My family genealogical line goes back, like all do, way back. However, the record is somewhat sketchy. Beyond a few generations, darkness shrouds the hidden gems and ancestral secrets. Not that there is any earth-shaking embarrassment hiding in the past—at least not much. But some spice does make for interesting family lore. Names like Gianotti, of course, are prominent. But so are Mantel, Pruki, and some others. The branches are bunched on some sides of the family tree but prove relatively thin on the other side. So if my research seems uneven, the reader will extend this author a margin of grace and liberty.

During an episode of chance reading on the life of Michelangelo, the famed artist, sculptor, architect, and poet of the Renaissance period in Europe, I discovered that he had a good friend in his later life by the name of Donato Giannotti. Notice the spelling with two “n’s.” Word on the street (as in, I heard it from somewhere, but don’t know where, when, or from whom, but I assume that it comes by way of good authority) is that the double-n was demoted to the singular somewhere on the slide down the family tree in its sapling days. Some acquaintances in Italy, with whom I had dinner at a conference in Rome, informed me that the two spellings are most likely the same name. All this leads to the well-founded speculation that the Gianotti lineage has a reasonable possibility of connecting back to the painter of the Sistine Chapel in Rome, the renowned sculptor of the iconic marble statue depicting the David of biblical fame, simply called “David.” I must admit a bit of embarrassment at one of my possible ancestors being associated with someone who would display an image of so prominent a biblial character. displayed so prominently in the buff. Such was the stuff of the Italian Renaissance with its fixation on nude art. 

While our potentially great-nth-grand-ancestor had some talent for artistic expression (by virtue of association), there is no verifiable evidence of anyone in the Gianotti bloodline (to the knowledge of this writer) who has demonstrated much creative flair, other than an exquisite line-sketch rendition of the most famous of the Ursus arctos species, namely, Yogi Bear, the cartoon character—by yours truly. However, exquisite talent may nonetheless be latent (I must admit, very and distantly latent) in the genetic code passed down from the 15^th century A.D. and is waiting for a renewed breakout, if not here on earth, then with the return of the Lord, when the fullness of God’s image exceeds the exalted talent of Michelangelo, and when we shall all break out in the full potential of all talents we can only see occasionally here and now.

At any rate, being stuck in the here and now, I take the above connection with Donato to be true and based on actual fact—until someone provides proof otherwise. In the absence to the contrary, we shall henceforth begin with the story of my heredity, ancestry, progenity, insubstantial, consubstantial (or otherwise, unsubstantiated) myths, truths and fables (and any other words I make up in the process which the reader may be led to think must be actual words in the dictionary).

But, as you will see, some of the backgrounds of said heredity are creatively illustrative and woven in with factual stories. At this point, I have two living brothers who may affirm or deny the following reports (or plead ignorance). To them I apologize for all liberties, untruths, authorial fabrications or poetic license contained herein. However, should my brothers predecease me, then I declare everything I write here to be absolute fact! Some distant cousins might disagree with me, but they may never see these missives or even care for them. That is to be expected since every family tree becomes each person’s hope of hagiography, that is, a story of glory, of which all descendants may imbibe (or adamantly disown). Interest, therefore, is limited to those directly in the downline. But if anyone else finds some level of interest, then so be it–enjoy the self-absorbed smugness of thinking your family tree is better than mine. Send me yours, and I will give it the same attention as you are giving mine.

Someone has said that history is written by the victors. This means stories from the past are slanted in favor of those who survive long enough, who have a memory at least somewhat credible enough, and who have a sufficient desire and guts enough to dare write a history for the sake of future generations. It is always hoped that no credible historian can mount a convincing case to discredit said history. But I consider myself safe in this regard, for I cannot imagine any credible historian spending much care to research my family history. But for those interested in discovering the juicy stuff, I am ready to supply as best as I can remember from stories told by family members, articles found in research, artifacts handed down, imaginations that fill in the blanks, and anything else that prompts my story writing.

So with all the above said, now begins the collection of stories for the interest and reading enjoyment, the pride and embarrassment of my descendants (and others). I am fully aware that history is only as real as the memories. It is not what really happened in the past that matters, but what is remembered and passed on (but if anyone presses me on the validity of that statement, I will plead a full and unapologetic retort: “But, that’s how I remember it,” and expect that my strenuous assertions are accepted as anecdotally true).

Why call this series of articles, “From the Farm”? Well, much of my life has been defined by my childhood visits to my grandparent’s farm and the imaginations rooted there.

Beyond all the above, I hope the seraphim’s proclamation in Isaiah 6:3 (“The whole earth is filled with God’s glory”) will find application in this small slice of humanity. For every action, every story, contains some glimpse (even if only a whisper) of God’s presence and His glory—whether in the mundane or the humorously interesting.

I dedicate this to my brothers, Mike and Jim, our wives and children, and our children’s children, “to the fourth generation” and beyond. And I dedicate this to all my readers, for you each have your own family tree, your ancestry, in which God is and has been at work. May this inspire us, as the apostle Paul wrote, “Whether, then, you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” (1 Corinthians 10:31 – Bible)