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On several occasions she said, “I have two mothers. The one that gave me birth and the one that gave me my life: America!”
She married at age 18 and then became a mother – my mother.
Born of marginal poverty, enduring a difficult life as a child, she chose to do what millions of Italians did in the late ‘50s and ‘60s. She and my father escaped.
What history teachers taught us in high school didn’t clearly delineate is that the Marshall Plan was a series of public policies aimed at rapid redevelopment of highly populated industrial centers of the north. The agrarian south was largely still ravaged by the scars of bitter fighting in WWII.
Young people, whether their marriages were arranged or they fell in love, had limited choices. They could stay in place to an uncertain future mired in poverty, race northward to seek work, or take risks to achieve dreams of exponentially elevated economic and social success.
My parents escaped to Switzerland, where I was born. Then they escaped again, to Montreal to resume an initially failed reimagining of their lives. With limited education, hard work and personal sacrifices were the currencies to transact for a better life.
For decades, my mother told stories about her mother waving while crying uncontrollably from the dock as the cruise ship pulled away. She had warned her daughter, “I will probably never see you again.”
It was the stuff of a Martin Scorsese film.
My mother is advancing in age now. But for her,“ slowing down” is a relative term. She managed a household, raised my younger sister and me, took bus rides to work in factories, and even helped operate our family catering business.
She fought selflessly to deliver us a better life. Despite a difficult immigration experience, she proudly became a U.S. citizen at age 60. Today, with fire in her spirit and thoughtful words, she remains for all us wise counsel on the most important turns in life.
She didn’t just survive as she hoped for at age 18, she flourished. She remains our standard by which to live a good life.
In celebrating her today, we are also witnessing the course of aging. Physical limitations are emerging. However, there are also possibly the beginnings of mental acuity declines. It’s not alarming, just something we are quietly noting and thinking about: What will the future be like?
We remain close to her and my father. They won’t age alone. But we worry.
Against this backdrop of contemplation I’ve become keenly interested in the swirling debate about President Biden’s ability to lead the free world for another four years in light of what some believe is a declining state of mental health that could be detrimental to the nation.
I read with interest a well written piece by Eagle-Tribune columnist Dr. William Kolbe on 29. The headline aptly captured his thesis: “Biden’s age shouldn’t be an issue.”
I completely agree that age is not a mile marker where mental decline is crossed. I also agree that age discrimination runs rampant in this country and when tied to a political figure it becomes a lightning rod.
However, where I differ with Kolbe is in his assessment that there are various versions of “ forgetfulness” and that Biden’s form does not warrant a sentence of being relegated to the dustbin of American politics.
I watched Biden’s State Of The Union address, and when I compare Biden to my mother, I see two people who have been in command of themselves and others for most of their adult lives. And now, in their twilight years, their ability to direct the affairs of others, in particular, at the very least can be diminished. At worst it can be rendered altogether ineffective.
With the worry my family has about my mother, we are thankful she’s not running the country. Yet, Biden is the leader of the free world, and I worry about his ability to run this country.
Biden has stumbled, misplaced names and dates, and faltered when responding to questions on serious national and international issues – with cameras running.
When I watched the State Of The Union address, I saw a man struggling to overcompensate to retain a perceived ability to project command of language. I felt very uncomfortable as he rushed through a teleprompter speech, stuttering (a lifelong condition) , slurring, and raising his voice to a level that seemed upset or angry.
His seemingly unnatural straight-laced walking regimen, squinting eyes, and well documented “gaffes” are too numerous to discount as occasional events. They rise to the level of legitimate concern.
To counter Kolbe’s thesis I don’t need health credentials or medical reports to lead me to one conclusion.
I, like my family and millions of Americans who care for and worry about their parents, instinctively know that Biden is too mentally and physically frail to lead our country and possess the enormous powers of president.
Like my mother, Biden has accomplished much. However, the world becomes smaller as you age. My mother’s is manageable, but I don’t think Biden’s is.
I wish his wife and family would initiate a series of actions to be expanded through his political handlers and supporters, to propel his life’s work forward and establish a legacy.
It’s time for President Biden to pass the torch. He is utterly unfit to lead our nation anymore.
Joe D’Amore writes from Groveland.
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