A LETTER FROM UNCLE JOHN

In December, 1995, my nephew James, was beginning to do a little genealogical research. At that time, he approached the last living of my father's brothers, John, to write a little of what he knew about family. The photo to the left and the accompanying letter, plus another letter, is what John sent him. In the photo which was taken in the late 1930,s, my Uncle John is the first on one the left. The other's, left to write are my aunts and uncles. Two of my uncles are not in the photo. They are, in order, John, Joseph, Lucy, Michael,(behind Lucy), Frances and James, (my father). Missing are William (the oldest) and Thomas (the youngest).

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The following is transcribed a letter from Uncle John.

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" Dec. 1995

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JOHN VERDI

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Born in 1916, Sent into a Catholic Institution at the age of 3.

I remember being in a crib high side bars. Remember how I

cried when I was being taken to the doctors for what I believe was

tonsils. I fought the nuns who brought me there. I remember an

elevator door closing, etc. I continued to screemed (sic) all the way. I

also remembered a time I hear bells & the noise of fire apparatus

from the streets. I jumped up from my bed and saw for the first time - a

horse drawn fire apparatus through a nearby window - smoke blowing out

of the top. It was very exciting for us kids. I used to remember the ad-

dress & street quite well all these years. I'm getting on in years - my next

birthday will be 80 yrs, June 19th.

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As I grew on in years I was transfered from the Sacred Heart Home

to another orphanage in Farmingdale, L. I., New York. There I was with

my brother Joe. I'm not sure if Joe was always with me in both

orphanages in Brooklyn & now on Long Island. I stayed in Farmingdale until I was

13 & Joe 15 when our brother Jim went to visit us. He borrowed his friends

car and now took us for a ride back to New York. He never returned us

back to the orphanage. So now we are, mixed up teenagers in the big

city on the lower Eastside, Grand St. & Gareck St.

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TO DISCRIBE (sic) THE TIMES IN THIS ERREA (sic). 1929

STAMPS ... cost 2C... GERMAN BAKERY--- 5 SUGAR OR CRUMB BUNS---5C

BREAD 6C TO 10C - COFFEE 5C -NEWSPAPER-2C-3C- FRENCHYS BAKERY 5BUNS -8C

LARGE PIES 25-30C-1/4 PIE -5C - MILK WAS BOUGHT (BRING YOUR CONTAINER)

PINT -1/2 PINT-QT. A MEASURE DIPPER WAS USED-

SANDWICH-HAM, CHEESE TOMATO & ON (SIC)--- PORK CHOPS-25C a LB -

BASEBALL GAMES-50C BLEACHERS

SOUP & BREAD 10-15C - TRAIN TROLLEY-5C-- MOVIES-10C-5 PICTURES -

WITH BAND ON TIMES SQUARE-25C
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We still had horsedrawn wagons. My oldest brother William who Joe & I was dumped on

an was newly married. Jim dumped us on him. He had it tough - hired a horse & wagon

to pedal fruits & vegetables before he finally got a steady job. Jim drove a cab.

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Lucky to make a couple of dollars a day. Rates were low. At this time my brother Willie with me included, could only give his wife a dollar a day for food... 3 0f us. Joe went out on his own. He did not return to school. I did. Joe found a job in dry goods & worked at it for years. He worked too as a house painter.

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Homes were heated by kitchen stove (Wood or coal) NO AIR COND.; OPEN WINDOWS

OR COOLED OFF ON TAR BEACH (THE ROOF) THEATRES HAD SHOWN MOVIES ON ROOF (CALLED ROOF GARDENS) It was a treat if it did not rain.

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My family came from Italy, in the area of Naples. I was told from an island called called Ischia,

a small island off of Naples. Grandma was the 1st. She came, as I was told, with her son, John Felicetti & daughters, Margaret, Josefine & my mom Mary & another who returned back to Italy. Grandma did not come to America with her husband, my grandfather. Why? I do not know. Grandpa's family, I am told, was well to do. Grandma took him away from them. They never accepted her and maybe that is why she came to America. Grandma was tough & demanding too. She was the strong one. All the daughters answered to her even when they married & all to Italian immigrants. All had large families. Our family as best as I can explain.

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NOTE: THE NEXT PARAGRAPH IS SKIPPED AS IT IS A BREAKDOWN OF FAMILY NAMES.

