The moving story of one immigrant family whose son is finally stepping up to vote.

I’ve been in America, legally, for 34 years, but this year will be my first time voting in a general election.

My father, Jorge Alberto, arrived in New York City from Argentina on Aug. 26, 1965. He had $12 to his name, according to family legend.

My father in Buenos Aires circa 1955. Photo via Foglia Archives.


The challenge of the American dream seemed like a cakewalk for my dad — a budding chef and baker. He promptly got a job at a Meatpacking District slaughterhouse and found an affordable apartment for himself, wife, and three children. Everything was going well.

The third day on the job, his Argentinian friend approached him and asked, in their native tongue, how everything was going. My father, in Argentinian Spanish, began to respond with, "Amazing, thank you so much for the opportunity, we’re so grateful…" before his friend quickly cut him off.

"No, no. This is America, Jorge," he said, in English. "Here we respond with 'OK.'"

My father thought he was joking. As the conversation in two languages continued, however, his friend continued to interrupt to remind him, "Only English in America, Jorge, please. OK?"

As the story goes, my dad, being the proud, stubborn man that he was, ripped off his blood-stained apron and meat covered gloves. He slammed them to the ground and proclaimed in proud Argentinian Spanish, "You can take your ‘OK’ and your ‘English’ and shove it up your ——."

That was the moment my father, 51 years ago, decided he would never learn English.

And he didn't. It was a decision that would cost him dearly later, financially speaking. Meanwhile, I grew up teaching myself English by watching "The Flintstones" and "The Jetsons."

I was raised in Boston, where there were two rules under my father's roof: (1) No English was to ever be spoken in his house and (2) No baseball.

These rules stemmed less from anti-American sentiment and were rather more about pride, or, as it's called in Argentinian Spanish, orgullo. With the history books laden with stories of bloody colonialism, Argentina, like most European-influenced countries, was a product of swift global eminent domain. Argentinians hold on to their identity whenever they found themselves outside of their native land.

I spent the '80s and '90s listening to Red Sox games on my headphones under the covers. With my dad's two staunch anti-American rules in place, it wasn't going to be an option for me to naturalize (the process of admitting a foreigner to the citizenship of a country) before or after I turned 18.

My father, older brother, and me in Boston circa 1990. Photo via Foglia Archives.

Orgullo — that Argentinian sense of pride — is why my father didn't want anyone literally planting the flag of another nation inside his consulate-like abode.

Mike, Jorge Jr., and me (I'm the dashing one in the blue polo) in San Juan circa 1981. Photo via Foglia Archives.

As I grew older, those rules weighed heavy on my sense of belonging.

I watched jealously as my peers ran to the polls to cast their votes for Al Gore in 2000. After the complications in that election and even more so when, in 2004, John Kerry ran under the slogan "Let America Be America Again," I was so excited for Boston (and the Red Sox) and for America, and I desperately wanted to get involved in the good fight.

I chomped at the bit for anything I could do to get involved with politics on campus, far from my father's eyes. I helped plan debate parties and organized events with the chair of political communication. But I still couldn't participate in American democracy the same way my peers could. Every four years, on that November Tuesday following the first Monday, I was the bridesmaid, never the bride.

Every year when I'd see my old man, his response to even the slightest mention of my becoming an American citizen was a clear "no."

When my father died in 2012, things changed. In all my grief, I also had a decision to make.

My dad passed on March 26, 2012. On March 27, I realized the only thing keeping me from becoming an American wasn't orgullo but stubbornness. I made the decision to become a citizen of the United States of America and to take part in the civic duty, honor, and responsibility of voting.

Two years later, I stood with 5,000 other people and pledged allegiance to this nation.

He never missed a fútbol game. Photo (circa 1986) via Foglia Archives.

I am proud of my heritage, but I am also proud of this country that has given me everything I have ever worked for. I am so especially proud to, finally, be an American during such an important election.

I know that wherever my father may be, he's looking at me with orgullo at the fact I was stubborn enough to do what I thought was necessary and to make the decision that was right for me. He may not agree, but I know he's proud.

One of our last pictures together. Dad and all his kids circa 2009. Photo via Foglia Archives.

We all may not agree as to what's best for America. Are parts of our nation broken? Sure. Yes, there is work to be done. But the fact that we can sit here and have this kind of dialogue is tantamount to the same ideals the founding fathers had 240 years ago. To me, as a new American citizen, it is a thing of beauty.

To be an American means continuing to melt together, to create one of the greatest democracies the world has ever seen. It's easy to turn to negativity, to point out everything wrong, and to despise what may await us on the other side of election day. But even if the result is our "doomsday" scenario, we'll survive because that's what Americans do. After every election, the history books tell the story of Americans moving forward together, making a great country even greater. Just like my dad felt orgullo to Argentina, I felt orgullo — that sense of pride in my country — for America.

We should all be proud of what we have here. Whatever the outcome on Election Day, we'll survive. We'll unify. We'll work hard. We'll come together and beat stubbornness with one simple thing: Orgullo Americano.

My father in New York City circa 1972. Photo via Foglia Archives.

True

We're redefining what normal means in these uncertain times, and although this is different for all of us, love continues to transform us for the better.

Love is what united Marie-Claire and David Archbold, who met while taking a photography class. "We went into the darkroom to see what developed," they joke—and after a decade of marriage, they know firsthand the deep commitment and connection romantic love requires.

