Family has been on my mind a lot lately, and in filling out the application for a passport today I had to go look at some documents relating to my parents. One thing led to another and I ended up looking at some old journal entries, one of which I am posting this morning, written in November of 2001.
How can I put into words all that my mother and father meant to me? There is no doubt in my mind that everything that I am, everything that I have accomplished, and everything that I may accomplish, I owe to them. I was blessed with a mother and father and a large, warm extended family that provided an unending source of love and nurturing. I had the good fortune of growing up feeling good about myself, something that sadly is not afforded to all children.
I want to write about them, but can’t. Although my mother as been dead for 11 years, and my father for 7 years, I still cannot bring myself to try to put their lives to words. There are none I can call forth that will do justice to who they were and to all that they meant to me.
Mom.....wise and perceptive...especially regarding people...imensely creative...fun loving...caring....bold and courageous....unafraid of the unknown....uncomplaining....encouraging...putting others’ needs before her own, to a fault.
Dad...warm and caring....generous...family above everything...passionate about politics, gardening, and anything Italian....always a farmer....to the left of liberal...anticlerical.
Neither of them pretentuous...they were real and unassuming with no need to pretend or to impress...everyone was treated the same way-with warmth and respect.
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