" To Remember and Understand"
Hartford, CT
ppirrott
1955, road not paved yet / la strada non e' ancora asfaltata
With Lina Cultrera, best flower girl and boy EVER!!!!! / Damegellini con Lina Cultrera, mia vicina!
Must have been Easter ( new suit with shorts), late 1950's.
Forse era Pasqua: un vestito nuovo!
I love this picture, must be early 1960's!
Sembro proprio senza pensieri e felice!
Etna, February 1967.
Theatre at Chiesa Madre, mid 1960's
Teatro Chiesa Madre
Connor and Ethan
Nonno e nipotini
Bisnonna and Ethan, 2014
Polish-Check Border, 1991
Prague, 1992
Paris, 1998
Milan, 2008
Bologna, 2009
One Plus one equals three!!!!
No, this is not the New Math: I mean it to indicate that the strong cultural base I received growing up in Sicily coupled with integration into the social customs and system in the States produced a greater sum, an enriched and expanded individual. I developed and grew and emerged beyond what I believe I would have, had I been born and raised and lived my life solely in either place. The sum is greater than its parts.
I hasten to add that it had to be done in that sequence, Sicily first and then the U.S. It was easier for me to fit into a more disciplined business and social environment than would be for someone born in America to integrate into the looser Italian social system, where traditions and connections are still so prevalent. It was easier for me to attend schools here because of the more severe and difficult learning environment in Italy, easier than it would be for an American high school student to move to Italy and attend University there. And for someone emigrating from the U.S. to Italy to duplicate a banking career, I am sure it would be almost impossible without assistance from the well connected and the politicians.
What did Canicattini offer that made it such an attractive place to grow up? I realize that most people still think of Sicily as Mafia country, but save the occasional disappearance of some cows that I am sure made their way to local butchers, nothing much happened there. I don't believe there was a single murder in the twenty years I lived there.
Let me sum it up: We stayed out until late at night and never worried, walking home, that we were at risk of anything. Drugs were nonexistent. We watched very little TV (as I mentioned, for most of this time Italian TV had only one channel and broadcast a limited schedule) and spent most of our time at the Piazza or Villa with our friends or playing improvised soccer games in the middle of a street, where there were not many cars to disturb us. Soccer was the only sport we played and watched, and it was not an exercise for the faint of heart, as fights between inter-town and intra-town rivals were common. School was tough and teachers were not shy in applying corporal punishment, at least in elementary school, not to mention the additional retribution we could count on getting at home when our parents found out we had misbehaved. I was also lucky to play a minor role in a theater group associated with the local church, and some of those guys were really talented. Of course the major Catholic holidays were a point of reference for the entire population and an opportunity to see and be seen.
Socially, the 60s of course were a radicalized period in the history of the world and we were no different, with demonstrations galore against police brutality, against Vietnam, against racism in the U.S., against the state and against owners or firms. For most of my high school years I went to school in the afternoon because we did not have enough classrooms to accommodate all students during the morning. I recall how invariably the first week of each school year, which back then started October 1st, all students would go "on strike" to protest the lack of classrooms—another week of vacation! Personally, I loved going to school in the afternoon, since it meant I could sleep until 10 or 11am. And I still so miss my schoolmates: best friends ever and forever.
I did not know it then, but nothing could have prepared me for a future career in international banking better than the experiences have just described. I was always interested in geography and history and international travel was always fascinating, so when the opportunity came to emigrate to the U.S. with my parents, I did so happily. I brought with me a sense of social values, of respect for others, of humility; here, I also acquired a discipline and commitment to objectives that I had never had before. I acquired a sense of reliance on self vs. government—which is, in my mind, the biggest difference between Italy and America.
I often think: Where would I be today had I remained in Sicily? Would I have been able to grow personally and in my career as I have been able to do here in the States? I doubt it! I say this not with any sense of superiority but in recognition that the Italian business and employment system would have prevented reaching certain managerial levels that I was free to pursue here. It is likely that I would have never moved away from Canicattini. I would have married there and had a family and lived very comfortably—but never experienced the people, places, cultures and sights that have made me a more complete person.
And had I even emigrated to, say, northern Italy or Germany, as many of my friends did, I still doubt that it would have worked out as well as it did here. The melting pot that is America, for all of its shortcomings and faults, is still far superior to any other in offering immigrants like myself an opportunity to succeed. I am not even a shining beacon at that, not when compared to some of the most famous of American entrepreneurs who came here from diverse places such as India, Russia, Vietnam, etc. No, the American system is unique, and I am not sure it can be duplicated elsewhere as is practiced here.
I have referred in this book to my feeling of "not belonging," in the sense that growing up in Sicily I was not raised to pursue a career or to aspire to a position of middle or senior management in large financial institutions (I worked in a couple banks that were in the top fifty largest commercial banks in the U.S.). So when I got there, when I reached those levels, I asked myself: How did this happen? I also experienced this sense of wonder when I traveled overseas and saw sights I had previously only studied about or seen pictures of in history books. I felt awed and fortunate to be able to experience so much.
Even these feelings and accomplishments pale in comparison to what I consider my greatest achievement: becoming a more complete father and husband by learning to be not only or not even primarily a provider of material benefits (the house, the car, etc.) but also and primarily a provider of moral and mental support for family and other folks (at least most of the time, I am NOT a saint).
The marriage problems that came about from my wife's conversion to the Jehovah Witness religion were extremely challenging, and also allowed me to learn so much about myself and what makes me tick, to learn about all the ways that our upbringing conditions so many of our responses . . . and it allowed me to learn how to change! The challenges we have faced in housing and caring for our mothers have helped put into perspective and practice those priorities that are easy to agree to but so difficult to carry out. Fortunately, we could afford to do it as well as chose to do it.
However, all other work and family experiences pale when compared to the challenges of dealing with my wife's mental illness. If it were up to me, I would make books such as the one I mentioned earlier by Dr. Peck mandatory reading in high school. The point is that we are taught many things, but nothing prepares us to deal with mental illness, or even to recognize it. Sure, we can identify a nervous breakdown, but why do we not see the signs preceding it? If I had had more knowledge and sensitivity to my wife's situation, would that support and understanding have been sufficient to prevent her from looking to JW for solace and support? Could I have then prevented her later problems? Maybe not—but I still would like to have been better prepared, to have seen what was happening. (Interesting discussion, but also somewhat useless!)
Two lessons I have learned: to stop asking why things happen (and why to me) and to stop trying to change the past. Acceptance of the situation, and cultivating the ability to deal with it, are the only real solutions.
I consider this an unfinished book. We have many interesting years ahead of us and we are so enjoying our lives together, and especially our grandson Connor! I do hope I get to write the next chapters, twenty years from now. One thing will not change: One plus one equals three!
Hartford, CT
ppirrott