A RECOLLECTION THROUGH PHOTOS......        (Page 2)...

IT'S A LONG STORY, I' M TELLING YOU....So long, in fact, that I don't know where to start. Really... Once, at a party in New York honoring Coimbra University's Prof. Dr. Américo da Costa Ramalho, who was doing research at New York University, someone present told me that I must have some French in me.  "Many French, particularly Bretons, settled in São Miguel," I was told. On the other hand, my mother told me that one of my great grandmothers, Maria da Piedade, was blonde and blue eyed. She was the daughter of a Portuguese prison captain when Portugal still ruled Angola and the Portuguese government, in order to keep other European powers at bay, would populate that colony with criminals. One of them, a woman from the Azores, was among one of those, who, upon completing her sentence and finding an available ship, left Africa after having captured the captain's daughter. She then raised her as her own in the Freguesia do Livramento, on São Miguel Island. By the time that the captain found the child, she was already a woman married to my great grandfather, who coincidentally, was also named Manuel Ponte (Manuel da Ponte). He was not related to my Ponte paternal side. From Manuel da Ponte and Maria da Piedade came several children and, from those, came some blondes that I know of, although my relations with them were never close. Only my mother maintained some sort of relationship with a cousin, Natália. Coincidentally again, when my wife, Katherine, felt that she would have no further use for her wedding dress, my mother took it to the Azores and gave it as a present to one of Natália's daughters. Where the dress will eventually land, only God knows. In any case, anyone interested in seeing what the dress looks like may do so when he, or she, comes across Kathy's wedding portrait somewhere in these pages. Oh, yes. I am neither blonde, nor blue eyed. But, then, anyone looking at the photos that follow featuring the Mello/Melo line, the Pontes, and the Costa Afonsos will have no trouble knowing why. Granted that genetics sometimes have a funny way of surprising us, but, as far as I know, no one was surprised when I was born.

I met at birth            your somber ways. Undaunted I faced you and felt your power. Winds of seasons change - But you - Relentlessly facing life unaltered. We have battled, fighting still... Until spirit that once lived Pleadingly accepts,   Destiny.

Nashville, Tennessee, is almost as far away from Água Retorta, São Miguel, as any point in the world can get. Nevertheless,  the young woman accepting congratulations from the President of Vanderbilt University, in that city can easily trace her Mello roots to the small "freguesia". But, then, she can trace her roots to many other humble places on the Green Island. . On this page, I shall attempt to show how she got to Nashville by going into as many phases of AN AZOREAN PAST as time and boredom will permit..

IS IT POSSIBLE, REALLY, that a young woman whose father went often barefoot in the Azores should one day walk alongside the Reception Committee that organized the visit of former U. S. President,  George Bush, to be the keynote speaker in the 1999 Alumni Reception at that fine university? That's my daughter, Laura, on the photo. The same Laura photographed on the Introductory Title Page, AN AZOREAN IN MID AMERICA... But, then, Laura is an American. She had that one advantage most of us never had in the Azores, and for which, in spite of the love that we have for the islands where we first saw the light, we never paused to forget... What follows on these pages is part of the story. PLEASE BEAR WITH ME AS I PRESENT IT LITTLE BY LITTLE........

(1929 - Someday I shall write about José, the young man on the first row standing next to my uncle Virgínio. I won' tell much, for I don' know much about him. Suffice it to say, though, that what I know tells a lot about the Azores of my day. Let me, however, concentrate on my DNA, the rest of the group, who, except for the two smallest children, all are  now dead. The first to die was the bigger of the two girls, my aunt Sofia. According to my mother, who was an older sister and who, with another older sister, Maria da Luz,  helped to raise her after my grandmother's death at 36, Sofia was brilliant, eager to learn whatever was presented to her. As I remember, Aunt Sofia was also  rebellious as a young woman, always ready to go one step beyond what was acceptable in a rather restrictive rural society. Unfortunately she died when she was about 20, leaving a child, João Carlos de Melo, presently residing in San Ramón, California. (See photo below). The two children alive are a sister and  brother -  Maria José de Souza, living in Montréal, Canada, the other, António Francisco da Mota, in Danbury, Connecticut. Both are now grandparents. They are two of the three children of my aunt, Maria da Luz. The third, Isabel Soares, also lives in Connecticut.

According to my mother, who left me the above photo, my grandfather was drunk when he had this picture taken. My grandfather, perhaps out of guilt, was often drunk after my grandmother died. She was 36 at the time and died while trying to give birth to her 11th child, who died along with her. My grandfather, so my mother told me, was never the same afterwards. When he finally remarried, he made certain that Rosa de Jesus, a widow from Pico da Pedra, São Miguel, was several years older than he and beyond child-bearing age. Rosa ("Tia Rosinha") was, for her part, a woman trying to survive life. She had already buried two husbands. She put up with my grandfather's waste to the day she died. In the meantime, while seeing his money and properties disappear, she saw to it that her poor relatives would be duly helped. José, a nephew she had brought along when she remarried, was one of them. That was a lot more than my grandfather's own children got from him. In fact, for a few years that I well remember, they  kept the creditors away from him - thanks to their having put up their inheritance from my grandmother's share of the properties.

João Carlos inherited a great deal of his mother's dynamism, so much so that I once predicted to my mother that he'd be the first Costa Afonso grandchild to get rich in America. Well, there is still time. In this photo, for example, showing us enjoying  cup of coffee in California, my cousin never stopped trying to get my wife and me to consider California for its "quality of life". We would need at least two and a half times our present income to have in California what we have in Missouri, a fact that João Carlos' dynamism readily ignored. Since his wife, Donalda, is the Secretary-Treasurer of a Portuguese Insurance Company in that part of the world, João Carlos would no doubt know where we could get the loan to start our lives anew.

