I dropped by a local mom and pop general store the other day to pick up something. Alas, and to my surprise, they were out of stock. I got to talking with the cashier/proprietor and she said that they were out of 35 percent of the items they normally carry. Looking around the store, the shelves seemed full. But, as she pointed out and phrased it, there were "a lot of some things and a lot of no things."
“The government is merely a servant; it cannot be its prerogative to determine what is right and what is wrong, and decide who is a patriot and who isn't.”
~ Mark Twain
An acquaintance operates a recruiting agency that he founded after he graduated from business school almost 20 years ago. He survived the 2008 economic crash but isn't sure he will make it this time. Hardly anyone is hiring in the fields he services, and when they are, no one is applying. I asked how badly he had been hit. He said he only billed about a million dollars last year. I had no idea employment agencies were so lucrative, not that I'd ever thought about it. I said so you are still making pretty good money anyway. But he shook his head. In 2019 he had billed over eight million dollars.
“The present facts are that the world is insane.”
― Martin Luther
I stopped by a local diner to have their grilled cheese-and-jalapeño sandwich and garlic fries dusted with chili powder and began chatting with an old guy (he said he was 85) who had been sitting a few stools away but moved over next to me with his coffee and pie. He said he hoped I didn't mind but he hated to eat a alone. He offered to buy me a slice of key lime pie but I passed but did accept his offer of a cup of coffee. He began talking about the swell times he had back in the horse-and-buggy days, a subject I never tire of hearing about. One thing he said struck me. He said that as a child he was taught that the road to success in life was to be diligent, humble and sincere. People would notice and you would be rewarded. He said that had been true when he was young but that at some point it changed and the brash, bungling boasters had taken over. It's all crap now, he said. The counterman, who had been half listening, came over then and asked the old guy if there was something wrong with his pie.
“He did not give a damn for the world or the universe or heaven or hell. But he liked women.”
― John Fante
Does the "wop" in doo-wop refer to Italians? Just kidding. But there sure were a lot of Italian singing groups and solo artists back when -- Bobby Rydell, Fabian, Frankie Avalon, Bobby Darin, Connie Francis, Freddy Cannon, Frankie Valli, Connie Stevens, Santo and Johnny, Dion.... They practically owned pop music. I got to thinking about Italian-Americans after I read
something about them being denigrated as nothing but gangsters and
thugs that our country would have been better off without. I put down my
pizza slice and set aside my glass of Chianti, turned off the Frank
Sinatra recording and pondered.
A
few years ago I participated in an oral history project to record the
memories of World War II vets before they passed from the scene. My
assignment was a retired insurance salesman who had flown P-40s with the
325th Fighter Group, the Checkertails, in North Africa and Italy. One
of the stories he told was about the time he was shot down by ground
fire during the invasion of Sicily. He was fished out of the water near
a small village by some fishermen who brought him to shore where he was
met by a delegation that included the mayor, the village school teacher
and the local Fascist party official. The mayor's wife took his
soaking wet and tattered uniform to be washed and mended. Then he had
lunch with the mayor's family and the others. The Fascist party official
wanted to know why Americans -- Americans!
--
were attacking them. They all loved America. And, as it turned out,
the school teacher had been born in New York City and only came to
Sicily to visit his grandparents, then got stuck there when the US entered
the European war. The mayor had worked for 25 years in construction in
St. Louis and retired to his native village. His children and grandchildren were scattered throughout the States. The Fascist had never been
to America but his brother lived in New Jersey. So they all had a
jolly meal, deciding not to discuss the war or politics but baseball.
How was Joe DiMaggio doing? Later some British paras arrived in the
town and the Fascist made himself scarce. My P-40 pilot greeted the
Brits in company with the mayor and school teacher, welcoming them and
informing them there were no soldiers in the town nor anything of
military value. The paras were suspicious of the trio, especially the
pilot, who, when they asked for ID, could not provide any because his
credentials were with his uniform, which was off being mended. The
Brits decided all three were spies and planned to shoot them, then roust
the inhabitants of the town and detain all males. But before they
could carry out their plans a patrol of Americans commanded by an
Italian-American arrived and things got straightened out over a few
bottles of wine and a nice dinner.
