Friday, February 20, 2009

Buon Compleanno, Nonno

On February 21, 1913, a baby was born in Iron Mountain, MI, to an couple that immigrated to America from Italy. As happens in many lifes, things happened and the couple were no longer together. The mother remarried and moved back to Italy with her new husband and her new baby.

The child grew up in a small, impoverished village in central Italy. He never went to a day of formal schooling, but went to work as soon as he was old enough to hold a hoe.

When the boy became a man of 18 years of age, he moved back to the United States. Even though he didn't speak a lick of English, nor could he read or write, he wanted to have a stab at the American Dream, and he wanted to get out of Italy before he got drafted into the Italian Army. He came back to the U.S. and moved back to Iron Mountain. He started to apply himself to learning English, and to know enough so he could read basic things and to sign his name, even though it took him years and he never was able to fully master the language.

Then he met the woman who would become his wife of nearly 60 years.

The newlyweds moved to southeastern Wisconsin to look for work and to raise their family. The man worked many jobs, including in a car manufacturing plant and for the City of Milwaukee, in the Public Works Department.

The couple had two children, a boy and a girl. They loved them both dearly and raised them the best that they could, even though they were never rich.

When the kids had grown, and the couple retired, they retired and moved to Central Wisconsin. He did not stay still, but cleared trees and did years and years of major landscaping by hand and by himself. He also worked for the local County, clearing brush along the side of the road.

His wife died 11 years after they moved. Even though he survived his wife by 18 years, he never stopped loving her, and said a prayer for her everyday of his life.

This man was my grandfather. His daughter was my mother.

After Mom died, my wife and I took over as his anchor to the family, and we meshed our lives with his.

Tomorrow, he would have been 96 years old. We will be taking the weekend off to share our memories with each other and to honor his memory at the place he loved best.

See you Sunday. Maybe.

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