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I had the world's most wonderful grandfather. He came here from Sicily, at the age of 3, through Ellis Island. He loved this country so much, he always said it was "the country of his soul". Every morning, before he even had his coffee, he'd go outside to the flagpole, which he lovingly placed in the center of a small circle of his prized lilac bushes, and raise the American flag.
Looking back now, I can see that we were poor, but we never knew it. Some of my fondest memories come from the huge barbecues he'd have on July 4th. I remember the big slices of cold watermelon, the platters of grilled sausages, the huge washbasin full of ice and cold bottles of Coca Cola, root beer, and orangeade. But, most of all, I remember him always standing and playing "God Bless America" on his accordion as we all sang along at the tops of our lungs. No one could eat until we did this. He always had tears in his eyes by the end of the song... "God bless A-mer-i-ca, my home... sweet... home...."
He embraced the Democratic Party, and all its ideals and values because he said the things it believed were the things that made America great. And, he bragged, the people it embraced and represented were those who came here with nothing and found the American Dream. He cried for days when John F. Kennedy was assassinated. He raged when Martin Luther King, Jr., and Bobby Kennedy followed. On his deathbed, he told me, his only fellow Democrat in a family of Republicans, that it would be up to me to do everything in my power to make sure America stayed free and the Democratic Party stayed strong. I promised him I would. I always kept that promise. As I watched the Katrina tragedy play out, I could hear his voice in my head ranting at the horror and injustice. Every time President Bush removes another freedom or starts another war, I hear his voice shouting "Imbacile! Ché imbacile!... Quell'uomo è un disonore!"
Today would have been his 107th birthday. As I made my coffee this morning, my thoughts were of him, and what he would think about his beloved America today. Or, what he'd think about the Democratic Party and what it has become. Would he be appalled and ashamed? Would he be angry and disappointed? I don't know. But, as I ponder this country, the state of my Party, and the world situation this morning, I'm glad he never lived to see this.
Anyway, happy birthday, Angelo! There's not a day that goes by when I don't miss you, and the America and the Democratic Party I remember along with you.
TC
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