I am Italian. Let me just admit it right here and now. Sure, being Italian means I have a lot to say with my hands, with my emotions and I cry and hug all the time (I mean all the time!). Here’s just a small sample of the things that bring me to tears:
- Pictures of my kids when they were little. Especially those naked ones where I had all three in the bathtub playing with their Sponge Bob sponges.
- Any athletic win (or loss) by my Wisconsin team!
- Any movie where there is any semblance of love.
- Any movie period.
- Thinking of my kids going to college (crazy, I know!).
- Music (except the rap stuff where I can’t understand the words or I understand the swearing words).
- Almost any TV commercial.
I think as a kid, I hid the Italian nature of my being. I never cried at Lassie films (although I did throw up at Jaws). I pretended like nothing bothered me. Yet, now, just a discussion of those movies makes me teary eyed. I even cry watching “Extreme Makeover Home Edition,” when they come in and see all the time and effort put into their home!
Here are some other signs that I’m Italian:
- You can not leave my house without taking food. I really don’t care what kind of food you take from here but you can’t leave without something! One time a friend liked some left overs that we had here that he even took my left overs for left overs!
- Someone in my family in NY or Italy is wearing black every day, even years after the death of a relative … wait, that’s me!
- You will find olives in a million containers in my fridge.
- Chef Boyardee and Ragu are forbidden in my house. In fact, we call red sauce – gravy.
- I’m not afraid to serve pasta at a BBQ.
- I’m hot headed … or “passionate” as I like to call it.
So, that’s me. I’ve tried to change but to no avail. What have I said a million times (gesturing loudly with my hands)? Love yourself for who you are!
Have a great day!
