Ten inches of snow fell last night in Massachusetts, so this morning was filled with the buzz of snowblowers. The morning after a storm always feel like a communal activity as each town works together to clear space for people and their cars to continue with their lives as usual. I suppose there’s a reason it’s called “The Commonwealth of Massachusetts.”
Currently I am living in Arlington, MA with my Grandfather. It is the house that my Mom grew up in and the house that my Italian immigrant great-grandfather bought in the 1950s to move his family out of East Boston. It is a yellow house on a piece of flat land on a hill. It certainly was his best investment.
My great grandfather had no formal education. His first job was as a shepherd in rural Italy and his last job was as a barber in Harvard Square. He put all three of his children through college. My Mom always remembers how he loved asking her about her days at school when she was young. He always marveled that “you learn everything at school.”
It is interesting to take care of a house that has been in my family for so long. Raking leaves and shoveling snow feels like I am saying thank you to a generation of immigrants who made the sacrifices and commitments that have made my privileged life possible.