Memoirs of Mary Lupardi

Giovanni Lopardo is memorialized here by his grand-daughter Ann.

I would like to recall a real ragpicker, in the literal sense of the word. My grandfather was unknown to me, other than by stories told by my father. But Grandpa was a ragpicker, in the metaphorical sense, also. He was an orphan by the time he was 18 years old in Italy, the only son of a landowner. He wanted to see a new world, so he came to America, and here he made his living as a ragpicker, until he died of a heart attack at the age of 42. My father Anthony was nine years old, and he became the man of the house. His mother, my grandmother, was a midwife. Between them they produced an only son, my father, and four daughters. Their love and special commitment, in the face of poverty, descend to me and my children. I want to thank Holy Providence for John Lopardo (aka John Lupardi).

The newspaper does not agree with Ann's recollection. Guess you can't always trust what is in print.