Preserving Memory Through the Lens of Famiglia                                                                  

When I retired from the Illinois Department of Transportation and moved to Mountain Home, Arkansas, in 2008, I didn’t expect to become a writer. But as time passed and I entered my early seventies, surrounded by quiet hills and gifted with time to reflect, I felt a deep pull toward something more profound, a need to preserve the stories that had shaped my family and community. Retirement gave me space to listen, and memory gave me a mission. 

I was born and raised on Chicago’s Far South Side, in the Roseland, Kensington, and Pullman neighborhoods. These weren’t just places on a map—they were living, breathing communities where many Italian immigrant families, including my paternal grandfather Carmine Arvia’s, built their homes, raised their children, and carried on traditions. These neighborhoods were rich with culture, faith, and resilience. Over time, however, I realized many of their stories were fading. Photographs were tucked away in drawers. Names were being forgotten. Landmarks were disappearing. And so, I began to collect—not just images, but fragments of life. 

What started as a modest personal project quickly grew into the Famiglia photobook series. Across five volumes, I gathered more than 1,800 contributed photographs from over 200 families. Each image tells a story: a wedding day in a church that no longer stands, a grandmother stirring sauce in a now-silent kitchen, a group of boys playing softball on a narrow neighborhood street, now old men. These moments, once ordinary, now carry extraordinary emotional weight. They are visual echoes of a time when community was everything. 

I chose to keep the text minimal. I wanted the photographs to speak for themselves, to allow readers to see their own loved ones in the faces and places captured. The emotional resonance of these images doesn’t need embellishment. Each page is a quiet tribute to the lives we lived and the people we loved. The simplicity of the layout invites reflection, not distraction.  

But Famiglia is more than nostalgia. It’s a bridge between generations. I’ve heard from younger readers who never knew their great-grandparents but now feel a sense of connection through these visual stories. I’ve seen families gather around the books, pointing to faces and sharing memories that might otherwise have been lost. That’s the power of preservation—not just keeping history but reviving it. These books have become communal memory banks, sparking conversations and rekindling bonds. They’ve helped people remember who they are and where they come from. 

My journey into heritage didn’t stop with Chicago. I traced my ancestry back to the early 1600s in Alessandria del Carretto, a small town in Calabria where my paternal family’s story began. I’ve worked closely with local historians and archivists to uncover records, photographs, and family connections. Through their help and my own research, I’ve come to understand the rhythms of that town—the traditions, the architecture, the names that echo through generations. Even from across the ocean, it remains a vital part of who I am. The past is not a place we leave behind; it’s a place we carry forward. 

Along the way, I’ve also published several magazine articles focused on cultural preservation, family memory, and the emotional power of storytelling. These pieces have enabled me to reach a wider audience and contribute to the ongoing dialogue about heritage and identity. Each article is another thread in the tapestry I’m weaving—one stitched with memory, meaning, and shared heritage. I’ve found that when you share your story, you invite others to share theirs. 

Writing and preserving these stories has given my retirement a sense of purpose I never anticipated. I don’t just document history; I honor it. I connect with generations and give voice to lives that might otherwise be forgotten. Every family has a story worth telling and preserving. 

And if we don’t do it now, who will? 

All images provided by James W. Arvia.