIn.
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