Croatia

My family (The story of Frank and Vinka) – Many of you may know this story, but to even those who do, the photos will help tell it in ways that you’re likely unfamiliar. The details can be robust so I will try to summarize as best as possible. I am 50% Croatian on my mother’s side. Croatia is a long and skinny country on the Adriatic Sea across from Italy. Croatia has a long and tumultuous history that includes being a part of the former Yugoslavia where it gained independence yet again following the war that ended in the early 90’s, and as far back as the 1200’s being under Venetian rule (See two months ago, the history of Venice).

My grandmother and grandfather (Mom’s parents) are both from a small island in the Adriatic called Hvar. Although they lived there for the first twenty some odd years of their lives, they never met each other due to the mountain range that separated their two villages (Not a high mountain at all, more like a large hill!). This was at a time where cars had yet to be mass produced and the only means of making it from one side of the island to the next was via donkey.

In approximately 1930 my grandfather moved to Delano California to work in the vineyards as he had family that had recently immigrated to America. Following a brief stint of a year or two in Central California, he moved to a small fishing village that he had been told about called San Pedro. The people of Hvar are sea fairing natives and my grandfather yearned to return to his roots. It was in San Pedro that Frank’s fishing career began. Fishing was a long and difficult job for Frank who would find himself at Sea for weeks at a time. On one of his journey’s at sea he met a man by the name of Pete Muskatelo who invited Frank over for dinner when they returned to land. Pete immediately took a liking to Frank and informed him that he had a niece (Vinka) back in Croatia on the island of Hvar. Upon seeing the photo of Pete’s niece, Frank made the following offer: “If you bring this woman to America I will marry her!”

Back on Hvar, Vinka was living in a tiny village named Dol. Not more than 200 people lived in her village and her family resided in extremely simple conditions, living off the land where they grew potatoes, lettuce, grapes and raised chickens. No one from her immediate family had ever been to America, but when she received the photo of Frank, she was immediately attracted to the idea! (Frank was one extremely handsome dude!) By boat, her journey would take one month to arrive in San Pedro and she would make the trip alone.

Her departure left her family in grief (For the rest of her life Vinka’s mother NEVER wore another color other than black as a symbol of her grieving). There is an elderly man that lives in the village still to this day (Piero) who remembers the day she left and when Vinka’s mother cried from the window sill yelling “I will never see you again”.
When Vinka arrived in San Pedro, she and Frank were married within a month. The two of them lived happily together for just shy of fifty years, having two children: John and Lucille (My mom).

Hvar “2004” –

My first trip to Hvar was with my family in 2004. We arrived on the tiny island following a week spent in Italy under some of the nicer accommodations that we have had the pleasure of experiencing. My mom, had never been to the island of her heritage and the sheer thought of me making it there first was too much to resist, so she met us there (It’s a good thing she did because no one speaks English and I don’t speak a lick of Croatian, but my mom is fluent!)

Vinka’s brother (Uncle Pete) was alive at the time (He passed away six months after my Mom, Anna and I met him) as was his wife Teta Maria (She is still alive). They lived with their son Niksha and his wife Antitsa along with their three children who were in their teens at the time. The house they live in to this day is from the late 1800’s and in the same tiny town of Dol (Population still 200 ish!). My mom slept in the room Vinka was born in! The house consisted of three very small bedrooms, a tiny kitchen (With a refrigerator that my grandma and grandpa bought for them in the 1960’s) and one bathroom (Which they had to go outside to use). They were the poorest people I had ever met, living off their small potato crop and an income that equates to 5,000 US dollars annually.

The three days that I spent with my family in 2004 are none like any I have ever experienced in my life and forever changed my view on “Family”. The unconditional love that they had to offer made them some of the wealthiest people I have ever known. Seeing the places where my grandparents were born in the “Old Country” gave me such an appreciation for the sacrifices that they made for me and future generations. If you have not yet returned to the place of your family roots to better understand who you are, let me suggest that you make this your next plan for vacation (Not to mention how important it is for your children to understand who they are). Words can not describe how it will permeate your being and infuse a sense of pride in family and origin. In late March we will be going to the island of Malta in the Mediterranean for Anna’s 40th birthday. Her mother Gina was born in Malta. Anna and I are very excited to teach our children about this piece of their heritage.

Croatia “October 23rd to 25th” - It would be blasphemous to be so close to the home of my heritage for one year and not pay my family a visit. Heck only the Adriatic Sea separates Italy from Croatia and they actually share a common boarder in the far North. Since our visit three years ago, Anna and I have taken an interest in the well being and education of my relatives and seeing them was near the top of my list of “Must Do’s” while in Italy. Of course my mom would need to make the journey as well if I wanted to have any type of communication with them! This of course worked perfectly as I have not seen my mom and dad in nearly three months (The longest stint of my life by a long shot) and have really been missing them.

One would think that a trip of such short distance would only take a couple of hours, but think again. I’m NOT in America! I woke on the morning of the 23rd at 4:00 am for my flight to Munich Germany (1.5 hours), following a two hour lay over, it was off to Split Croatia (1 hour). I spent the day in Split having lunch and seeing the historical palace of the exiled Pope Doleclitian from around 500 AD. My mom and dad arrived in the later afternoon and we spent the rest of the day in Split until we were able to catch the two hour boat ride to Hvar. Talk about planes, trains, boats and automobiles!

The time with my family was extremely precious to me. In total I was only on the island for about 36 hours, but we spent the time wisely by sharing most every minute together, talking (With my mom doing an amazing job as interpreter on very little sleep) and looking through photos. Anna and the kids were not able to come as Trey and Livy were in school, hence the reason for my short tenure. My family is doing so much better now than when I first met them three years ago which warmed my heart. My great Aunt (Teta Maria) is still well and as always it is such a wonderful experience to hold her hand and sit with her. We may not be able to speak to each other, but there is a mutual love that comes with the common blood of family.

The highlight for me was that my dad was able to visit Croatia for the first time. Although he is not Croatian, he had a wonderfully close relationship with Frank and Vinka and for him to see where they were born brought back many emotions for him. Those of you that know my father know that his silliness transcends language! One would not accuse my dad of being an introvert and it was wonderful to see him interacting with people whom he had never met and whom spoke a language so foreign to him. Within just one hour, he was singing songs and had everyone in hysterics!

I departed for my long journey back to Italia on the 25th. Following the two hour boat ride back to the mainland, I found myself sitting at an outdoor café watching the Croatian people walk by. My mind wandered to many places:

“They look so different than me, could I really be half Croat?”
“Their language is so dramatically foreign to me, even though my grandparents spoke it”
“How the hell can I love food so much and be half Croatian with what they eat (See notes from the cheap seats for further elaboration)!”


As I pondered these thoughts and the destiny that brought me to this earth, I realized just how true the cliché “Everything Happens for Reason” is. “Had grandma not had the courage to leave all she new, had she not weathered the surely difficult circumstances of being on a ship all alone for four weeks, had she not desired to better her legacy and take the chance of meeting a man whom she only new by a photo, would I be one of these folks on Hvar? Would my life have been a difficult struggle? Would I be eating bad food?” Of course the answer is none of the above, but rather that I would not be here at all!

Thank you Grandma for your courage…