| Chapter 1: | The Family |
This is a limited free preview of this book. Please buy full access.
Postal Savings for my college education. Italians didn’t trust putting their money in banks during the Great Depression. I had to bring glory to my grandparents, she would say. She told me to marry a nice Italian girl. Rosalia knew a woman who lived in sin with her son. She could spot her half a block away and would order me to cross the street to avoid contact with this evil woman. Since Rosalia’s son and daughter were brought up by her mother, I was the only child she could rear on her own and she enjoyed every minute of it. Once she had taught me all she knew, she reached the conclusion that I could do nothing wrong. With my clarinet I would play all of her favorite Italian songs including “Mama,” and she would praise me after each private performance. Grandma wanted me to enjoy books and took me to the library regularly. I liked the smell of books at the library, a prerequisite for a future recipient of a Ph.D. in history. As I grew older I became her closest friend and she would sit with me for hours telling me Sicilian stories, telling me her problems, telling me her aspirations. No one else, not even grandpa, was made so aware of her inner personality. She liked to tell me that I was a good listener. My relationship with my grandma defies categorization. Perhaps only another Sicilian grandson can understand such a relationship. There were no walls separating me from my grandmother.
Grandma enjoyed the company of the other women in her building. They enjoyed playing the numbers and had a bookie that took their bets once a week. Gossip was a favorite pastime. Their humor was frequently vulgar.
Once each year, on September 17th, Rosalia was given public