Cala Rossa means red cove. It stretches along the northwest shore of Sicily.
Sicily 2022
Some 125 years ago, my great-grandparents woke each morning in their tiny Sicilian fishing village to a view of Cala Rossa (red cove) — a magnificent stretch of northern shoreline defined by its layered red and cream colored cliffs.
The bluest water imaginable crashed repeatedly against those rocks.
I spent some time in Terrasini and neighboring Cinisi a few years ago to research my novel, Canary. Each morning I awoke to the same breathtaking scene.
It made me wonder why they left this paradise all those years ago for the place that came to be known as The Motor City. When Ignazio and Vita Biondo arrived in Detroit in 1913, they saw smokestacks, shipyards, foundries and warehouses.
Growing up, I heard repeatedly, “they came for work.” This was true of my maternal grandparents as well, also Sicilians. They came for work.
My ancestors were among the four million Sicilian and Southern Italian immigrants who came to America between 1880 and 1924. Charles Wills, in Destination America, described what they left behind as “grinding poverty.”
Once here, they persevered — overcoming discrimination, language barriers and limited education to build lives that afforded all of us — the generations that followed — great opportunities.
Physical labor was what they knew. They worked in the car factories, building trades and family-owned businesses. Education wasn’t fully embraced until my generation — the third — began attending college.
Today, Terrasini and Cinisi are seaside resort towns on the Tyrrhenian Sea. Grandma Vita never saw the hotels and restaurants that now dot the shoreline. But she knew the timeless beauty of Cala Rosa. And I’m grateful, I’ve been able to stand above the red and cream-colored cliffs where she may have stood herself so long ago.
