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BLOG Comments – conveying a poignant story.

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True life and make-believe.
I love this colourful little book Dragons, Deserts and Dreams containing poems and short stories, written and illustrated by Anne Frandi-Coory.
She has cleverly woven her poems into evocative, self-contained vignettes and portraits; brief episodes that are obviously dear to her heart. The short, true life stories, in beautiful prose, convey a passion and a vividness that make you feel as though you were right there when the events were actually happening. Readers will meet Ms Frandi-Coory’s paternal Lebanese grandparents in the hills of Lebanon and later in the story, join them on their sea voyage to Melbourne then on to New Zealand in ‘Immigration And The Promise’. On the other hand, the life of Ms Frandi-Coory’s maternal Italian great grandmother is very different. ‘Raffaela’s Last Dream’ is more of a drawn out nightmare which begins in Rome when Raffaela is 13 years old. In this short story, Raffaela is on her death bed surrounded by family, and as her long life flashes before her; readers are there to accompany her every step of the way.
The author also enters into a world of make-believe, giving readers a glimpse of her affinity with children and animals in her poems about childish imagination, the antics of animals and the value of Nature here on earth.
This is a book to treasure.
-Zita Barna
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Blog Comments    My Life and Rhymes -A Life In Two Halves

Italian Connections

From Verna Crowley, Otaki, New Zealand.

 The Mystery Surrounding Ateo Frandi’s Colonial Auxiliary Forces Long Service Medal.

 

 

 

Ateo Giusto Leale Frandi – killed by a sniper at ‘the daisy patch’ Gallipoli 8th May, 1915

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Verna Crowley

18 May 2014

Hi Anne, I came across your story while I was researching Ateo Frandi, born 04 May 1873, died [8th] May 1915. I have in my possession a WWl medal with his name [inscribed] on it. It was issued in 1911 for his long service in the Colonial Auxiliary Forces. I would dearly love for it to be returned to his family, he has no direct issue but if you know of a family member I can pass it onto I would appreciate it…. Thanks, Verna.

Verna

20 May, 2014 .

Good morning Anne,
I have not heard from you via my email today so I thought I would try again through here.

I realise you might be thinking that maybe this is some sort of hoax, but I can assure you that I do have the medal and I am very much hoping to be able to return it to his family, where it rightfully belongs, (after 100 years).
I can tell you it came into my possession through my grandmother, how she happened to have it I do not know, but she kept it safe along with her first husband’s WWl medals. This year being significant for WWl veterans, I was going through all the paper work and medals and as this medal did not have a ribbon, I was going to have it re-ribboned, it was only then that I noticed Ateo’s name [inscribed] on the side and I thought I would try and locate his family to return it.
The inscription reads: No. 179 COL-SERG. A. FRANDI ZEALANDIA RIFLES (1911). 

Please let me know where you want me to send it
Thanks, Verna

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Head inscription reads: EDWARD VS Vll REX IMPERATOR

 

 

 

Reverse and rim inscriptions read: For Long Service In The Auxiliary Forces; No 179

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Anne Frandi-Coory

Hello Verna, lovely to hear from you. I would so love that medal and I would treasure it as would my family. My mother, Doreen Frandi,was very close to Italia, Ateo’s sister, and Italia and Ateo were devoted to each other. Otherwise, I truly don’t know anyone else to recommend. Thank you for making contact.

I am so glad you found me, Verna, and I did not for one moment disbelieve you;  I would so love the medal which I would treasure as would my family.

Because of all the awful things that happened to my mother and me, I don’t have any mementos from the Frandi family, so this medal will mean a lot to me and the wider Frandi family.

The only memento I do have is a set of broken Rosary beads in a tiny leather case cherished by my mother, Doreen. Her father, Alfredo, was Ateo Frandi’s youngest brother and while Ateo died before she was born, Doreen knew Ateo’s sister, Italia, very well. By all accounts, Italia had a soft spot for the troubled Doreen. Ateo and his only sister, Italia, were close in age, both born in Pisa and devoted to each other.  Italia’s two daughters are long deceased and Italia’s only grandchild didn’t have any children. I truly don’t know anyone else to recommend.

