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This is a story about my aunt who married an American during the War.
She had been recently widowed-having been seriously injured in a motorcycle accident while pregnant and her first husband killed.The baby survived and my aunt met her husband to be-Alfonso Salvatore Proto-at a dance in Blackpool where the family were living in a caravan!
He was archetypically attentive, generous and charming.
However, when she went back to boston with him, she got a shock. The promised acres of land turned out to be a backyard and none of his family spoke much English.She rose early to start preparing Italian meals; she felt very isolated and used to walk around town with her head down.
It wasn't till my mother visited 20 years later that she admitted how hard it had been. Her own mother had tried to warn her but she had taken no notice.
Anyway, all's well that ends well-she eventually had a prosperous and comfortable life and learned how to cope with the cultural divide.

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