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As for my brother James (my father) he was a funny man. A man who lived a tough young life through the depression years. Little to eat, but plenty of laughs. Jim was street smart, but never in trouble. Education? I do not know. When I knew him he drove a cab and when needed, Grandma took his money or he had no place to sleep or eat. Jim took life serious when he got married. During WWII he was in the trucking business & handled all Goodyear tires in & around the City of New York. I believe the RACKETS MOBS cut in on his business & he was forced to pay off from his profits."

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That's one of the letters to which I will add more of in future articles. It says a lot in a few words and to me at least, creates a picture of the memory of an 80 year old man's childhood. The other letter's are equally evocative of a time gone by. If you still have living ancestors, record their recollection, because, when they are gone, their memories are also gone. The stories and the memories are priceless.

WHY DID MY GRANDPARENTS COME TO AMERICA

After looking at all the beautiful travelogues of Southern Italy, from where my paternal grandparents came, I wondered why, at the turn of the 20th century, they would give up everything to come to a foreign land where no one spoke their language and many left their families behind to look for work in America.

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There were reasons, but what were they. It seems , due to the political climate of the country, the economy was healthy in the industrial North but in the South it was tough to make ends meet. The South was primarily farmers who worked long hours for very low wages. The Southern Italians, mostly men, came to America with the intent of earning, and saving enough money to return to a better life in Italy. They did not plan on staying in the US permanently. They were Southern Italians and that is where they wanted to be. Due to a bloody Civil

War in the last quarter of the 19th century, Southern Italy was in dire economic straits and their citizens had no other choice.

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My great grandfather, Francesco Verdi came when he was 39 with his son, Francesco Jr. my grandfather, who was 19. They listed themselves as laborers even though they were farmers.

It was a tough life and far from what they thought it would be.. My grandfather married when he was 20 to another immigrant, Maria Felicetti, also 20. They had six (6) children together. 4 boys and 2 girls. My grandfather died at 29 yars of age from a burst appendix leaving his wife of 29 years old with 6 little children. One was my father, James. My grandmother remarried, had 2 more boys, and died at age 38. All my aunts and uncles went into Catholic homes for a time and eventually stayed with their 63 year old Aunt, Maria Felicetti. So it didn't quite work out the way my great-grandfather planned it. I still haven't found out about my great-grandmother, who was left behind in Italy, but I will. All my uncles fought in WW II and survived to have families of their own.

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It is interesting to note that in a book written in 1902, "The World's Work", that the "Race Average per Capita" of money held by immigrants passing through Ellis Island showed that Northern Italians had the highest $23.53 and the Southern Italians the lowest average of $8.67. The following is quoted from this book.

"Roughly speaking, the North-of-Europe people make better citizens than those from the South of Europe. The better class go to the country and the worst to the cities. Greeks are considered about the least desirable of all; the Italians from the Southern portion of the peninsula also make poor citizens; but those from the Northern part of Italy rank with the Swiss and other desirable nationalities."

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TALK ABOUT RACIAL PROFILING. Note that this was written more than 100 years ago by an American. Is there that much of a difference in the thinking of mainstream America today?

I hope so, but I really don't think so. Well, a New Year is around the corner. I don't know if it's that different than 1910 though.

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HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!

DID THE GREEKS DISCOVER EVERYTHING?

I have a Greek friend who I have known for the better part of 50 years. We grew up in Brooklyn, New York. I have always had the greatest respect for Gregory as he is very well educated has held CEO positions all over the world for an international advertising agency and knows many things, so when he says something I tend to listen, absorb and believe what he tells me.

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One day he told me that Christopher Columbus was Greek. Another time he told me that the Greeks invented the Hula Hoop. Well, he is also a great kidder and a bit of a practical joker, so knowing that, I told him he was full of s**t. He said that he was not pulling my leg and there is overwhelming evidence which proves what he is saying. He sent me an article written by a Greek author and scholar who makes a very strong case indeed showing that Columbus was actually a Greek Noble and experienced sea Captain. He also sent me evidence that what is called the Hula Hoop was originally used by ancient Greek athletes over 2,000 years ago and sent me a photo of an ancient painted Greek vase showing exactly that.

