Beyond Dad’s Broken English

Once I thought Dad’s values were not practical in my America.  Now, years later on what would have been his 80^th birthday I write this to honor his memory and his broken Italian/American voice that still rings clear in my ears.

        

“You shou’da been a boy, JoJo.”  That meant he recognized strength in me. 

“Learn music.  We make wedding band.”  It never happened.  But for a while we shared a dream and passion.    

I hated school and quit at age sixteen.  “You work in the store now.”  I got something money couldn’t buy; motivation.  I got my GED, enrolled in college and in time graduated.      

On my fairytale day, just before we walked down the isle, he said, “You can still change your mind.”  He hid his fears well. 

Years later, he knew he could lean on me as we walked with dignity and unspoken hope to the chemotherapy ward.