[This was originally posted last year; in light of her recent surgery, I thought it apropos to repost].
I can think of no living woman stronger than my wife’s grandmother. We call her “Nonni.”
Nonni was born in a poor Sicilian village in the early part of the last century. She was part of a large family, and learned early the value of hard work. Being one of the younger children, she also learned early the sadness of loss: an older sibling was killed in South America (where he had emigrated), and her own father apparently died when she was about ten. Nevertheless, she pressed on, helping her mother provide for the family.