December 7th, then and now

On December 7, 1941, the newlyweds, Bruno and Dorothy Tonetti, were returning to New York City after an idyllic two-week honeymoon in Florida. They had not called anyone or listened to the news. They turned on the radio in their car. They listened in horror, as did the rest of the nation, as news of the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, by Japan propelled the United States into World War II. The date shaped their lives forever, as it did for many men and women of that era. 

Bruno shipped out to the European theater with the Army Air Corps within two months. There was no question in his mind that, even though he was 29, he would volunteer to defend his adopted homeland from the threats of fascism that he fled as a child. Ironically, he was sent to his homeland, Italy, to mount that defense. After he was no longer needed in Europe, he was shipped to the Pacific theater, getting only two days' leave on his trip across the globe to see his bride. He served a total of 3 1/2 years and earned three Bronze Stars. The Bronze Star is awarded for meritorious service during combat on the ground. To receive three Bronze Stars, one must see a great deal of combat.

The Bronze Star Medal

I knew the Tonettis at the other end of their lifelong love story as they were members of my former congregation in New Jersey. They were married for 64 years, 55 of which they spent in the same home in Fair Lawn, New Jersey, where they raised their three children. They were both long-lived — Bruno to 94 and Dorothy to 91. I conducted both of their memorial services. They were surrounded by the love of their large extended family in their later years and were remembered with great affection by all the people in the churches and in the community where they had made such significant contributions.

The trajectory of Bruno’s story started at the conclusion of another war — at the end of World War I in 1919. Bruno was 7 years old when his family made the agonizing decision to flee their beloved homeland of Italy to escape the social and political unrest and march of fascism across their country. They came by boat to New York to live with family members who had previously made their exodus. Bruno did not talk much about those difficult first years in New York. He did tell me he marveled that bread was sold pre-sliced in America and that it wasn’t very good. He worked hard and became a manager of a real estate construction firm. It was at work that he met a lovely secretary. She had left her large family in Altoona, Pennsylvania, to find work in New York City after her father lost his construction business during the Depression. 

On the surface, their love story is one for the ages. It could have been a movie. A handsome Italian immigrant to New York works his way up to become a successful businessman who falls in love with a beautiful, smart, ambitious girl from a Pennsylvania coal and railroad town. They marry and drive off to experience the warmth and beauty of Florida and start their life together.

I hope you look a little more deeply at the story. Economic upheaval, war and political unrest propelled two young people to migrate, one from within her own country and one from a European country. For one, there was a new language to learn. They both got their start because extended family members took them in. Ties were broken. New ones had to be formed. New cultures learned. By the time I knew them at the end of their lives, they were not dwelling on the hardships they had suffered, but on the loving ties they had built together.

On December 7, 2025, 84 years after the honeymooners turned on their car radio, I wonder if we have learned anything in the intervening years. I think about the stories we miss out on and the things we could learn if we got to know immigrants instead of deporting them and seeing them as the source of our problems. We could learn of love and loss, displacement and realignment, of fortitude and courage in times of difficulty and political upheaval. Our country misses out on the gifts and skills others have to offer. Because immigrants are seen as “other,” we do not know them as people, just like us.

I am a better person because I knew Bruno and Dorothy Tonetti.