Thank you once again, and please let me reimburse you for the cost of postage.

Kind regards, Anne.

Italia and Ateo Frandi

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Verna

Good morning Anne,

Ok …Firstly to answer your question: Where do I fit into the Frandi family? Simple answer , I don’t.

This may take a bit of explaining  but I will try and keep it as short as possible.

I’m sorry…when I did not receive your first email I thought maybe you did not believe I had a medal belonging to Ateo. I had to put myself in your shoes and think, who is this person who says (quite out of the blue) hey…I have a medal, it is more than 100 years old and does anyone in your family want it? So I thought if I told you what the inscription said it would let you know I was for real.

You may now be thinking that  if I don’t fit into your family anywhere, how do I happen to have the medal?

As I said it was in my grandmother’s possessions along with her first husband’s WWl medals and papers. I don’t know how she came to have Ateo’s medal and I don’t know if she knew him. She may have, the time frame fits. Back then in WWl and also in WWll  a lot of things associated with the wars were not kept.  The men did not talk about, or want  any reminders of their time fighting overseas. Well that was the case in our family, so as children we never knew about what our mothers and grandmothers kept hidden. But my grandmother had treasured the reminders of her husband that she had been given (married in 1916); he never came home. He is buried in Cologne cemetery in Germany.  She only had one surviving child to that marriage, my mother. My grandmother later remarried and had more children.

When my grandmother died, what she had in her possession was handed down to my mother, who had a life similar to my grandmother’s.  She also lost her first husband, in WWll;  he also never came home and is buried in Belgium.  My mother later remarried, and had three children. That’s where I come in.  My mother obviously kept her husband’s medals together with her father’s medals. She died in 1971 and my father remarried. We three children from his first marriage were not given anything of our mother’s after she died.

When my father died in 2009, my sister and I (my brother had since passed away) I had to contest his Will to receive some things  that belonged to our mother…long story.

Some of the few things we received were the war medals; not my father’s war medals, but my mother’s first husband’s medals and those of her father’s. The medals have been kept in the original box that my mother kept them in.

Verna continues …

in her letter which accompanied Ateo’s medal which she later posted to me:

I was looking through your blog and read your post, [link]: Letters To Anne Frandi-Coory  which included the two letters from your mother’s youngest sister, Anne Albert.  I was a bit blown away and I truly believe that Ateo’s medal was meant for you all along.   I am convinced a higher power, maybe my mother, encouraged me to find you. If all three circumstances hadn’t come together at around the same time, the medal would probably have been lost forever and never returned to its rightful home:

  • My sister and I received, in 2009, the few things that belonged to our mother:
  • Your memoir and Frandi family history  [link] Whatever Happened To Ishtar? was published in 2010.
  • This significant ANZAC year of 2014 prompted us to scrutinize carefully the papers and medals we received as a result of contesting our late father’s Will, discovering that one of the medals had a different name on it.

I couldn’t get that medal out of my mind and so I decided to research the name and other details inscribed on the medal. I found a few clues and of course your web site and Blog. If we had rightfully received our mother’s treasures years ago, and tried to find Ateo’s descendants at that time, we would not have been able to trace any and that would have been the end of it.

I now know that your mother, Doreen Frandi, lived at 56 Hewer Crescent, Naenae, Lower Hutt,  in Wellington …

56 Hewer Crescent, Naenae, Wellington, NZ

 

We lived at 28 Hewer Crescent. It seems from your aunty Anne’s letter that Doreen and her son Kevin lived there for some years prior to 1980. She also mentions that Doreen worked at a factory close by. I would think that would be the Philips factory; it was a large employer in Naenae for many years and most of Naenae worked there at some stage. They employed hundreds of people at any given time.  Doreen’s  next door neighbours at number 54 were the Hardies; a father and three children: Trevor, Roberta and Marianne.  Roberta worked at the factory for many years, possibly alongside Doreen.  

