My now departed grandmother, was a typical Italian nonna. Her house was always open to all with people dropping in all the time. She kept the typical Italian-American house, and she was always hospitable. She was always solicitous of my health (meaning that if I was not eating I was not healthy) and always ready to feed me some of that good food that she had taught my mother to make.

With that in mind, I spent 1967-68 in the Republic of Vietnam serving in the United States Army. Unfortunately for me, I contracted hepatitis and had to spend 40 days in the hospital at Cam Ranh Bay. By the time I reached the hospital the serious symptoms had passed but I had to remain quarantined until my blood tests proved I was not infectious anymore. It was a boring time as I was healthy but had to stay in the hospital.

The best time of day was to go the mail tent to pick up mail. A good day when there was mail, and a not so good day when there was none.

One day I arrived at the mail tent and asked if there was any mail for me.  The mail clerk went into the back of the tent and came back carrying a package that he was holding at arm's length. His face was pained and he was not happy to be carrying the package but happy to be getting it out of the mail tent.

I took the package. It was about the size of the kind of box that holds two shirts and a couple pair of socks. It was wrapped in brown postal paper, tied with a string and had my grandmother's return address. It was also partially stained, the stain being sort of wet looking. It smelled to high heaven (as in - come in and get a bath, you smell to high heaven).

I mean, this package smelled awful, but I had to find out what it could possibly be. I walked to a nearby 55 gallon drum set up as a trash can and rested the package on the edge of the drum. I opened the package carefully, but quickly. I wanted to get rid of it into the 55 gallon drum trash can as soon as I could. When I finally opened the package it contained a cooked lasagna.

My dear grandmother wanted to make sure that I was being properly fed in that hospital and she had sent me her very own home made lasagna. She just didn't know that packages were sent to us via ship and that it would be in the hot hold of a ship for a month or more.

I never tasted that particular lasagna, but my grandmother had done more for me in that far off land than anyone could know. I never thought ill of having to dump the package into the trash. The thought of her trying to do what she always did will stay with me the rest of my life.

I told her when I returned home, and I say it again now - Thank you, Grandma.