Self Evidence: Today, I Am…?

By Peter Alduino

My grandfather came over on the boat from Sicily at the age of 20, landed at Ellis Island in New York Harbor on April 30, 1900, settled among his Italian relatives in Brooklyn, and set up shop as a barber. In 1904, he married a farm girl, newly arrived in America from his home village of Juliana in the Sicilian mountains. He was naturalized an American citizen on May 6, 1905. My grandmother gave birth to four children, three boys and a girl, and my grandfather made sure his family was never wanting for food or shelter, in no small way because he had a great mind for numbers and regularly won at Pinochle. He and the other Italian men in the neighborhood would play for hours after work. Several times a week, he’d buy ice cream or pastries at the corner German bakery for his kids with part of the winnings. He’d help out his brothers and cousins with a loan when they asked. He’d take half a day off on Sundays to be with the family; otherwise he was in his shop.

At least that is the story that I was told by my uncle and my aunt. I repeat it because I like it. You know, it is a pioneering, self-assured, make-your-own-way-in-the-world American story. Support a family by laboring with your hands by day, and by playing and winning at cards by night – it sounds tough. Treat the kids, and help out the relatives – it sounds tender. Work your tail off to provide because that is our lot, and we embrace it – it sounds noble.

But that is all I really know about my grandfather. He died before I was born, and my father never really talked much about him. So all I really have are the sound bites: provided for his family, always put food on the table, good at cards, a pioneer, gutsy and principled. That is the only memory of my grandfather to survive today. Not much of a story. Not much to be remembered by or remembered for. And since I am one of only a few remaining progeny of his family, not much, if anything at all, about my grandfather, will survive me.

I don’t know that my grandfather gave much thought to how he wanted to be remembered. I suspect he had his hands full just getting from one day to the next. As he lived and toiled and took care of his family, my grandfather was just being who he was. History would take care of itself.

And history will take care of my remembrance, too. I doubt that very much, if anything, about me will survive much beyond me, or the brief memories of my contemporaries.

And yet, I do pose the question to myself, “How do I want to be remembered?” But why? Why do I invest emotional energy in pondering this heavy question if the memory of me and my life, like that of my grandfather, will prove to be little more than a sound-bite, remembered by few, spoken of seldom and forgotten so soon?

I have come to acknowledge and accept that if I am remembered at all, I am going to be remembered in many different ways by the many different people with whom I have crossed paths during my life: parents, partners, lovers, friends, teachers, teammates, therapists, colleagues, coworkers, children, caregivers, casual acquaintances, official biographers, unofficial biographers, and the list can go on for pages. I can neither recapture nor redirect any of the metaphorical water that has already passed under the bridge. In the minds of some, the sound bite is already set.

So, where does that leave me? Where does that leave any of us?

It leaves me more sober. It leaves me more present. It leaves me more responsible to my self, and for my self – today. I now seldom ponder, “How do I want to be remembered?” Instead, I ask, “How do I want to be?” I focus not on the when I am gone, instead, I focus on the as I am. I focus on the right here, the right now – on the moments that of their own accord, and without any help from me, coalesce into the hours, the days, and the years of my life, today. I focus on my behaviors, and words and actions that of their own accord evidence who I am and who I strive to be, today. History will take care of itself.

“Who am I, today?” you might ask. That is the essential question for each one of us to ponder.

What does the evidence suggest?