I will always cherish the memorable Thanksgiving of 1947. My father came to New York City to meet the family he had left behind in Italy many years ago. When we arrived in America we traveled to Sharon, Penn. by train. My father’s distant cousin and her husband picked us up, and we went directly to their home.

A traditional Thanksgiving meal was ready to be served, welcoming us to America, even though it was not the actual date of this great American feast. I was famished. As we crossed the stormy Atlantic Ocean for two long weeks, I was seasick throughout the entire trip. My only refuge was to lay in bed and daydream about what it would be like when we at last arrived in America.