My mother’s parents came here from Calabria, Italy. They opened a grocery store in Connecticut. My father’s Jewish parents came here from Russia and Austria. My grandfather worked in the hat industry in New York, and then Connecticut. My husband’s father came here from Vienna, after his father escaped from a concentration camp, a rich lawyer back home, he worked as a janitor once he arrived and became an accountant once he learned the language. My husband’s mother’s family came from England.
We are all immigrants. That’s what this country is made of. “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses…..” I’m proud of my ancestors. I’m proud to be of immigrant stock.
What are we doing right now? WHAT ARE WE BECOMING?
I’m only happy that my parents are dead, because this would kill them, like it’s killing me.
*the gratitude-a-thon 