Saturday, April 10, 2010

Power of the Press
Having attended NYU Social Work School and having worked for the Coalition for the Homeless, where K resorted to putting on different accents to call and re-call the same welfare department employees to get checks for her clients, K picked up a very specific and twisted skill set. Who knew that this skill set would include remembering that two years before at T's Tae Kwon Do studio, she had met an American woman who had married an Italian man, both of whose children were friends of an English transfer classmate of T's? The Italian man had politely offered his assistance if we ever ran into problems getting our visa and he just happened to be the editor of  the America Oggi newspaper. America Oggi happens to be the American branch of La Repubblica which happens to be the journal of choice for the hardened workers of the Italian Consulate of New York as they sip their morning espresso, puff their cigarettes, and go for a 87 mile run to burn off any calories that would prohibit them from fitting into their Dolce & Gabbana size 0 turtlenecks.
 
F had a very nice conversation with this fellow dad who was very compassionate about our situation. He published a letter that K wrote in English and in grammatically horrendous Italian about how we just wanted to move to a place where family is a fundamental value and bring all our savings to invest into the country of our dreams and about how horrible it was when F was not allowed in with us for our appointment and held back by the guards etc. etc. He published this letter to the editor with a photo of the three of us in Lucca when we first came here to renew our wedding vows when T was four years old. It was a dicey thing to do; would it shame the officials into taking pity on us or would it make them hate us even more?  The photo was taken at our now dear friends Piero and Francesca's agriturismo called Fattoria Colleverde in Matraia. Of course we came back every vacation for the next six years and K would cry every time we left as if she were leaving home instead of leaving to go back home.

The next thing we knew, we were getting a call from the Italian Consulate of NY. 

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