One Man's Family

One Man's Family By Pasquale Lorina

The illuminated dial on the giant radio was glowing in the parlor, as Pop lit his cigar. The voice of Edward R. Murrow reporting from war torn Europe was echoing throughout the apartment. This had been an evening tradition in our house ever since Germany invaded Poland in '39. Pop had a heart attack shortly after the war started so his daily ritual to keep motivated was tuning into the radio for the events of the day. Pop worked on the Brooklyn docks since he emigrated from Sicily in 1921. After the Great War, Italy was left in devastation and work was scarce. Pop had an Uncle who lived in Red Hook, he sponsored him and Pop came and lived with him. He met my mother at a show in which was a venue for the Italian Theater. After they married the couple rented a three room apartment above Chiarelli's Butcher shop on Court St. The doctors told Pop that he would have to rest for a couple of years before he could go back to the docks. It was tough, we were on Home relief and Ma took a job at Funaro's Grocery store to help out. I was still in the seventh grade during this time and after school my older brother and I worked shining shoes on the corner of Baltic and Court. We didn't make a lot of money but it helped buy some groceries while the old man was laid up. Thankfully old man Funaro had a "Book". In those days the local grocer gave some of their customer's credit and everything went into the book. Pop made sure that as soon as we got our monthly home relief check, he would run down to Funaro's and settle his account. ''You only hava you honor in this worlda", he often told me in his broken English. However, as the weeks went by Pop got stronger and the Doctor told him he could go back to work again. ''Great news Pop!!!'' I shouted as he told us the doctor's report. ''Yes, very good", he said in a low tone. I wondered to myself why he wasn't happier. He was going crazy when he was laid up and this news should have delighted the old man. I thought about it for a while in amazement, then I spoke to my Uncle Joe whom also worked on the docks. Uncle Joe told me that my father was worried because he wasn't around for a couple of years and he didn't know how the ''Men in Power" would see this. Uncle Joe also told me that a guy named Tony Giuliani ran the piers and if he didn't like you, you didn't work. I felt bad for my old man; he would have to do some groveling to get his job back. I wondered, "What about this sense of honor he spoke about?" I guess at this point with his family in mind he would have to forego his thought of honor, and how it was everything to him. Pop went back to the docks and found work. He never told us how he got on so fast and I never thought it was my place to ask. Now it didn't matter, nothing mattered since that Sunday afternoon. As Pop sat in the parlor awaiting, the Sunday feast that we always had, a news flash interrupted the program. The announcer took the carbon spring microphone and reported that the Japanese had bombed our naval base in Hawaii. I looked at Pop and he sank in his chair, my mother dropped a dish she was holding and my brother ran into the bedroom. What was going to happen? I remember my father telling me stories about war ravaged Europe during the Great War. Will this act of aggression on the behalf of Japan send us to war? That night everything just stood still, there were no cars moving, no movie theaters open and our church rang funeral chimes echoing throughout the parish. The next day, President Roosevelt had declared War on the Empire of Japan. Life as we knew it would be much different from this point on.

The country was one hundred percent behind the President's decision and guys joined the service in droves. I was too young for the draft, however my brother was 17. You couldn't enlist under 18 unless you had a signed letter from your legal guardian. My brother was full of vengeance and wanted to kill every Japanese person he saw, he wanted to join the Navy and wasn't going to let anyone stop him. Now Pop was a smart man and knew all about the world and what was going on, but because of his immigrant background he couldn't read that well. So Vinny knew how he could get into the Navy at 17, he told Pop to sign a contract that was a petition to help in the war effort. The old Man signed it happily and that was that. My brother left the next morning to enlist in the United States Navy, and guess who had to tell Ma and Pop? My father had mixed, emotions, he loved his adopted country but now what if his Vincenzo was killed in battle? He just shook his head, looked up to the sky and said in Italian ''Help my son O Lord". My Mother cried for two weeks until we got a postcard from Vinny telling us he was okay and on a nice ship in the Pacific.

