Decisions, Decisions, Decisions

We all suffer through the pangs of making difficult decisions. The path not taken haunts most of us in one form or another. Whoever you would have been if you had taken that other turn, or made that other choice, is never going to exist. That puts a lot of weight on some of our decisions.

Since I opened up the subject of Mom and her poetry readings again yesterday, I'd like to add one of my favorites to the list. I'd hate for it to get lost forever. I know she didn't write it, and I'm not sure anyone knows who did, but she recited it in high school with an Italian accent, one of many she could mimic at that time, along with Finish and Swedish. You'd never guess how shy she is. I could never get her to do this in public now. Maybe she was braver then, or just more comfortable with her high school friends.

Here's the difficult decision of a young Italian man, ready to begin his own family. I've always wondered who he chose. (I hope it was Carlotta.)

Between Two Loves
I gotta love for Angela.
I love Carlotta too.
I no can marry both of them,
So what I gonna do?

Oh, Angela is pretty girl!
She's gotta hair so black, so curl,
And teeth so white as anything!
And oh, she's gotta voice to sing
That make your heart think it must jump
Right up and dance or it will bust!
And all the time she sing, her eyes
They smile just like Italia's skies,
And makin' flirting looks at you.
But that is all what she can do.

Carlotta is no gotta song,
But she is twice as big and strong
As Angela. And she no look
So beautiful—but she can cook!
You ought to see her carry wood;
I tell you what, it do you good.
When she is be somebody's wife,
She work'a hard, you bet my life!
She never getting tired, too.
But that is all what she can do.

Oh, my! I wish that Angela
Was strong for carry wood,
Or Carlotta got a song
And look'a pretty good.
I gotta love for Angela.
I love Carlotta too.
I no can marry both of them
So what I gonna do?