So I share a lot about my family and the madness that ensues when we are all together, but one thing I have never shared is that my grandfather was in fact an anchor baby. That's right, my great-grandmother gave birth to him and Uncle Leo in Brooklyn, and then fled back to Italy. Okay, they didn't exactly say flee, as it took over two weeks by boat to get back, but she left America to raise her children as Italians while giving them the option to make a life for themselves if they chose to in America. If it wasn't for Nonna, I may not have been an American citizen, and perhaps my life would have been spent as an Italian girl squashing grapes on the family farm, which also doesn't sound too bad. Something tells me that I would be an even more pain in the ass in the Italian. God knows I already am in French.
As us expats are reminded of every year we pay our American taxes from France, being an American comes with responsibilities. So when my Grandfather returned back to the States as a young man he was immediately served with papers that would take him back to Europe. No, he wasn't being deported, but because he was an American, he was being enlisted into the United States Navy where months later he stormed the coasts of Normandy during World War II. I'm not sure he even spoke English at the time.
Whenever me or my cousins moan and complain about little things like the DVR not recording the season finale of The Jersey Shore, my grandfather calls us Normandy, putting us in our place that our lives are charmed. "Hey Normandy over there," he screams from across the table waving a piece of bread in the air, "When I was your age I saw my best friend's head blow up on the ship when we were invading the nazis in Francia! Now that's a problem!" That sort of puts things into perspective, wouldn't you say? Grandpa always wins arguments with his handy nazi card, because really, what can you say after that?
No matter how cruel, or lame some of my French ex-boyfriends were, each and everyone of them have thanked my grandfather for his service in World War II, particularly his effort at the events that took place at Normandy. This has always made me feel proud. I'm proud of his accomplishments, proud to be his granddaughter, and grateful for his sacrifices that has made the life of my family in America easier. Tonight we're taking him out dinner to celebrate him and his achievements on the 69th anniversary of D-Day.
Thank you Grandpa and ahoy!
At the airport yesterday, a flight heading out to London Heathrow was filled with veterans who have also fought in World War II were heading to Normandy to reenact D-Day. This was the official procession to the gate.
