Family Portraits

My laptop died this week and took my motivation along with it. Since I'm writing this on my husband's old PC which is not in a room that has heat, I'll do a short picture post.

Here are the Aguiars throughout the years: Gilberto, Flora, Lourenço and my mother Ana.

Portugal, around 1948

Portugal, in the late 1950s

Hayward, CA in the early 1960s

Hayward, CA, Christmas 1970

Looking at these pictures I realize I haven't written about my grandfather at all. If I know little about Vovó Flora, I know even less about Avô Gilberto. He died the year I was born so I know him only through stories and photographs. I know he was very gregarious and well-liked in the community. 

Also for those who are not Portuguese, the words for grandma and grandpa are nearly identical except for the accent. Vovó is grandma, pronounced vo-vaw (like saw), with Avó being the more formal grandmother. Vovô is grandpa and Avô is grandfather, with the last sound pronounced vow (like bow) though not really. There isn't a really great English equivalent sound. Not having grown up saying Vovô I still trip over this. 

Hopefully net week I will have a laptop again which I can use to type in a warmer location and write something about my Avós.

Having a Voice

My grandfather Avô Gilberto died a few months after I was born so I only know him from stories and photographs. I'm told he was a larger-than-life character, quick to joke and a well-known figure in the Portuguese community. He had worked as a journalist in Portugal and after coming to the U.S. he started his own newspaper, Voz de Portugal, the Voice of Portugal. I assumed that's how the family made a living. It wasn't until Vovó Flora's funeral that I learned how the newspaper was just a labor of love. It was never really profitable. Some of the family's income came from side printing jobs but mostly it was Vovó Flora's work at the Hunt's cannery that paid the bills. There was a fair bit of resentment over that. Flora worked her shift at the cannery, worked in the printing shop, and worked to keep up the home and raise the kids. That's enough to turn anyone bitter.

I love this fake publicity still. 

Still, having a newspaper brought a certain prestige. Gilberto and Flora were invited to society events and met dignitaries. I never had considered this aspect of the family business until I looked through the old photo albums and saw the many 8 x 10 glossy prints of Vovó all dressed up at a swank party, or standing alongside important-looking people. Working hard and providing for your family is honorable but hardly notable. The newspaper was a ticket to a different social circle, and that certainly had appeal.

All dressed up and posing with some guy. 

I'm reminded again how no story is simple. The newspaper was a burden, but also a dream. The tiny house on A Street with the print shop out back was the place Vovó Flora loved. After Avô Gilberto died, Tio Lourenço kept the newspaper going as long as he could but eventually it too died. In the 1980s Flora bought a bigger house in a quieter suburb, but after a year moved back to the house she loved best. By then the neighborhood had shifted mostly commercial and there were few houses left. She liked the busy street. It was her home. And all through the years, up until the fire, the big Voz de Portugal sign stood out front. It was more than a publication. For this family, for Vovó Flora, it was an identity.

Avô Gilberto, third from the left, with some official-type people and the iconic sign.