 Many connections, but the mystery remains: how did Verna’s mother come to have Ateo Frandi’s war service medal in her possession? Did Doreen give it to Verna’s mother for safe-keeping or perhaps Verna’s grandfather and Ateo were war mates and Italia gave the medal to him? Perhaps someone reading this post could enlighten us?

Verna.

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READ here about the naming of Frandi Street, Wellington, NZ, named in memory of Ateo Frandi and  the Frandi family who lived nearby for many years:

[Link here]   FRANDI STREET 

RIP Ateo Frandi

*Note: Anne Frandi-Coory has   since passed the medal onto Ateo Frandi’s great nephew who is currently serving in the New Zealand Armed Forces.

Aristodemo and Annunziata Frandi are the parents of Ateo Frandi and Anne Frandi-Coory’s maternal grandfather, Alfredo, who was Ateo’s youngest brother.

Aristodemo Frandi (Aristodemo from the Greek ‘Aristodemos’)

Annunziata Fabbrucci Frandi

 

Anne Frandi-Coory’s maternal Italian great grandmother Raffaela Marisi Mansi Grego

 

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Wow! That ‘Raffaela’s Last Dream’ in Dragons, Deserts and Dreams,   is just so, so beautiful, and I love it. But then again I love everything you do, my darling Anne. You have put me by her bedside. You have me holding and squeezing her hand as I read and hear her, drifting through the pages of her life, with all the love and emotion of a woman who knows she will soon be flying through heaven, alongside the author of all things in the universe.
For beautiful Raffaela has already experienced hell on earth. And I, the reader was there when it was all happening, so cleverly condensed in, ‘the present tense’. You’re such a great writer Anne, you always have the ability to stir up my emotions.
After I finished reading, in the dark now, I closed my eyes and wept and sobbed out loud, as I often do, when I awake from such dreams. Dreams I have of my grandmother, the one person who never stopped loving me.
Dreams, nowadays in my secret place I call ‘La La land’. A place I find myself a lot lately as my body too, is almost worn out. A place where I’m not really asleep, but then again I’m not altogether awake. All I have to do is remain quiet, usually in the afternoon, close my eyes as I rest alone on my sofa, and I’m there, in my beautiful ‘La La Land’, where anything can happen.
Thank you so very much for introducing me to your wonderful, courageous and most lovely, ‘Raffaela’ Anne, I am so grateful to find her at last. She, like you will remain forever with me, as I know I will never forget you both.

-Arabella Marx, @thatmarxtart Australia 2017

‘Raffaela’s Last Dream’ by Anne Frandi-Coory

From Dragons, Deserts and Dreams

emmies-wedding-2

Raffaela and Filippo  Greco [anglicised to Grego]

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More comments from Rita Roberts, Crete:

Rita Roberts: This is so beautiful Anne, Thank you for sharing.

Anne Frandi-Coory: Yes Rita, it’s a comment that really touches the heart strings…Arabella has since died as she was quite elderly when she wrote the comment. We followed each other on Twitter initially because we both liked reading similar books. And then she bought both my books: ‘Whatever Happened To Ishtar?’ and ‘Dragons, Deserts and Dreams’. RIP lovely Arabella Marx.

Rita: So nice she was in touch with you before she passed though, Anne.

Anne: Yes Rita, and I treasure the fact that Arabella connected with me and my writing…I do feel so humbled. She had a very sharp mind, with an erudition I envied. xx

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The Blog Comments below were posted  by David Edward Anthony, USA  on page:

Lebanese Family Tree and Photos.  

More here: My Life and Rhymes – A Life In Two Halves

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David Anthony:

I LOVE your website. I’m of two worlds, too, in this case 1/2 Lebanese and 1/2 Irish. The Lebanese side arrived in the USA from Lebanon in 1892.

