If you had a time machine and could send just one message to your past self, what would it say?
I don’t know if everyone knows this or not, but there’s an entire corner of the internet dedicated to “Eldest Daughter Syndrome.” It seems like it applies largely to immigrant families where the oldest daughters and/or oldest granddaughters get stuck with a LOT, like becoming the family’s default adult long before they’re actually adults, translating for parents, managing paperwork and appointments, mediating conflicts, supervising younger siblings, and generally absorbing emotional labor that “should” belong to a parent. The pattern often continues into adulthood.
Now, I’m not saying I had to do any of that really hard stuff. (I’m a third generation immigrant. My parents were both born here and did fine. My grandfather was born in Italy and died young, and my grandmother was illiterate in both English and Italian, although she spoke and understood English just fine.) Still, I do relate a bit to the Eldest Daughter problems that other women describe. Being the oldest, I think I tried too hard to please my parents. I cared too much what they thought. As I’ve mentioned many times, I was raised Catholic. I think I took the fifth commandment “Honor thy Mother and Father” too seriously. I tried too hard to be perfect — for them. Also, I was made to feel responsible for some of my sister’s problems, which were completely beyond my control.
So, I guess my message to my younger self would be, don’t worry so much about what Mom and Dad think, especially Dad. It’s OK to disappoint them. You do you.
Perfect me with my father and sister on my First Communion day. That dumb veil pinched my head so much.
I’m not sure chaos is good for us but it is unavoidable. Everyone, no matter how privileged, will experience some chaos.
My grandmother, who came from a very poor immigrant family and lost her husband suddenly in her late thirties with four children to feed, used to say “be grateful for boring days.”
Rare photo of my grandmother (at the sink) at some point after her husband died of complications from what should have been a routine surgery. The family thinks he was simply neglected by hospital staff who treated him as a second-class person because he was an immigrant. My grandmother was born on Christmas Day 1902 and was a widow for over 50 years.
What’s a piece of media (book, movie, song) that changed how you see the world?
Weirdly the book that’s coming to mind is Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt, which came out in 1996 and won a Pulitzer. It seemed that everyone read it at the same time.
It’s a memoir of McCourt’s desperately impoverished childhood in Limerick, Ireland, after his family returned from Brooklyn. It follows young Frank navigating alcoholism, death, hunger, and humiliation, centered on his father’s chronic drunkenness and his resilient mother Angela.
McCourt was the same generation as my parents—born in the 1930s. Their parents were also poor Catholic immigrants, including some from Ireland to Brooklyn like McCourt.
I still think of that book when people talk about income inequality, tenements, an alcoholic father, or “food insecurity” (aka starvation) in a country of plenty.
I know they made a film out of it, but it’s the book that stayed with me.
Which languages do you speak and how did that impact your life?
I’m a native English speaker which has facilitated my laziness in never becoming fluent in a second language. (That’s my excuse anyway.) I’m in awe of all the bi and tri linguals here on WordPress.
The closest I ever got to fluency in another language was Italian during my semester in Rome, but that’s mostly gone now. It was so long ago. If you don’t use it, you lose it.
I can also pull out some words and phrases in French and Spanish when necessary. But let’s face it, it is very rarely necessary. Nearly everyone I encounter, even when traveling, speaks English.
Exciting news! I won a free sandwich at my local convenience store & deli. The guy that called to tell me the good news is a native Arabic speaker, but his English is great, just like so many other immigrants.
I watched almost all of the Grammys on Sunday night and I really enjoyed them, even though I didn’t know most of the music.
I always like Trevor Noah—the host. (Everyone should read his memoir “Born a Crime” about growing up as a biracial kid in South Africa.) I thought Trevor’s jokes were funny and not too mean. Our whiny-ass, thin-skinned President is suing Trevor over one mention of him in connection with Jeffrey Epstein, even though Trump’s name is reportedly in the newly released Epstein files over 1,000 times!
I liked the fact that the diverse array of artists who took the stage didn’t shy away from talking about what’s going on in the country. Many wore black & white “ICE OUT” pins, including the legend herself—Carole King.
Carole King, one of the all time greatest songwriters
The highlights for me were Olivia Dean and Bad Bunny’s acceptance speeches. Here’s what they said:
Best New Artist Olivia Dean:
“I guess I want to say I’m up here as a granddaughter of an immigrant. I wouldn’t be here — I’m a product of bravery, and I think those people deserve to be celebrated. We’re nothing without each other. Thank you so much.”
I did a little research and learned that Olivia Dean’s maternal grandmother was born in Guyana and emigrated to the United Kingdom as part of the “Windrush” generation — a post-World War II movement of Caribbean migrants invited to Britain to help rebuild the country. They arrived in Britain between 1948 and the early 1970s on ships like the Empire Windrush.
Bad Bunny, who is Puerto Rican, spoke movingly from the heart. He opened his first acceptance speech by saying “ICE OUT,” which got a standing ovation. He then said, “We’re not savage, we’re not animals, we’re not aliens. We are humans, and we are Americans. Hate gets more powerful with more hate. The only thing that is more powerful than hate is love. So please. We need to be different. If we fight, we have to do it with love. We don’t hate them. We love our people, we love our family, and that’s the way to do it, with love.”
I didn’t stay up to see him win Album of the Year (the first time ever that a Spanish language album got this award), but when I watched later I saw that he dedicated the award “to all the people who had to leave their homeland, their country, to follow their dreams.”
I mean, come ON, if you didn’t love Benito before, you gotta love him now! I really can’t wait to see what he does for the Super Bowl halftime show. Check out the teaser he dropped yesterday.
