It doesn’t matter (to me) who wins or loses this Election Day, November 3, 2020. America is doomed either way. The America I grew up in is long, long gone. The America we have now is nothing I want to be a part of. If the pandemic wasn’t so rampant in Europe I would have been long gone by now. I had already contacted my sister back in March and asked her if she wanted to accompany me back to Italy. My father still owns a house in the Mediterranean seaside town he grew up in. Over the years I have asked him repeatedly why oh why did you come to this forsaken country?
My dad came here for the money. He was 16 years old and abandoned here by his parents. Two of his cousins from New Jersey took him in and raised him. My father thought if he just became a millionaire, life in America would be good. It never was. Dad never once got the respect he thought he deserved. No matter how many millions he socked away he was nothing more than a daygo, a wop, a guinea, an “eyetalian“, a swamp guinea. He was often laughed at because of his accent. My father taught himself how to speak English by reading The NY Times and The Wall Street Journal. My mother’s family despised him, despite all being Italians themselves. My father was a northern Italian. His wife’s family were southern Italians but all born in America and college educated. Each side hated each other. Sound familiar? Daddy wasn’t born in America. He was and always would be a dirty immigrant.
Imagine being a young girl and growing up in that hateful environment?
Don’t send me comments telling me if I don’t like America I could leave, because I am. Leaving, that is. Just as soon as this pandemic is over. I’m not some narcissistic celebrity claiming to be leaving. I’m actually going. With or without my American family. I have already contacted my Italian relatives, hired an attorney (I am entitled to be an Italian citizen through birthright) and just as soon as I can I am getting out of this fucking country. I have always hated it here. I still do.
So, yes, this upcoming election means nothing to me. I didn’t even want to vote because both candidates are the worst examples of American flesh. I did an absentee ballot two weeks ago and although I’m supposed to be able to follow it online, each time I log on to the ballot website, my absentee ballot can not be found. It’s probably in some landfill by now. I’m certain my ballot got tossed in the trash. Because that’s what Americans do. They lie, steal and are the most corrupt.
Italy has no regard for a government. And why should they? Every year Italians vote in a new government and every year they laugh and scorn the government. Rightly so. Most Italians are self-sufficient. They have their vineyards, agriculture and probably the best food, wine and abundant land on the planet. Most of them are on government pensions and have perfected La Dolce Vita (The Good Life). Italians invented L’arte Di Non Fare Nulla...The Art Of Doing Nothing!
My father came from a small Italian fishing village, located on the Adriatic Sea in the Emilia-Romagna region (click here). Starting at age 16, my dad would send me back to his hometown so I could spend the summers with my Aunt Zia. I had a wonderful life there. Lots of friends. So many cousins and relatives! Many boyfriends. When we wanted a taste of a big city, we would go to Bologna (beautiful town with thee best food on the planet!) And why not enjoy life and be happy there? We were all Italian. We were all the same. We were all equal. Until they started in on their mutual hate of America. I can understand them now. I couldn’t then.
I fly into Bologna (one airline still has a direct flight). My cousins pick me up at the train station and we drive to a home, one block from the sea, that has been passed down from generation to generation. Their mother, Elsa, is my dad’s sister and we children have all inherited the house. In the summer, they split the home and rent it out, which will probably continue. The income is good. There are plenty of rooms to go around so all can enjoy the summers at the sea. In the winter, my cousins have apartments (and jobs) in Bologna. I’ll probably remain at the seashore. I don’t mind the colder weather. I just love the sea no matter what.
Gore Vidal once wrote a book about what it was like to retire in Italy. His rendition wasn’t a pleasant one, but I have a close family in Italy. I don’t think I would be abandoned to rot. Italians still respect their elders and care for them gently. My Zia Elsa taught me how to make espresso each morning, along with a biscotti. We would take our afternoon siestas and then afterwards go shopping at the piazza to pick up fruits and vegetables for the evening dinner. And of course, the freshest fish right off the boats. Aunt Elsa always made her pasta fresh, most evenings. Our favorite expression was “Mangia. Mangia. Pancia. Pancia.” (Eat. Eat. Belly. Tummy) I was always so concerned about keeping my bikini shape intact. Now? I just like the mangia part!
Good luck America. You’re going to need it. Because whomever wins on Tuesday is someone you deserve. The vaccine will be perfected and I will finally go back to where I belong. Why my father ever ventured to this horrific country is still, to this day, beyond me. America is so filled with venom, hatred, corruption and discontent. The local business owners here have been bordering up their store fronts awaiting the mob destruction. People have been stockpiling food as they are being advised to hunker down (me included) How America got to this low point is none of my concern.
I’m just counting the days till I’m outta here. Once and for all!
PS: my blog will go on because I’m certain many of you would rather see my photos of the Italian country side as well as the shoreline rather than Detroit, Baltimore or Seattle.