I owe my childhood-my life-to my grandparents.
Pietro and Domenica Burzio never imagined adopting the role of parents in their mid forties.
The responsibility was thrust upon them by their daughter Vivina's unexpected pregnancy.
As farmers living in a small village at the foot of the Italian Alps, Pietro and Domenica had invested hard earned capital to assure a successful career for their daughter.
She had been sent to a Catholic convent boarding school, followed by a teacher's college.
As expected, my grandparents were shocked and disappointed at their 21-year-old unwed daughter's predicament.
Pietro and Domenica, my nonni, willingly took on the unexpected responsibility.
It became their labor of love.
Vivina continued to live at home in Pranzalito, a town of 120 inhabitants.
Although it was certainly not the first such pregnancy, the Catholic small town mentality created a shameful existence, especially after she gave birth.
As my mother put it, "Raising a child alone was considered a disgrace.
I felt guilty, worthless, and restless...
" In spite of the socio-economic challenges, my grandparents were determined to become co-parents.
Nevertheless, my mother was unhappy being dependent; there were few jobs in post-World War II Italy.
Since many townspeople were emigrating to the United States in search of higher economic rewards, Vivina made her courageous decision-to obtain a passport and passage to the New World.
Pietro and Domenica willingly accepted their new role as my surrogate parents when I was only 15 months old.
As to be expected, my mother missed me and wanted me to join the new family she had established in the New World.
This was inconceivable to the three of us who had solidified our own family bonds.
With time, the endearing letters crossing the Atlantic became an ultimatum.
To keep our bonds intact, my grandparents decided to make the ultimate sacrifice: liquidate their farm and accompany me to America-AND subsequently turn me over to my parents.
On July 17, 1956, my grandparents and I boarded the Andrea Doria.
Pietro and Domenica felt much trepidation, while I felt only excitement.
What could be better after all? I would be with my nonni and soon with a new family: a stepfather, a mother, and a one-year-old sister.
Tragically, what happened on the last night of our voyage nearly drowned my grandparents' past sacrifices and immigrant dreams.
At 11:10 p.
m.
, the Swedish liner Stockholm indiscriminately broadsided us at full speed, penetrating one third of our vessel six stories high, then ripping open the star board side cabins and fuel tanks.
The impact took the lives of 43 passengers.
Thankfully, our small family unit survived to become a part of history's greatest sea rescue.
As we rowed to our rescue ship, we sadly bid goodbye to any remnants of our former life.
If only this could have been the beginning of a great new life.
Ironically, the ocean journey that was supposed to unite a family stranded us islands apart.
Family tribulations continued and resulted in two divorces: that of my grandparents, and, later, that of my parents.
For decades, I was truly drifting, not only between continents, but also unhappily between fidelities.
As for the uprooting of families from their establish gardens, so that they can all be planted together in a new one, the act is full of challenges.
The blending of my family, although it admirable concept, caused more strain that could have been foreseen.
In fact, the Promised Land promised only disillusionment.
But I have learned that life is truly a test of character, and if it is true that obstacles don't change character, they reveal it.
I have discovered a character that is able to survive and transcend the obstacles in my life's journey.
* Nevertheless, I am not beyond feeling some pain and guilt for having transplanted my grandparents.
To keep me grounded, I focus on the gratitude I feel for their love, upbringing, and sacrifice.
Undoubtedly, I was the most fortunate grandchild in the world.
Often, I wonder if I could ever be so grand as to give selfless love, leave my country and community, and start a new life in a strange land for a grandchild.
Honestly, I don't know; fortunately, I will never have to know.
All that I'm sure of is that Pietro and Domenica Burzio, my nonni, made the ultimate sacrifice for me.
I do hope they thought it was worth it; I would like to believe that I returned their love and did what I could to make them proud of me.
In fact, my literary work, Alive on the Andrea Doria, is dedicated to them: To my grandparents, who raised me with love and sacrificed all their worldly goods and ways to accompany me to America.
*Excerpt from Alive in the Andrea Doria! The Greatest Sea Rescue in History, by Pierette Domenica Simpson, New York,with Morgan James publishing, 2008.
In this country alone, there are over 2 ½ million fortunate grandchildren who are receiving basic needs and nurturing from their grandparents.
Over 6 billion of them share a home with her grandparents.
These wonderful souls called grandpa and grandma don't expect anything for their loving support-except perhaps a sincere wish for a Happy Grandparents Day! NB.
This account has been written in honor of my grandparents on Grandparents Day, September 13, 2009.