My maternal grandparents emigrated to the United States from Italy, aka the Old Country, in the early 1900s. Eager to assimilate into their new country, they shunned their native tongue for English. Later came World War II, and it wasn't terribly popular to be Italian in the United States. As a result, my mother, like many children of Italian immigrants of the time, never learned more than a couple of words in Italian.Perhaps this was by design.
What if they were royally frustrated by their children and started yelling (with hand motions as Italians are prone to do)...in a language the kids didn't understand. Parents blow off steam while children remain emotionally intact. They don't know what their parents were saying! Only that they were mad. The only thing the kids take away are a few choice words to remind them of their heritage. Voila!
2 comments:
As much as I so enjoy reading your blog, I must admit I am feeling guilty about how many posts you have cranked out since my last post. Did your mom (ok, I am pretty sure you said maternal grandparents but now I am having a moment of self-doubt about it) ever meet her grandparents? Can you imagine meeting your grandparents and having no idea what they were saying, even if you were an adult at the time? I actually know quite a few people who are in that situation. Can you imagine if one of our children left the US to marry someone in a different culture, language, etc and you couldn't communicate with your grandchildren without an interpreter? Fortunately, english is becoming quite a universal language, so perhaps we have nothing to fear except our grandchildren swearing at us in a foreign tongue.
Yeah, I cyberstalked last night and was hoping for some new insight into AlliBurton...yesh, deliberate pun on Haliburton...and found nothing. Although, I wouldn't suggest staying up 'til the wee hours of the morning to do it.
And I don't know which, if any, of my mom's grandparents she met. And no, I can't imagine not being able to communicate with my grandchildren. But that is mostly a product of not being able to imagine having grandchildren.
Post a Comment