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Well I guess Gregory knew what he was talking about. Then I saw an article about a discovery of an ancient Greek ship which sunk off the coast of Tuscany about 2,000 years ago. It contained cargo from various ports along the Mediterranean Sea consisting of huge amphoras of flavored olive oil from Greece, wine from various parts of Italy and other goods which were obviously being delivered to merchants and to be sold. In the debris field of the excavation there was what can only be called a Medical Doctor's bag. It contained ancient medical instruments and amazingly, what appeared to be prescription drugs. Pills. They were dry because they were in the medical bag which was waterproof. DNA examination shows that they are, in fact, combinations of vegetables and herbs compressed into pills. These were described by ancient Greek doctors in medical manuals but there was never any evidence they existed until now. Each pill contained, among other things, carrots, cauliflower and yarrow. Now it appears that the Greeks also discovered and manufactured prescription drugs and were the forerunners of modern medicine.

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Gregory probably knew this but didn't tell me as he thought it might be overkill and he is very considerate. I always thought the Romans were great but it appears they took everything from the Greeks. The Romans were probably originally Greek.

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Oh well, I guess I'll have to listen to more of Greg's braggadocio and I guess it will never end. He's probably right, and I love him as my friend, so I will have to put up with it.

I hope I can find something soon that the Italians did, though. It's bad enough I have to accept the facts that the anciient Greeks were the fathers of Democracy and modern theater also.

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I've recently started to do a little genealogical research of my paternal ancestry and traced my great grandparents to the island of Ischia off the coast of Naples. In researching what appears to be my ancestral homeland I have now discovered that Ischia was originally settled by the ancient Greeks. Everywhere I look I see Greeks and more Greeks. Maybe I'm not Italian. Maybe, if I keep tracing my ancestry back far enough I'll find out I'm Greek and if that's the case I will have to buy some goats and some Olive trees and retire. Maybe the greatest composer of opera, Giuseppe Verdi, was a Greek but didn't know it. Maybe we have to add opera to the list of Greek accomplishments.

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Could it be that what Gregory tells me is true? Did the Greeks discover everything??

Maybe the next time Gregory tells me something I should believe him as preposterous as it may sound. And to think I always thought he was just some chubby little kid from Brooklyn.

Go figure.

BUT IT HAD TO BE DONE

69 years ago today, the United States was attacked by Japan at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. Then President, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, declared it "A day that will live in infamy". At that moment, we declared war on Japan and shortly thereafter Germany and Italy declared war on the United States bringing America fully into World War II. From that point forward, we had to defend ourselves in the Atlantic and Pacific theaters of war. We were still in the "great depression" and unemployment was still very high. Many of our young men immediately joined the armed forces and went to war. Many died and many were severely wounded both physically and mentally, but it had to be done. Before the war was over millions of people all over the world, mostly civilians, were dead or permanently disabled , but it had to be done. Little babies were killed and maimed for the rest of their lives, but it had to be done. Great cities that had stood for thousands of years were leveled, but it had to be done.

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Was there a reason Germany attacked all its neighbors? Probably not., Was there a reason Italy attacked all its neighbors? Probably not. Was there a reason Japan attacked all its neighbors? Probably not. Is there ever a reason for countries to attack each other? No. Yet it goes on and on to this day all over the world.

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Great peacemakers and philosophers have risen and died over the millennia sharing their wisdom with us of life, love and peace. We revere them. We worship them. We pray to them. Yet how do we show them our respect. We kill each other in their name throughout time. We love you Jesus, so we have to kill the non-Christians. We love you Muhammad so we have to kill the infidels. We love you God, so we have to kill our children. We say "but it had to be done". Maybe we are destined to be forever killing each other. It seems to be the case. It has to be done.

I hope not.

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Maybe we will all join hands around the world some day and feel love, not hate. If we are to survive as a people, IT HAS TO BE DONE. We are approaching holiday seasons where we preach love, peace and hope for the future. I wish these feelings would never end. But I'm afraid there are too many two-bit narcissistic dictators around the world ready to drop a bomb on someone for no reason. I'm afraid there is not enough love in the world to prevent it. I hope I'm wrong.

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MERRY CHRISTMAS!! PEACE ON EARTH AND GOOD WILL TO MANKIND!!

DANCE OF THE SPIRITS

The Cree Nation called them the Dance of the Spirits. We call them the Northern Lights. The scientific name is Aurora Borealis. I prefer the Cree name as to me it is more descriptive. Of course, if you know Latin and Greek, you know that Aurora is the Roman goddess of dawn and Boreas is the Greek name for the north wind. Aurora's are usually seen around the time of the Equinox and almost always at night and always in the Northern Latitudes.

