I had a good chuckle the other morning reading venerable Gilroy resident Bill Filice chastise the Dispatch’s frequent flamer Alan Viarengo. It wasn’t that I was glad he was taking Mr. Viarengo to task for things he’s said in the past, and it wasn’t the nice things he said about Mr. Viarengo’s family (although they were nice).
Rather, it was the reminder from the elder Mr. Filice that Mr. Viagrengo should probably give some thought to how what he says publicly reflects on his family.
Now, as a columnist, I’ve had enough interaction with Mr. Viarengo via email to know that nothing in the letter from Mr. Filice will pierce his thick reactionary hide and give him pause before he writes another letter to the editor (or an email to a columnist). But I was tickled nonetheless because that same admonishment – “don’t reflect badly on your family” – is a tape from my childhood that replays in my head a great deal, too.
In my mind, my recollection is that for years, along with a kiss and a blessing, my mother also sent us off with the caution “now, remember, when you walk out that door, you’re representing Pricolos.”
I grew up in a neighborhood in east San Jose where my grandparents and uncle lived across the street, my cousin lived next door; two of my grandmother’s five sisters lived on the next block.
Skip a block, and another of her sisters lived on the block after that, around the corner from our parish church.
On the block that didn’t have a great-aunt on it lived my mother’s best friend (still, to this day), who would come over and talk all afternoon, then take her kids and go home to cook dinner, during which time she’d talk to my mother on the phone for another two hours just after she’d left.
So, in addition to my mother’s warnings to not ever do anything that would sully the family name, I had plenty of sets of eyes on me helping her, even though she worked a swing shift in a “fab” area in the nascent days of Silicon Valley, to keep me accountable.
Until my younger brother came of age, I was the only one who seemed to chafe under the constraints imposed by family and community. I couldn’t wait to go away to college, move somewhere else, to be somewhere and even someone else.
This month marked the 10-year anniversary of my dad’s passing. He was born in Los Banos, but came to San Jose when I was 9 months old. When I was 35, he died. We held two sets of memorial services, one in San Jose, and in Los Banos, before he was buried at the National Cemetery in nearby Santa Nella.
Even though he hadn’t lived Los Banos for almost 40 years, you’d think he’d never left. The old woman who used to run the town movie theater in the 1940’s came to me and said with such affection what many of our family still there felt: “thank you for bringing him home.”
I’ve been pleased to read our younger colleagues from Gilroy High reflect on what it’s like to be from a small town like Gilroy. They possess a sincere gratitude for their nurturing community I didn’t attain until I came home to bury my dad and was surrounded by my childhood playmates who told stories to my children that only those who’ve known me since before kindergarten and played a million games of basketball with me in the driveway would know.
Now they and their peers are going off to college. What better time to tell them the same kinds of things our parents and their friends told us? Remember, when you walk out that door, you represent your family.
It’s not to be read as an oppressive warning, but it means all of the following: remember, above all, we love you. Take advantage of this excellent opportunity you achieved with the support of many and do your best. Keep in mind all we have taught you. Above all, take care of yourself, now that you have no one there to impose curfew or sniff your breath when you walk in.
And, if you simply follow the one guideline: don’t do anything that will embarrass your family, all of the above will be achieved pretty easily.
Columnist Dina Campeau is a wife, mother of two teens and a resident of Morgan Hill. Her work for the last seven years has focused on affordable housing and homeless issues in Santa Clara County. Her column will be published each Saturday. Reach her at
dc******@ch*****.net
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