We already know that Trump and all the American traitors who support him are not in favor of a Latino performer at the Super Bowl, but I think it’s going to be great and just what the country needs.
I will be rooting for the New England Patriots because that’s our team, but I’m not happy that owner Robert Kraft was seen with Trump at the opening screening of the ridiculous “Melania” documentary vanity project. Bad Kraft!! Very Bad!
My own immigrant grandparents, circa 1925
In 1905, my grandfather bravely left Southern Italy alone at age 15 with $12.00 in his pocket to start a new life in the United States of America. Just like Olivia Dean said, “I am a product of bravery.”
As I prepare to turn sixty in 77 days, I am working on my Bucket List (things I want to do and places I want to see before I “kick the bucket”). I’ve always been one to keep a “to do” list (I like getting stuff done), but this one is fun. I started it shortly after my dear friend Carla unexpectedly got sick and passed away in 2022 at age 57.
I try to really think about places and experiences that call to me, not just rack up instagrammable, exotic locations. I have reasons for wanting to see these places. For the bigger trips, I try to keep the budget to $10,000 (or less) for the two of us for a full week. I know that’s a lot of money for a lot of folks, but believe me, I know people that spend a whole hell of a lot more than that on their luxury vacations. I would say we are “budget conscious” travelers, but I will splurge on special experiences like dinner in the Eiffel Tower or a helicopter ride over the Grand Canyon.
Is there any other foreign country that looms quite so large in the American psyche? I don’t think so!
Like millions of other Americans, I am a descendant of poor Irish immigrants. My great grandmother Mary Barry was from Dublin.
My mother’s father’s mother, Mary Barry, with six of her children, including my maternal grandfather Henry (far right). She was born in Dublin, Ireland in 1880 and died in Queens, NY in 1952. She immigrated to America, through Ellis Island, in 1903. She was 23 years old and arrived with three US dollars to her name.
This trip to Ireland will mark my first group tour experience. We’ve never been on a weeklong tour before. I usually book the hotels and do all the planning myself, but since it’s my birthday, I wanted to give myself a break and have someone else do the planning.
I looked at many types of tours (including on bikes and boats), but ultimately decided to try a Rick Steves tour. Good old Rick—PBS super nerd! I love his guidebooks and his travel philosophy in general. Plus, he is a well known weed-smoking liberal, so the chances of having any Trumpers in our group are slim.
So now, I need to start reading more about Ireland. I’ve already watched many of the recent TV shows and movies set there, including the excellent miniseries about The Troubles—Say Nothing.
Our tour is in the Republic of Ireland only, but I’m contemplating taking a trip up to Belfast (Northern Ireland, UK) at the end of the trip. We will be staying a few extra days in Dublin, where our son will join us, so I need to make some plans for that time.
Please send your Dublin recommendations and any advice you might have about planning a day trip to Belfast.
Also, books! What should I read to help truly understand the heart of this country and its people, from whom so many of us Americans descend?
I’m open to the classics, as well as modern fiction, historical fiction and nonfiction.
Chris of A New Life After Cancer reminded me that it’s International Women’s Day (IWD), which is not typically on our radar (or our calendars) in the US.
With the resurgence of full blown patriarchy on steroids here, it’s probably a good year to remember to mark IWD!
I’ll start with Boston Mayor Michelle Wu who did a great job defending our city in front of the bullies in Congress this week. She was forced to travel to DC to testify in front of hostile MAGA legislators just 7 weeks after giving birth and many found her calm, brave strength inspiring.
Boston Mayor Michelle Wu with 7-week old Mira in Washington DC on Ash Wednesday
Thank you Mayor Wu—a strong and fearless millennial.
Modern wisdom would have you believe that virtually every relationship (except for an abusive one) has a positive impact on you. I’m always reading articles about the “crisis of loneliness” which is leading to “deaths of despair,” especially in men. Apparently even small, positive, daily interactions with other humans can lead to a sense of well-being. I read one article about how self checkout at pharmacies and other stores is depriving the elderly of meaningful opportunities to have face-to-face contact with human clerks and cashiers. If this is true, then extroverts have a distinct advantage. Not everyone is comfortable smiling and engaging strangers in small talk.
As I was saying goodbye to people at work in November, I realized that some of the folks I would miss the most were staff at the garage where I parked in Boston. Three Ethiopian-Americans–Yousef, DJ and Rachel–were there, night and day, helping me out for 10+ years. Parking is a total nightmare in Boston. There are not enough spaces for all the cars and being a part-timer, I never wanted to spring for a monthly spot (which are exorbitantly priced), so I always hustled around to different parking lots trying to get an open spot at a decent rate, until I found MY garage. They were always so kind to me there. They’d take my car, even if they didn’t have an all-day spot open and move it midday. They smiled, asked me how I was, and even gave me my own key to the building, so I could get in or out after hours. They gave me a break on the price and sometimes didn’t charge me at all.
In turn, I smiled and chatted with them a lot, tipped them at Christmas, and tried to help out if they asked me for any advice about American logistical things, like which towns had better schools or how to get services for a child with disabilities. Fortunately, I got to say a proper goodbye to DJ and Yousef and give them a big hug, but sadly, I didn’t see Rachel on my last day. However, about a month prior to my departure (before I knew I was leaving), Rachel said the nicest thing to me. We were chatting as I was paying and about to exit the garage and she told me that she appreciated how I spoke to her and her colleagues. She said I treated them with kindness and respect (unlike some other customers) and that I was “a good woman.” A good woman. Honestly, it brought tears to my eyes then, and still does. Hardworking Rachel, immigrant from Africa, mother of two boys that she’s putting through college on her parking garage wages is a good woman too.
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