My grandmother took great pride in being able to manage the everyday workings of her household. They worked on a barter system. They would sometimes trade products, or trade for other services, most of the time selling or buying on credit. Although she had never learned how to read or write, how could she keep records you ask? My Dad said, in her notebook, she would list those she did business with as symbols, she would use drawings and tallies and she would keep a record of how much they owed, and how much we owed them. She was also the village midwife. She assisted in the birth of so many babies in that area. She also birthed 14 children at home, assisted by a very good friend of hers, that had also assisted her during other births. That is extraordinary to me. 

I often wonder how far she would've gone in life if she had been blessed with different circumstances but times were difficult for women at that time. Times were difficult for the poor. Destinies that befell women were predetermined at that time. Even though we had never met her parents, my great grandparents, I wonder sometimes what type of people they were. They must've been survivors who instilled that same flame in their children. They also immigrated to a new place, to start a new life, with hope of a better life. Maybe they were somewhat progressive in theory because how would my grandmother be able to learn how to grab the reigns of a difficult life and make something of it, make it work? 

A household of 11 children, finding a way to feed everyone, clothe everyone, I'm sure was not an easy task at that time. Although they faired better than many of the families, they were still poor. A life that wouldn't be too far removed from the life that your parents and grandparents had lived. 

In those days, there were many stories about a land across the Atlantic that only lived in their dreams. America. A land of plenty, a land of opportunity, a land where you can create a life for yourself and your family and survive, if you worked hard enough. This was my grandmother's greatest wish, to find a way to get all of her children to America, where they would flourish, where they would have families, and they wouldn't struggle as much as she had struggled. Although the sentiment is different today, we forget what America meant and what it still means to so many people who have come and gone. 

That dream came to fruition when the US opened their borders to Brazilian citizens, I think it was around 1957. My grandmother couldn't believe their luck. She was a Brazilian citizen and so were her three oldest children. Two of my aunts, Maria and Isaura, and their families started the process of immigration to America. They traveled to America where they would settle in Yonkers, New York. After settling, finding homes, and jobs, they started the process of calling the rest of the family. By calling I mean, they had to write a letter stating that they were requesting that they allow a family member to immigrate and that they would take full responsibility for them while they were here. 

My grandmother then brought her youngest child, Ivone with her, who was still a minor at the time. She stayed in Yonkers for two years before returning to Portugal because my grandfather was still living at the time. He did not travel with her because he said he would never leave Portugal again. I realized not too long ago that my grandmother traveled and lived in three different continents, South America, Europe, and now North America. I wonder if she ever dreamed that she would be such a world traveler. My Mom recently showed me the street and house that she lived in while here. After her trip to the US, she would recount many of the new things that she experienced and what she loved most about it. My Dad said her favorites were ice cream, that she called 'papinhas doces', and watching boxing on tv. She told my Dad that if my grandfather passed before her, she would immigrate to America as well and stay with him. Unfortunately, that wouldn't come to pass. After her dream had been accomplished she said.. I will miss all of you very much but I know that you are all well and you will all have a much better life. You will all remain in my heart. 

My Dad was the last to come. At that time, Portugal would not allow any minor who was a boy to leave the country because they thought they were evading the draft. He would go on to serve in the Portuguese military for four years, stationed in Timor-Leste in SE Asia, before he could immigrate. After my Dad was discharged, he eventually joined his family. The stories of his many adventures are also worth telling. 

My Aunt Maria, was a true friend to the Portuguese immigrant. For many years, she was a safe haven to many, they would search her out. She would open up her home to new immigrants and help them in any way she could. She would feed them, find them homes, find them jobs. Anything they needed, she would find a way to help, making their transition a bit easier and a lot less stressful. Growing up, she would spend a lot of time with my parents in our home, in the backyard during the summer. I never heard her say a bad word about anyone, never complained, always in a great mood, laughter came easy for her, the love and pride for her family so obvious in the stories she told. She was a great woman, I miss her. She sounds a lot like her great grandmother, a beacon of light, but that's another story.