Amelia Coory, Joseph’s sister who died from TB at 17 yrs old.

The photo of Amelia Coory looks so very much like one of my cousins (who is 1/2 Lebanese and 1/2 Italian). Similarly to Amelia, my sitoo’s [grandmother] brother Peter died of “exposure” in the 1890s. He was perhaps 10 years old. In the USA at least, there was a terrible depression (the “Panic of 1892”) that led to widespread unemployment. In my great-grandparents’ case, they couldn’t get work have to live outside in a lean-to in the winter- it probably led to my grandmother’s brother’s death.

I see you have a Khalil Gibran – inspired drawing at the top of your page; interestingly enough, there are Gibrans in my family’s old parish.

Sketch by Khalil Gibran

Anne Frandi-Coory:

Hi David, good to hear your story. Khalil Gibran was born in my grandparents’ village in Bcharre and moved to USA when the Catholic Maronite minority were suffering persecution by muslims. We are related to his family through marriage [Khouri]. If your family came from Bcharre there is a good chance there will be a family connection because my grandfather’s sisters emigrated to the US. Lebanese/Irish combination would make for a volatile mix as does Lebanese/Italian, I would say?

David:

Hi! Thank you so much for the reply.

Yes! Irish-Lebanese is a volatile mix! My Irish mother could be very much the unstoppable force where my Lebanese dad was the immovable object. When she got excited, it was like a tornado was set loose in our living room- and that Tornado came up against the Mt. Everest that was my dad!

My family isn’t from Bcharre. It’s from a very similar town not that far away to the west- a town called Ehden.

I hesitated- strongly- on telling you about Ehden as Bcharre and Ehden are two very similar towns – Maronite Catholic and set in the mountains- photos of both towns make them even look similar- but they historically are two rival towns as well. I suspect you’ve heard in your life how Italian towns are rivals- very similar thing.

Both Ehden and Bcharre are *very* ancient towns. Both rightfully can boast an ancient heritage- with ancient buildings and such. Bcharre, if I remember right, boasts the oldest cedars in existence (and among many things, of course being the birthplace of Khalil Gibran)..while Ehden, for example, hosts Horsh Ehden, a very ancient nature preserve, and also the oldest Maronite church in the world.

Now, the reaction of many old Bcharre people on hearing from someone from Ehden is usually something like, “Ehden! Those people are NO GOOD.” Which goes back to the book, The Arab Mind* and the author’s conclusion that there’s really not much middle ground between liking and dislike in the Middle East.

I hope (!) that my telling you I’m from Ehden (really Zghorta, which is its mirror town – Zghorta in the winter and Ehden in the summer) doesn’t give you a bad vibe!

Anne:

I was a bit like your mum when I was younger-very fiery, not sure many people understood me. But I didn’t inherit the ethnocentricity that my grandparents brought with them from Lebanon because I spent my formative years in an orphanage. My mother became mentally ill (not surprisingly) and dad’s family didn’t want me because my mother was Italian. However, I love the Lebanese people and the Italian people and consider myself blessed, and I am proud, because of the wonderful positive traits I and my children have inherited. Writing Whatever Happened To Ishtar? helped me to see that. So, David, the fact you are Lebanese is fantastic!

*READ my review here:

‘The Arab Mind’ by Raphael Patai – A Book Review by Anne frandi-Coory

 

David:

I’ve read this book as well – about two years ago. It helped me, too, connect to my Middle Eastern roots. As I’m half of Irish descent, and the Irish side of the family being HUGE, I tended to spend far more time with the Irish side than the Lebanese side. Plus my father, a very kind man, tended to be a very reticent man. As the Lebanese side of the family was very small, I tended to not get hardly any exposure to the Lebanese side; even though, quite frankly, I looked *very* Lebanese. I kind of stuck out when visiting my Irish cousins! 🙂

I remember reading in the above book an account that the author witnessed of Middle Eastern people leaving a movie theater. People leaving the movie often showed no middle ground. They either LOVED the movie, or they HATED it. That lack of a “middle ground” is very close to my own personal experiences- and reading the above, it seems that you had similar experiences? Either they accept you wholeheartedly..or not at all. Growing up, it confused me. I saw people being what I called “favorited” or not favorited at all. It took me many, many years (and some hurt) to figure out what was going on.

