Scribblings

My immigrant grandparents were animals?

Wow. That POS currently sullying the White House sure knows how to be an asshole without seeming to even try. Is there not one adult in his circle willing to tell him that you shouldn’t say everything that pops into your mind without first thinking about how it might sound… you know, especially if you are currently pretending to be president of what used to be these great United States.

My grandparents were immigrants. And while they did not come from one of those countries POS thinks are shit holes, they did come here totally illiterate with few skills. All they had was their determination to do whatever was needed to make a better world for their children. Is that how POS defines animals? Because that is the dream of every immigrant who ever came to this country. And probably 99% did just that, thus contributing doctors, lawyers, lawmakers, scientists, authors and poets, among others, to America’s wonderful patchwork quilt of life. They gave us Chinese take out, pizza, pho, borscht, sushi and margaritas. How can anyone complain about that?

The neighborhood I grew up in was full of Italian immigrants. The nuns who taught me at St. Michael’s often taught with significant Italian accents. We were learning English together. And boy did we learn it. Walking down the streets of Ducktown was the safest I’ve ever been because every nonna in the neighborhood had an eye on what was happening. The guys hanging out on the corner looking like they were trying out for West Side Story did not scare me except for the fact that I knew if I did anything wrong, they’d rat me out to my parents in a heartbeat. Conversely, if someone scared me, those guys would have come out swinging to make sure I was safe.

Our life revolved around the church. St. Michael’s was where my dad was a Knight of Columbus and my mother was a member of the Mary Help of Christians Sodality. They held spaghetti feeds, carnivals, church celebrations – you name it and the Knights were there in full festive garb and the women were somewhere behind them making sure the kids were in line and there was enough food for an army.

Does that sound like a neighborhood filled with animals?

My family was filled with immigrants. They weren’t animals. They might have been illiterate but that did not stop them from building a life for themselves and their children… you know, much like Trump’s ancestors immigrated to America and made a better life for his father and him. Oh wait, maybe it was his ancestors who were animals and he just figured if he came from animals then the rest of us who are descended from immigrants are also animals.

Actually, the more I think about it, the more I think the animals are the ones who should be insulted. They have more nobility, honor and integrity than any of Trump’s ancestors did. And he inherited even less.

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