When my family immigrated from Italy to the United States, one of the few things my mother brought here for herself was her Latin dictionary — something that, despite its weight and apparent impracticality, she couldn’t bear to leave behind. Having attended a classical high school in Italy (as opposed to a technical or scientific high school), she devoted herself to studying Latin and Greek and took immense pride in this academic background, working hard to eventually become a journalist. This dictionary was a symbol of her identity, her accomplishments, her education, her intellectual curiosity, and her family’s cultural heritage. During the World War II bombings in northern Italy, a dictionary was one of the only things her great-grandfather (who taught Greek and Latin) was able to salvage from the school. The language barrier she encountered left her unable to express herself as she once did. To this day, she still remembers specific moments where simple tasks such as asking for breadcrumbs at the grocery store became sources of frustration and immense isolation. This book was a source of reassurance, an anchor to her past during a period of tumultuous change. Her experience with language has greatly influenced mine, and it is part of the reason why I learned Spanish and am studying Mandarin. Today, this still sits on our bookshelf as a testament to her resilience, the struggles that she faced, and the culture she carried with her across an ocean.

– DS

Relationship:  Im/migrant Im/migrant