Father’s Day is the day for all dads, and for me it means so much in so many ways. My dad came to America when he was just 15 years old, alone and on a boat from Italy. In 1927, that journey took almost a month. When he arrived to Ellis Island in New York, he was processed along with the thousands of other wide-eyed, scared immigrants. Once he completed that tiring, hectic process, his brother picked him up and the two returned to an apartment in New York City. Dad was hungry, tired, and scared, but he knew coming to America was the right thing to do.

My dad always taught me not to be scared, and to always do what was right, no matter the cost. That first day, my dad’s brother went off to work and left him in the apartment with instructions to eat some food, and not to answer the door. My dad was so hungry he ate an entire loaf of bread and all the lunch meat! It was at that point, that he said he knew would like America.