The Italian immigrant stood before the judge, nervously turning his grey fedora over in his hand, wondering what the judge would say. Applying for citizenship required answering questions about the USA, and so he waited nervously for the judge to enter the room. Suddenly as the justice stepped forward and sat behind his bench, the silence was broken and the judge, staring down at the poor Italian immigrant was about to speak.
The tension was so great for the poor immigrant he began to blurt out:
“Heur honora, I’ma good a citizena, I paya my taxes, know about a George a Washington, and I lova dis a country, pleasea maka me a American Citizen!”
The judge, taken aback by the poor immigrants plea, slowly looked down at the poor immigrant, and with his index pointing upward for emphasis said:
“Hasa long a I’ma da judgea, you gonna be a American Citizena!”
|That's her in the black dress.|
Funny how lately I’ve been thinking of my grandmother. She died at the age of 97 way back in 1991, and had she taken better care of herself, would have been alive today. Maybe she could have joined a gym, or taken up yoga, maybe even speed walking. In fact I’m creating a historic novel based on her life that was filled with a lot of drama and excitement. She was a great lady I realize now that I miss her and wish I could talk to her and ask her questions.
That got me thinking about myself: and what my great grandkids will think of me. Will they be interested in looking me up, finding out who I was and what I did? Will I have any impact on their lives and what they think?
Que sera: sera.
When you look at it, I will pale in comparison to my grandparents and their history, but still will the later generation really care? Will they want to know about the world under the threat of a nuclear war, or terrorism? Will landing on the moon be significant? Hiroshima, Nagasaki, and Pearl Harbor, will they be curious? Or will the birth of the Internet be the question?
I often wondered what living in a tenement would be like, having the hardships my grandparents faced, and even my parents. Who were the interesting characters that populated the family, what happened to them, what did they do?
I try to leave as much as I can for my kids, my nieces and nephews, writing this blogue, cutting a CD of my mom’s recipes for future generations to have and know. I put in little stories and facts about family life, and I wonder if any of them still have that CD, now that their grandmother has passed? I wonder if any of them even care?
Like they say: “Que sera: sera.”
By the way, today is St. Joseph’s Day, a day when once upon a time, a tradition was that in Italian families, cream puffs were made to celebrate the occasion.
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