All photos courtesy of Marie-Claire and David Archbold

However, their relationship became even sweeter when they adopted James: a little boy with a huge heart.

In the United States alone, there are roughly 122,000 children awaiting adoption according to the latest report from the U.S Department of Health and Human Services. While the goal is always for a child to be parented by and stay with their biological family, that is not always a possibility. This is where adoption offers hope—not only does it create new families, it gives birth parents an avenue through which to see their child flourish when they are not able to parent. For the right families, it's a beautiful thing.

The Archbolds knew early on that adoption was an option for them. David has three daughters from a previous marriage, but knowing their family was not yet complete, the couple embarked on a two-year journey to find their match. When the adoption agency called and told them about James, they were elated. From the moment they met him, the Archbolds knew he was meant to be part of their family. David locked eyes with the brown-eyed baby and they stared at each other in quiet wonder for such a long time that the whole room fell silent. "He still looks at me like that," said David.

The connection was mutual and instantaneous—love at first sight. The Archbolds knew that James was meant to be a part of their family. However, they faced significant challenges requiring an even deeper level of commitment due to James' medical condition.

James was born with congenital hyperinsulinism, a rare condition that causes his body to overproduce insulin, and within 2 months of his birth, he had to have surgery to remove 90% of his pancreas. There was a steep learning curve for the Archbolds, but they were already in love, and knew they were committed to the ongoing care that'd be required of bringing James into their lives. After lots of research and encouragement from James' medical team, they finally brought their son home.

Today, three-year-old James is thriving, filled with infectious joy that bubbles over and touches every person who comes in contact with him. "Part of love is when people recognize that they need to be with each other," said his adoptive grandfather. And because the Archbolds opted for an open adoption, there are even more people to love and support James as he grows.

This sweet story is brought to you by Sumo Citrus®. This oversized mandarin is celebrated for its incredible taste and distinct looks. Sumo Citrus is super-sweet, enormous, easy-to-peel, seedless, and juicy without the mess. Fans of the fruit are obsessive, stocking up from January to April when Sumo Citrus is in stores. To learn more, visit sumocitrus.com and @sumocitrus.

Terence Power / TikTok

A video of a busker in Dublin, Ireland singing "You've Got a Friend in Me" to a young boy with autism is going viral because it's just so darn adorable. The video was filmed over a year ago by Terence Power, the co-host of the popular "Talking Bollox Podcast."

It was filmed before face masks were required, so you can see the boy's beautiful reaction to the song.

Power uploaded it to TikTok because he had just joined the platform and had no idea the number of lives it would touch. "The support on it is unbelievable. I posted it on my Instagram a while back and on Facebook and the support then was amazing," he told Dublin Live.

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True

We're redefining what normal means in these uncertain times, and although this is different for all of us, love continues to transform us for the better.

Love is what united Marie-Claire and David Archbold, who met while taking a photography class. "We went into the darkroom to see what developed," they joke—and after a decade of marriage, they know firsthand the deep commitment and connection romantic love requires.

All photos courtesy of Marie-Claire and David Archbold

However, their relationship became even sweeter when they adopted James: a little boy with a huge heart.

In the United States alone, there are roughly 122,000 children awaiting adoption according to the latest report from the U.S Department of Health and Human Services. While the goal is always for a child to be parented by and stay with their biological family, that is not always a possibility. This is where adoption offers hope—not only does it create new families, it gives birth parents an avenue through which to see their child flourish when they are not able to parent. For the right families, it's a beautiful thing.

The Archbolds knew early on that adoption was an option for them. David has three daughters from a previous marriage, but knowing their family was not yet complete, the couple embarked on a two-year journey to find their match. When the adoption agency called and told them about James, they were elated. From the moment they met him, the Archbolds knew he was meant to be part of their family. David locked eyes with the brown-eyed baby and they stared at each other in quiet wonder for such a long time that the whole room fell silent. "He still looks at me like that," said David.

The connection was mutual and instantaneous—love at first sight. The Archbolds knew that James was meant to be a part of their family. However, they faced significant challenges requiring an even deeper level of commitment due to James' medical condition.

James was born with congenital hyperinsulinism, a rare condition that causes his body to overproduce insulin, and within 2 months of his birth, he had to have surgery to remove 90% of his pancreas. There was a steep learning curve for the Archbolds, but they were already in love, and knew they were committed to the ongoing care that'd be required of bringing James into their lives. After lots of research and encouragement from James' medical team, they finally brought their son home.

Today, three-year-old James is thriving, filled with infectious joy that bubbles over and touches every person who comes in contact with him. "Part of love is when people recognize that they need to be with each other," said his adoptive grandfather. And because the Archbolds opted for an open adoption, there are even more people to love and support James as he grows.

This sweet story is brought to you by Sumo Citrus®. This oversized mandarin is celebrated for its incredible taste and distinct looks. Sumo Citrus is super-sweet, enormous, easy-to-peel, seedless, and juicy without the mess. Fans of the fruit are obsessive, stocking up from January to April when Sumo Citrus is in stores. To learn more, visit sumocitrus.com and @sumocitrus.

via Pexels and @drjoekort / TikTok

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According to Kort, there can be a big chasm between our sexual and romantic orientations.

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via Ken Lund / Flickr

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The display was planned by a group of around 40 LGBT students to mark the one-year anniversary of the university sending out a letter clarifying its stance on homosexual behavior.

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