That said, I didn’t know that the tidbits of language I had picked up from my jidoo [grandfather] weren’t really Arabic until I was an older teen. What happened was that a distant cousin north Lebanon visited our family. When he spoke to my jidoo, they couldn’t understand a word they were saying to one another. My jidoo was raised to speak what he was believed as Arabic from a young age- in fact, it was his first language. Why couldn’t my cousin from Beirut understand him?

In the end, we figured it out. My cousin spoke modern Arabic. My jidoo spoke a form of Aramaic that was spoken more than a century ago, which was passed onto him in the USA by his family. Not only was my jidoo speaking another, older language, he was speaking a form of it that was about a century old!

I really like your site. I don’t have much time to check it out from top to bottom; I hope it’s okay if I come back and read through it some time! Thank you for posting so much interesting stuff!

Anne:

Here in my review of another book you may be interested in:

The Maronites in History by Matti Moosa 

The comments below were posted here on my Blog  by Miriam Burke, NZ on page:  Lebanese Family Tree and Photos.  

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Subjects: My father, Joseph Jacob Habib Eleishah Coory, his brother Michael Patrick Coory, Patrick’s wife, Harriet and their daughter, Yvonne.

Joseph and Michael Coory 1

Brothers Joseph and Michael Coory

The book: Whatever happened To Ishtar? – A Passionate Quest to Find Answers For Generations of Defeated Mothers

Miriam Burke is Michael Patrick Coory’s granddaughter and daughter of Yvonne Coory.

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Dear Anne

I just wanted to post you something beautiful and I know you love it:  (Blue Danube Ballet) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSulONzgewQ

Dear Miriam

How did you know about the glass case? You’ve already read my book! The ballet brought tears to my eyes. Thank you so much, Miriam xxxxx

Dear Anne

I wanted to send you something you could keep and play over and over again without it getting taken off you. Yes Anne, I rushed out and got your book and I am part way through. It has touched me so very much, I only wish you had confided in my nanna Harriet, I’m so sad to know how very bad you and your brothers were treated. I relate to the screaming and yelling; I always remember I would get scared when all of a sudden one would start arguing and the rest would jump in like a pack of hyenas attracting prey.

Did you know your dad was my most favourite great uncle? I remember Mum took me to Cherry Farm to visit him and I was so disgusted the family had put him in such an awful place. I told Mum I never want to go back. Uncle Joe was so pale and thin looking, I didn’t want to believe it was him. 😦 I remembered Tim!!!! [Joseph’s beloved dog] Oh how I loved him but when I think of Tim he was very old.

I came across your blog by accident the other day. My sister-in-law Charmaine Burke (nee Coory) Victor Coory’s adopted daughter’s brother John had passed and I was looking on the ‘net for details of his funeral. I was drawn here after names came up that I was familiar with. I’m so very pleased I found you. 🙂 xxx

Dear Miriam

OMG! you knew my dad. He and uncle Mick [Michael Coory] were very close and had similar lives until my dad [Joseph Coory] married my mother [Doreen Frandi], and The Family never forgave him. . I know that uncle Mick was staying with the Coory family at Carroll Street when your Nana Harriet was so ill and after she died. However, he was so horrified by the way the family treated uncle Henry’s children after he died, Mick moved out and stayed with your mum. I am so glad you found me. Xxxxx

