Benito Mussolini, the quintessential Fascist, viewed democracy with contempt, and insisted that all Italians bow to him in total subservience. If discovered, those who loved freedom would be rooted out and exterminated. Il Duce’s arrogance and addiction to unlimited power left my Italian grandparents no choice.
They loved their native land, but they loved freedom more, and as mere teenagers, fled to America. They had never seen each other, but fate had plans for them.
Early in the Twentieth Century, Pietro stood on a ship’s deck among throngs of weary, penniless immigrants like himself.
Staring into the haze of a summer day, he saw the first of two women who would determine the course of his life. She was the mighty lady with a torch, whose message read: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
The Mother of Exiles brought tears to Pietro’s eyes. He bowed his head and thanked God for this blessing above all blessings.
The other woman brought his heart into his throat. She was the petite, raven-haired beauty standing next to him when they first set foot on Ellis Island. Her name was Videlma.
Before these young Italians truly breathed free, they spent years toiling under the blank and pitiless gaze of a torrid Southern sun, tending the crops of wealthy plantation owners.
They fell in love. She called him Pete; he called her Mae. Each morning, as they climbed aboard mule-pulled wagons, hoe or cotton sack in hand, and headed their separate ways, they vowed love for each other: “Ti amo, Mae.” “Ti amo, Pete.”
Pete bought a ring, and on one knee, asked, “Lei me sposerà?” Translated, “Will you marry me?” Videlma spoke the word he longed to hear: “Si!”
Accustomed to hard work, they settled in the Mississippi Delta and set about making the American dream come true. They learned to speak English, and on one of the proudest days of their lives, became naturalized citizens of the greatest nation on earth. They bought a few acres of land, built a home, and raised four children.
Devout Christians, these two people lived to the fullest God’s definition of marriage: a lifelong union between a man and a woman. Were they alive today, they would spit in the faces of those who endorse same-sex marriage.
Pietro and Videlma celebrated Valentine’s Day 70 times. For them, caring for each other — through good years and bad, through sickness and health — was life’s first obligation.
Author Pearl Buck once observed: “The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it doesn’t answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration.” The hearts of my grandparents answered each other.
Happy Valentine’s Day, Pietro and Videlma.
Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
