Sicilian Crossings

Yesterday, Rose and I went to Stony Brook's Yang Center to see the exhibit on the Sicilians migrating to USA. (By the way, the center is a beautiful piece of archetecture.) The exhibit consisted of a huge series of posters, pictures, replicas of documents and statistics. ( It ws tough for both of us to stand and read them all.) But my recollections of La Mano Nera ( the black hand) were reenforced, and I didn't realize that I grew up in the heart of a Sicilian community in Brooklyn (Bruculino) as it was called. In fact Montrose Avenue was the meeting place of groups of Sicilian men who formed mutual societies for lending money to buy passage to the USA, for
Piasani who wanted to bring their relatives here. These societies, and one was called theFior di
Marsala, lent money, gave mortgages, and sold insurance at nominal rates to their countrymen
who couldn't get financial help in any other way. My father was one of founders of that organization. Some of the people in the area were first generation immigrants, but most of them were second generation. They were doctors, lawyers, pharmacists, dentists. And all got their education by the toil of their parents. The fathers did the paving and the laying of railroad tracks, and the mothers sewed linings for coats in their flats. But both parents wanted their sons to be educated and professionals, and a few ( very few) even educated their daughters. The Nicosiani, the people from Nicosia, an inland town, with much French influence, were among the few mountain "guinnies" who were forward thinking. Most of the other community minded were from the western part and coast of Sicily. They had more contact with the outer world. Judge Pecora, somehow related to my in-laws, brought them together. He introduced my father-in-law to my mother -in-law. Both in America from Nicosia.
We are witnessing the same struggle by the Latino legal and illegal aliens coming here, now. However, the qualifications for admission were stringent. In many ports in Palermo, Messina, Naples and Genoa, proof of vaccination to prevent small pox, and a general health okay had to be met and besides payment before passage. A sponsor in this country had to guarantee housing and a job, as well as if the person sponsored could not take care of himself and his family, he would be shipped back at his sponsor's expense.
It was a fascinating exhibit and well worth the effort to view it.

Book group meeting

The book we read was SATURDAY by Ian McEwen. The discussion was lively. Because Henry Perowne, a brain surgeon, recognized his assailant had Huntington's disease. The propositon posed by the author was that the mind and the soul are all part of the brain. The brain is an organism, matter. If we could solved all the intricacies of the brain, we would learn the origins of human behavior. So the discussion went, is all behavior decided by our genetics or is it governed by our social environment? Can we be educated to be peaceful and responsible or is that part of our DNA? The new member of the group expressed the idea that newborn infants already have their personalities in place. That children have the same mannerisms as their parents. But couldn't that be learned. The story of Dr. Perowne's Saturday is all absorbing. His squash game is described in such vivid detail, that you know it is a metaphor. He is expressing the anger and
humiliation he experienced with his confrontation with Baxter, a thug, as a result of a minor auto accident. He is purging himself with the ferocity of the squash game. The rest of the story has
exciting action and a conclusion that leads to much discussion. We had a most exhilarating meeting. I highly recommend the book.