When I was a child, music played in my house every day. It was very natural to hear the radio playing and to hear my mother sing. She sang as she combed my hair and, as she did her household chores. My sister and I were the recipients of her words set to music, and her expressions of love that filled the air. My mother told me stories about my grandparents and their journey to America from Naples, Italy. I don't know if my family in Italy shared her love for music or not, but I do know that the family who came later taught me to enjoy and love not only music but to love one another and to share that love with the world. My mother's stories have given me all that I needed to raise a fine family. I am proud to be the granddaughter of immigrants, and I want my family and all of the people who share their roots with people from foreign lands to be as proud as they were to be Americans.