As the war began to unfold, Italy allied with Germany and war was declared on them as well. Now my father had a big problem because his brothers and parents were still living in Sicily. Where would his allegiance lie? He had often told me how great Mussolini rebuilt Italy after the Great War, all the advantages that he gave the Italian people whom were starving. However my father who was a smart man, knew that Mussolini had to ally with Hitler for the good of his nation. The Germans would have taken over Italy in two days and soldiers we are not. Pop had to sign papers declaring himself to be an American and that he would make no attempts to side with his native land. I heard that Joe DiMaggio's father who is a fisherman can't go out on his boat after a certain time. I began to become afraid, we are Americans but we are Italian what will happen to us? My buddy Sal Perocrocce told me that they were putting Japanese- Americans in camps. Will they do this to Italians as well? I was much frightened of the war, of what would become of us and worried about my brother Vinny. Even though the war was on and there was rationing going on and we had to alternate days to get gas, life in house was running pretty smoothly. With Vinny overseas and Pop back to work, we were able to pay our bills. I started my second year of High School, I was going to Ebbets Field once a week and going to the parish dances. I loved Ebbets Field. I knew every player and also was able to go down in to the dugout now and then because my neighbor Mike Daley was a groundskeeper. I started taking girls there and when they saw me go into the dugout and shake the player's hands they thought I was a big shot. I often felt ashamed, I am safe at Ebbets Field and Vinny was on some ship in the Pacific theater risking his life. My mother was the never the same after Vinny enlisted, she walked around with rosary beads wrapped around her hands all day, she even stopped working at Funaro's. All she did was take care of Pop and I, and worry and pray for Vinny. My mother went to church four times a day during the war. Msgr. Gianetti joked he was going to make her an honorary Nun!

As the days went on and the war dragged on, Pop would come home and go straight to the radio. He kept his ear on it each night to follow the war correspondents that would broadcast. He couldn't get in touch or write to his family in Italy, because there was a restriction on that. So he worried that his parent's house would get destroyed by Churchill's bombardment. The English were hitting Italy with everything they had, and they were told to demoralize the citizens. I really felt for the Old Man, He had a son on one side and a family on the other. Pop wasn't a religious man, but during the war he never missed Mass at Our Lady of Peace, he was probably just asking God to watch over them all.

With the frost of fall chilling the air, the World Series over with another loss for Brooklyn the war still blazing. I really missed my brother and worried about him constantly, I didn't care about the girls, the Dodgers, or School I just wanted the Damn war to be over. The war would soon be over for us, but we didn't know it. One day as I rode my bike home I saw a telegram deliveryman at the door to the apartments, on top of the butcher. As I approached him I asked him what apartment he was looking for. He told me 2A, Bruno! I told him that was my family and he handed me this envelope. I looked at it with fear; it was from the War Department. Oh No I screamed, not Vinny, not my brother!!! I couldn't open it I was trembling. My mother was out shopping and Pop would be home soon. I stayed in my parents' bedroom and just stared out the window as the envelope lied atop the radio. I heard the door downstairs close and someone walking upstairs, I knew it was Pop because he always jingled his change. Oh God I thought, please don't let that telegram be what I think it is. Not seeing anyone around my father went as he always did to the radio. This time it was different, the news was atop of the radio in writing. I peered half of my head out of the doorway, having a clear view of the parlor I watched as my father opened the telegram. He opened it, stared at it for awhile and went to the cabinet where he kept his whisky. Pop grabbed the bottle and poured himself a healthy shot, and then he went back to his chair in the parlor and began to cry like a baby. I never heard my father cry until that day. I began to scream but he did not come to me and I didn't go to him. Shortly thereafter another noise downstairs, it was my mother coming home with groceries. Oh ,No I said to myself, she is going to get a heart attack. I stayed in the bedroom as she came in the door, Pop was in the parlor. My mother put the groceries down on the Kitchen table and went into the parlor. Then like the gates of hell were open, my mother screamed on the top of her lungs and threw herself on the floor. Trying to be strong for us, Pop picked her up and held her in his arms. In Italian he told her "He belongs to the Angels Now", I came out of the Bedroom and fell in their embrace. The war was over for us now; I picked up the telegram and read it ''Vincent Bruno died in action", my father looked at me and said in his broken English lowed from crying ''I Tolda you, you hava you honor!'' '' Your Brother died with Honor, they never forgetta!''That night the light on the Radio was dark.