It was my Grandma Fanny’s birthday earlier this month. She would have turned 91 years old this year. This summer, my Grandpa Dan passed away on July 9^th exactly 9 months after my Grandma Fanny. Lately, I’ve been reflecting on the imprint family leaves on our lives, especially those who have passed on. My grandparents were both ordinary people, but they left an extraordinary mark on their communities and my life.

Growing up, I thought all grandparents traveled around in an RV. I didn’t realize what my grandparents were doing was special or unique in any way. When they retired, my grandparents decided they wanted to travel across the country, so they sold their home in Connecticut and got to it. They spent time in nearly every state and every corner of the country. Every time they would come to visit us in Minnesota I remember being so excited to get to sit in the big RV and explore with my sister. I also remember getting potty trained in it! After a few years, they decided to settle down in a town nestled in the foothills of the San Bernardino mountains in California called Yucaipa.

My grandparents taught me about the connectedness of people and how if one group of people is being treated unjustly it affects everyone. They taught me to speak up. They practiced the art of paying attention and taking action, but in different ways.

My grandma was a force of nature, and the kindest person you’d ever meet. She grew up in the Bronx to a working class family. She was the first in her family to be born in the U.S. As a young adult, my grandma was an interpreter for Italian cancer patients and their families at Sloan Kettering hospital in New York City in the early 1950’s (note: I learned about her work as an interpreter just a year before she passed). She talked about the challenges of having to share difficult news with family members and being in high demand with interpreting because of her fluency in Italian.

During the years when she raised my mom and her 3 siblings, she worked as a school nurse. After my grandparents settled down in Yucaipa, she became very involved in their new community with the local chamber of commerce, garden club, and substitute teaching at nearby schools. In 2001, my grandma was recognized as “Citizen of the Year” by Yucaipa’s chamber of commerce for her advocacy in revitalizing a local park and dedicating it to the veterans in their community.

She was such a creative person, and the only person I know to have grown an entire avocado tree out of a single avocado pit! She was known by so many people for her “green thumb” but I always admired her for the attention, care, and leadership she showed in so many areas of her life.

My grandpa grew up in St. Alban’s NYC, and had many stories to tell about his experiences growing up as a first-generation immigrant in the ’30s-40’s. He was a trailblazer in education for students with disabilities in the ‘70’s and a talented writer. I remember reading one of his books, “Taller than Bandai Mountain”, about Dr. Hideyo Noguchi and being astonished that he was the author. Throughout middle school and high school I shared the essays I wrote for school with my grandpa and always adored his responses to my writing.

My grandpa wrote extensively about Italian Americans in the U.S. and discrimination they faced in the early and mid-20^th century part. He didn’t shy away from writing about the xenophobia, systemic oppression, and the role the government played in targeting immigrants. He wrote about the forced removal and detention of Japanese Americans during WWII and the unjust treatment of Chinese Americans during the railroad construction in the 1800s. His poetry inspired me in my own writing. Many of his poems can be found through the University of Minnesota’s Immigration History Research Center.

Lately, I’ve been thinking of my grandparents and what their responses might be with the current times we are living in. I think they would be outraged by this administration’s misuse of power, the fear they are stoking, and the dehumanization of marginalized people in this country, especially immigrants.

During the pandemic, I started calling my grandparents on a regular basis, something I hadn’t done as an adult prior. Everytime I would call them, there was a routine. My grandma would answer first, and ask me about the weather. There would be rustling in the background and I would hear my grandma tracking down my grandpa, and getting him on the phone with her.

Almost every call included stories of how they met. My grandpa always emphasized that he had to travel all the way from St. Alban’s in Queens to the Bronx where my grandma lived, which to his credit is actually quite a haul. My grandma would chuckle and chime in to correct my grandpa’s telling of it or share a detail he hadn’t mentioned. Then, my grandparents would say something about how proud they were of me, and our conversation would steer toward commentary on the news or what they watched on TV recently.

I miss them. They were incredible people, and very ordinary. I feel compelled to tell their stories to serve as a reminder to not be silent in these unsurmountable challenges we’re facing in our country and in the world.

In the last card I wrote to my grandpa, I shared a poem that had been on my mind written by Ada Limon called Dead Stars. You can listen to it read by the author here or read the poem here. A few of my favorite stanzas include:

But mostly we’re forgetting we’re dead stars too, my mouth is full
       of dust and I wish to reclaim the rising—

to lean in the spotlight of streetlight with you, toward
       what’s larger within us, toward how we were born.

Look, we are not unspectacular things.
       We’ve come this far, survived this much. What

would happen if we decided to survive more? To love harder?

If you feel compelled, please consider a donation in my grandparents’ memory toward the following nonprofit organizations doing work with folks on the margins and building communities of care around Yucaipa CA, where my grandparents lived, or find an org in your community:

• Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights (San Bernadino)
• Family Service Association
• South Coast Community Services
• Steps 4 Life Community Services
• United Way (East Valley)

May you find meaningful ways to honor those who have left an imprint on your life, and hold their memories close.