Dear Anne

Who could forget Uncle Joe, I was a young girl, Anne when Uncle Joe died but he was someone in the house I felt I connected to and felt comfortable being around….he had sparkling eyes, a friendly smile and a gentle soul. See my brothers and I are out casts also on the Todd side for the stupid reason our Mother and Father got divorced. When we were small children, why did we get the feeling we had done something wrong? Even now I’ve been in touch with my Dad’s side of the family and don’t feel I fit in anywhere. They look at me as though I’m an alien…I know they see Mum when they look at me, Mum did tell me they treated her so bad even when she was married to Bryan. I’ve been blessed with her looks and she lives on in me…oh and the other wonderful thing I’ve been blessed with is my Nanna Harriet’s nature…LOL She was a bit of a rebel, could stand up for herself and a wonderful sense of humour. I remember she did tell lies though, only to keep the peace but she would laugh and giggle like a small child at every time she told one.

I remember.one day Great Aunt Georgina was yelling out to us and Nanna said to me “oh no here’s the fog-horn coming”…I started to giggle and Nanna said just say nothing and go along with me. We were staying up in Wanaka at the holiday home and Nanna and I were in the small scamper on the section. Georgina came over and asked if we had been to church? Nanna said yes of course we had, “we were sitting near the back [of the church]”. Of course we didn’t go to church that day. I wonder if they knew of Nanna’s tattoo?. A small butterfly she had on her thigh…hence my love of anything to do with butterflies. I have one hanging on my wall and when I look up at it I think of Nanna. She was too modern to be a nanna in those days…I thought she was just the coolest Nanna in the world! They both did so much for Mum and us children especially when Dad left. We were so lucky to have wonderful grandparents.

Aunt Alma who really wasn’t our Aunt was Mum’s favourite to talk to…Aunt Alma we had more to do with and visit than the house in Carroll Street in later years when Nanna was in a retirement home. Mum and I would always make sure we called into visit Alma when visiting Granddad while he was living at Carroll St. You know Anne, think of yourself as a caterpillar slowly crawling along in your youth, everything seems a struggle, you don’t feel good about  yourself, you feel like you are going  nowhere, then one day you just get so tired of your struggle you just want to curl up into a ball and sleep forever away from the world; then the moment you awake you feel different, you have grown into a colourful butterfly that can now fly above all those struggles you once had…you’re beautiful…just keep spreading those wings! xx Miriam 

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Read more here about Joseph in an excerpt from  Whatever Happened To Ishtar? >>>>>>>>>>>>>> My Father Joseph Jacob Habib Eleishah Coory 

 

10334276_293513207505781_2346531765896938995_n

L to R: Joseph, Michael, Frederick and Philip Coory with their mother Eva Arida Coory.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Motherhood - The Ideal. Massimo Stanzione,  Naples 1640s

Hello Elizabeth,

I do empathise with you although I wasn’t adopted myself, but two of my half siblings were. I wrote about them in my book Whatever Happened To Ishtar?. See more on my blog about the negatives of mother/child separation, adoption under category Adoption & Separation. I was abandoned by my mother and placed in an orphanage, but I at least knew who my biological parents were. In all the years I have met and spoken with adoptees, I only ever met one man who did not wish to trace his biological parents. What came of my talking to adoptees was that it didn’t matter how good or bad their parents were; what mattered to them was knowing who and what their bio parents were, and why they were given up for adoption. It seems to me that adoption itself isn’t always bad, it is how it is carried out.

In the past, women like my mother, were forced by Catholic nuns to give up their new born babies, and most of these mothers never recovered from their loss. See Philomena’s and Sheldon Lea’s stories on my blog. The nuns never allowed these mothers to contact their lost children; refused to pass on information about the adoptions or the mothers’ names. The suffering in these cases, for mothers, and children,  was  life-destroying.

I understand what you are saying when you talk about your dad’s spirit being with you. The father you didn’t get to meet. I feel the same about my mother. The emotional pain she transmitted to me, persisted until I finished writing the book and she finally was at peace. Take care. Anne.

Visit Adoption Critic for ‘Dear Incubator‘ letter and comments…….