I know exactly where I get my feisty go go attitude from.  You may think my dad.  You meet him once and see a tough guy.  Nah!  I get it from my Azorean mom.  She came to America with her parents and worked on a dairy farm in northern California as a young girl.  My gramma cleaned hotel rooms.  My grandfather was a “pond monkey” at the lumber yard.  Not an easy task when you are talking about redwoods.  Jumping from moving log to moving log knowing you will be crushed if you fall in.  Many never made it out of that job but Joe was a good swimmer in the old country.  No money but freedom.  Priceless freedom to be anything you want to be.  You just have to work for it.   You better bet I was brought up to know that fact and earn it.  I married a first generation American just to top it off for extra measure.  Two young kids that only know one truth.  It’s possible.  If you fall on your face and you bet we have done that, you GET UP.  You get up because you want to honor the lives of the dairy hand, the maid and the pond monkey.  They made a sacrifice for a child that wasn’t born yet.  They had a dream for me before I arrived, an American dream.