Reflecting on the Thanksgiving season message, I recognize that seeing myself as a victim never served me in any productive, positive way. I am in control of how I view myself and my situation.

See Coraggio!  Lessons for Living from an Italian Grandmother, Chapter 32, page 250:

“If you believe yourself a victim, you believe yourself helpless.  Believing yourself helpless extinguishes hope…Ask yourself what it is about the victim role that serves you?”

Before we begin our Thanksgiving meal, each family member shares what he or she is grateful for that year. For me this year, I am grateful for my recent successful elbow joint replacement!

How positive the outlook at the start of each day if we pause to express gratitude!

See Coraggio! Lessons for Living from an Italian Grandmother, Chapter 32, page 249:

“With “Oh, Happy Day” the concept is focused on starting each day by building a fortress of positive attitude so that as you move through your day all your interactions are protected from negative thoughts…

My rules for the “Oh Happy Day” game:
Get up everyday and start with a mental positive list of that which you are grateful. Instead of saying, My ____ hurts” start by saying, “I am thankful that I have _____.”

October 17, 2010
Fantastico to celebrate Columbus Day this week with the Italian-American Club of Lansing. I was provided an opportunity to talk about Coraggio! Lessons for Living from an Italian Grandmother and the coraggio (courage) held by our ancestors in leaving their native land of Italy to come to America and start a new life. My grandfather and grandmother came to United States at a young age and without knowing the English language, but set forth believing in a better life and hoping for a better future. They brought with them examples of people who had little material wealth and a lot of adversity, but nonetheless lived in cherishment of family and celebration of life.
There was a family in attendance at the luncheon celebrating the 100 year anniversary of their grandfather/great-grandfather coming from Italy. They acknowledged that the lives of all the people at their table in Lansing, MI, USA, were made possible by this one man’s courage.
On Columbus Day as we remember the men who courageously set forth determined to find a new world and discovering a continent we call home, we also gratefully remember the family members who gave up the safety of familiarity with their current life to forge a life of endless possibility in a new land – and in doing so provided us opportunity to partake of all the good this great nation holds.

Using my own advice from Coraggio! Book #1:

1 –Focusing on the positive – that I have two arms, “thank you God!” – instead of focusing on the fracture in the right elbow or that the left elbow is sore from having to carry the burden for both;

2 – Control over the situation – I choose to see I have  control over some aspect of the situation and it is up to me to take charge–gathering more elbow information and seeking another surgeon opinion tomorrow.

Coraggio!

I vividly recall the day I found out I had rheumatoid arthritis.  I left the family doctor’s office and drove the short distance to Nonna’s (my Italian grandmother’s) house. Sitting next to her on the couch I calmly related what the doctor had said: my case was severe, it would cripple me, and I would not finish college much less get through medical school.  Neither Nonna nor I cried.  There was no flailing of arms, no weeping.  No!  Emotion or weakness was not the Calabrese testadura (hard-headed) way. We both sat in silence; eyes fixed on her taupe shag carpet.

Ever so quietly Nonna whispered, “Coraggio, Leeza. Coraggio.” (Courage, Lisa. Courage.)

It would be years before I recognized all the facets of that phrase’s immense significance.  Yet on D-Day (Diagnosis Day) it sent a clear message.  It was up to me what my life with rheumatoid arthritis would be.  Our ancestors in the Old County were penniless and uneducated; living on what they harvested or bartered.  They suffered tragic loss of limbs and loved ones; from babies to great aunts.  They lost belongings and shelters from nature’s wrath of fire and drought.  Yet they used none of their adversity as an excuse to deprive life of laughter, celebration of togetherness or love.  I had grown up hearing Nonna tell me those stories.

In the stillness of Nonna’s three profound words was the power to push forward through life:

— Never allowing fatigue and bone-stabbing pain as an excuse for not finishing school.

— Never using daily wicked pain or an inability to walk as an excuse not to work.