The Weight of Feathers
Not at all heavy because they cover bodies of light bones that want to rise. When my father died, it was the first death of the older generation. He had declined slowly, and I had seen him only intermittently. He … Continued
I Wake with Rudolpho’s Music…
Puccini’s La Boheme is the quintessential Italian love story. Yes, I know, there’s always Verdi’s La Traviata with Violetta (reformed high-class prostitute) dying of TB at the end. She’s left her middle-class lover at the instigation of his father–to “save” … Continued
I Gave Birth…
It was supposed to be natural. I’d gone with my husband to childbirth education classes, learning to pant for relieving pains. The pregnancy was uneventful–I was twenty-eight years old and in good health, I walked to classes, ate well, gained … Continued
A Young Oceanographer
Growing up in Charleston, South Carolina, we built huge drip castles with moats and added draw bridges of shells. On the edge of the foamy tide, we raced and felt the ridges in the sand with our bare feet. Our … Continued
Entering the United States
When my grandfather, Giovanni Battista Fortunato, entered the United States in 1900, he probably came through Ellis Island in New York. I imagine he spoke enough English to insist that the official inscribe his correct name on the ledger. Also, … Continued
A Child-Changed Father
I’ve been reading James Carroll’s 1996 memoir An American Requiem: God, My Father and the War that Came Between Us. The phrase, “a child-changed father,” comes toward the end of the book, after Carroll’s three-star general father (also a lawyer) … Continued
Cursing in Italian
Nerves and blood vessels closer to the skin–that’s how I see Italians, compared to the WASPS who surrounded me in Charleston, South Carolina when I was a girl. (There were African-Americans, of course, but I did not go to school … Continued
A Nest of Russian Dolls
When I took apart my nest of Russian dolls, painted red and white with touches of pink for the lips and green for leaves on their cloaks, I wanted each face to be different. But each doll, which held the … Continued
My Chinese Father-in-Law
Before I married my current husband, I had no Chinese relations. I knew hardly anything at all about China, except its enormous size, the ink-drawing characters of its language, and its “great wall.” Then I met Fran and eventually his … Continued
Dandelions and Mother’s Day
When my daughter was maybe five or six, we would walk out of Prospect Park in southeast Minneapolis, cross the bridge over Highway 94, and reach our side of the Mississippi. Since the river runs north/south there before it bends … Continued