In 1972, I emigrated to America from Italy with my two small children. I had no job and spoke no English. It wasn’t easy finding my way at first, but over the years, I created my own successful housekeeping service. Recently, I was at a new client’s home when the doorbell rang.
“I’m friends with the man who lives here,” the man at the door said. “I’m here to fix his computer.”
“Yes, of course, I was told you might be coming,” I said.
“Are you Italian?” the repairman asked. He must have recognized my accent, one thing that hasn’t changed much over the years.
“Yes,” I answered. We started talking.
“My grandfather was an Italian immigrant,” he said. “If it weren’t for strangers helping him when he arrived here, he wouldn’t have made it. So he did the same for others. He used to drag me and my friend…
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