PLEASE EXCUSE ME, THOUGH,  IF I STOP  THE COSTA AFONSO SIDE OF THE STORY AT THIS POINT. I'LL BE BACK TO IT LATER.. AS YOU RECALL,  HOWEVER, I STARTED WITH THE MELLO SIDE WITHOUT TELLING YOU ANYTHING ABOUT IT OTHER THAN TO CALL ATTENTION TO ITS ÁGUA RETORTA ROOTS.  WELL, LET'S RETURN TO THE MELLOS, AND, EVENTUALLY, TO THE PONTE BRANCH - IF I LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO GET THERE...

Above (Right) - Maria da Boa Nova da Ponte de Mello - (DOUBLE AUNT, I guess.). "Tia" Boa Nova came to America to marry my paternal grandmother's younger brother, João, thereby becoming my grandmother's sister-in-law twice - once on my grandfather's side and once on brother João's side. To my father, therefore, "Tia" Boa Nova was a paternal  aunt by direct relationship and also by marriage to his maternal uncle. It was imperative, however, that up to the day she married she was cared for and duly protected from any natural advances by Uncle João. Until that day, she remained under the watchful eye of my paternal grandfather,  José da Ponte, (above) who made the trip with her from the Azores to America and remained in this country until his young sister had said "I do".

When Augusto Mello (fifth man standing from the left)  married at Fall River, Massachusetts, in 1919 he had one brother as best man, and six others as ushers. He also had a nephew, my uncle Manuel Ponte, (Standing on left side of photo) as an additional usher. Augusto's oldest brother, Manuel, as well as his only sister, my paternal grandmother,  remained in the Azores. ------------------------------------------ Later, in 1926, the brothers (minus Jacinto, who was now living in the Azores) had a family reunion at Cambridge, Massachusetts, where their mother, Maria Tomásia, as well as Manuel who had accompanied her on her trip to America, participated. From left to right they are: Sitting: Manuel, Maria Tomásia, Francisco. Standing: Guilherme, Augusto, José, João, António, Luís).

According to my paternal grandmother, Maria José de Melo Ponte, who along with her brother, Jacinto, had stayed back in the Azores with their own families, the photo on the right was shot in 1926 during a family reunion, when her mother, Maria Tomásia Mello, visited her children, their wives, children and other relatives in America. By that time my great- grandfather, João de Mello,  had already died, and she was accompanied on her trip by her oldest son, Manuel (bald-headed man sitting). When one pauses to consider that Mara Tomásia was born to a single mother and eventually led into such a large family, well... I leave the reader to his, or her, own conclusions.

IT SHOULD BE NOTED THAT IN 1943, GUILHERME SPONSORED MY FATHER'S COMING TO AMERICA., THEREBY CHANGING MY LIFE COMPLETELY. IN 1945, AFTER MY FATHER HAD DECIDED TO STAY, HE EQUALLY SONSORED ME. I CAME TO MASSACHUSETTS IN 1946, WHERE I LIVED UNTIL 1956. IN 1961, MY EMPLOYER BROUGHT ME TO ST. LOUIS, AND MY FAMILY AND I HAVE BEEN MIDWESTERNERS EVERSINCE..

MY PARENTS - July, 1981

João da Ponte (Rezendes) was born on September 12, 1906, at São Roque, São Miguel, Azores (fifteen days after his parents arrived in their homeland from America, where João had been conceived). For that reason, my father, in spite of having been drafted in 1927 into the Portuguese Army, always felt that the Portuguese had drafted an American into their 17th Infantry. In 1942, after the United States had entered World War II, João felt  he had to do something for "his country". Through the help of an uncle, William Mello (above), he secured sponsorship to come here, hoping hed stay long enough to see the war end. It turned out, however, that after he had arrived in 1945 (Through Philadelphia), he was so impressed with what he saw that, as soon as he could, he convinced his uncle to vouch for me and my mother. We came in 1946. It did not take long for my father to become an American citizen and, in a way, "come home". My mother, Isabel de Jesus da Costa Afonso, was also born in São Roque, São Miguel. Her birthday was February 10, 1908. Although she could read somewhat, her writing skills were almost nil. Her father, a very prosperous farmer at the time of her birth,  did not believe in education beyond one's ability to write his, or her, name.  The result was that her language skills were relatively limited (She spoke primarily the "linguajar" of São Miguel). In addition, given that she spent most of her life in America where she usually spoke her native language, her difficulties with English were immense. Besides, she had me at home and I could always translate, or secure for her, what she needed in English. It wasn' until I left home that she realized how desperate she could be. Furthermore, as indicated in other sections, I married a monolingual American. Shortly, thereafter, she became a grandmother and suddenly her American "patriotism" took hold of her. She felt out of place with all those Americans around. Unfortunately her poor English held her back. It was then that I decided to do something illegal. I spoke to a friend with political connections promising him that, whenever he'd run for office (Which was ever two years) my parents would faithfully vote for him. My mother's vote, therefore, would be his most assuredly. A few months thereafter, my mother was called to swear her allegiance to this country. Isabel J. Ponte died as  an American on December 17, 1996, at Bridgeton, Missouri. Her ashes were buried with my father's remains at the Cambridge Cemetery, Cambridge, Massachusetts.                                       **************************************************** By coincidence, their grave is within walking distance of  the grave of Daniel J. Buckley, at the Mt. Auburn Cemetery, on the other side of the road. Buckley died at around the time my parents were born and left his fortune to Harvard University. Thanks to his generosity, I was the first Azorean ever awarded  a Buckley Scholarship at that university.

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