Wednesday, March 07, 2007


Twice now a stranger has been able to intuitively know something about me. At the airport last December, a woman checked me in for my flight, saw my last name and knew exactly which part of Italy my Grandfather came from. Not just the general area but the exact town. And then, two days ago, a man saw me on the street and yelled, “Siciliano!” He was from Sicily, or so he said, and recognized a brother. I apologized for not speaking Italian, much less with any understanding of Sicilian dialect, but managed to figure out his sob story and help him with some change. Even if he was a con man, he was that damn good and had certainly earned the money.