Papa’s Letter To friends and aquaintences, my father was a wonderful storyteller, who could make you laugh with his impersonations of those he found fault with. They also found him to be very cordial, generous and kind. To us, his children, and our mother, he was all those things in the presence of those acquaintances, but we also knew he was the king of the roost, and the final say in all things concerning anything we wished to do. We knew him as the taskmaster who required us to report to him as soon as we got home from school, so that he could assign some dreadful chore or other for us to perform. He was never abusive physically but demanded respect and obedience. He did not shower his children with hugs or other words or signs of affection, altough we knew he loved us. We hardly ever saw him be affectionate to Mama, but we knew he would never allow any harm to come to her. I tell you all this, because after Mama’s death, among her few small possessions hidden in her dresser drawer, we found a letter written to her many years before. Yes, a love letter from Papa to her, when he courted her in Molfetta, Italy. The letter made us aware that this hardworking, demanding taskmaster was once also a young man, very much in love, and able to profess that love with words.
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