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I was in the U.S. Army Reserve on maneuvers in Fort Drum which is located in North Central New York State close to the Southern Border of Canada. I awoke at approximately 3AM for some reason and stepped out of my tent. It was the last week of September and you could feel the snap of fall in the air. I could not believe my eyes. The night sky was ablaze with swirling greenish white with glints of red and blue in swirling undulations. A sight I had never seen before or since except in pictures. It was amazing and spectacular and easy to understand why ancient people felt they were coming from the Gods.

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If you've experienced the sight you know how it feels. If you haven't you should. It's a very humbling experience which will remain with you your entire life. I can bore you with the scientific causes of the Aurora, but it wouldn't be important. It's much better to believe the Cree name because they believed in the spirits of the earth they lived on and valued the land. They respected the animals and all life. It is a philosophy I wholly embrace and it's a damn shame that all people are not like the Native Americans. Maybe then there would be a future for the earth and all it's inhabitants.

YOU"RE NOT GETTING MY PASSWORD

" Hi Frank, I have to take you're vital signs and I need some information from your insurance".
I asked "Who are you and where am I" The doctor said "You're in the Northern Westchester hospital. I'm you're surgeon. You've just had a serious operation but you're going to be fine. As you are just coming out of the anesthesia things probably are hazy but you'll be fine after I give you a rubdown and a sponge bath."

Things were spinning around in my head so I just tried to relax and try to figure out what happened to me. Maybe after the rubdown and sponge bath I'll wake up a little and figure out what happened. After a while I was feeling a little better and a nurse told me that I had a kidney removed and I would be in pain for a while, but they will give me some morphine if it gets too bad. In the meantime we are going to need a little more financial information. We will need your insurance card, a copy of your bank card and the password to your account. You will have to sign some papers also, but as you will be with us for a while we can do that later. Now you should rest.

I opened my eyes a little more and started looking around. There were a few nurses and doctors around, but it looked like I was in my bedroom. Very weird. It was as if my bedroom was arranged and furnished like a hospital room and I was home. It made no sense but I attributed it to the emergence from the anesthesia and put these weird thoughts out of my mind. Then I dozed off. I was awakened after a while by a nurse who told me I could have a little food and she would have an aide bring me a tray of food, but while we were waiting she needed my passwords to my bank accounts to enter in the hospital records. I didn't understand. Why would they need that information. No one had that information and I would never give it out. I knew better. I started to get suspicious and angry.

I then realized I actually was at home and it was made up to look like a hospital. I started to yell at the nurse and told her I knew what was going on and this was a ruse to get at my money. I was going to call the police. I was told to calm down or I would have to be restrained by "security". I became more angry and threw the food tray to the floor. Then I heard "We better call security and have him restrained".

A few minutes later two big guys came over and told me I would have to calm down and be nice or I would have to be put in restraints. I started to become angry and yelled at the alleged security guys, " I know what's going on, I've been drugged and you're trying to trick me into giving access to my bank accounts" They attempted to put leather restraints around my chest and then tie my arms to the bed. I fought them but was eventually trussed up and couldn't move. After a while, I started to feel like I was in a dream and then slowly coming out of a horrible nightmare. It wasn't a dream though. Everything was real.

It turns out I WAS in a hospital. I did have a kidney removed in order to save my life because the kidney had a spot of cancer on it which fortunately hadn't spread. The problem was I had a reaction to morphine which, as it turned out, caused me to hallucinate and I really believed that all these things were happening. After the effects of the morphine wore off I was back to normal but very embarrassed by the way I treated the hospital staff and the weird stories I told to friends who came to see me. Boy, did I have a lot of apologizing to do. I really had my own conspiracy theory. I was really whacked out.

So that's what happened to me one time in the hospital. Very funny now but not then. At least I found out I was allergic to morphine. I guess that was the moral of the story.

NO, THAT WAS NOT MY SURGEON IN THE ILLUSTRATION. I CAN DREAM THOUGH.

LOST IN TRANSLATION

We used to vacation in Montreal fairly often. We loved to walk around in this beautiful city exploring the different restaurants as we loved to try something new each night for dinner. Montreal is a French speaking city in the Canadian province of Quebec. They are extremely nationalistic as is evidenced by their laws regarding signs in public places. All signs must be in French with smaller English translations below as, after all, Canada is an English speaking country. Quebec is, however, a French speaking province. These laws are strongly enforced by language police who roam the streets and fine stores who do not comply. This is serious stuff with heavy fines, believe it or not.

Our hotel was on Rue Sherbrooke, which is a major thoroughfare of Montreal with many fine hotels, the Museum of Fine Arts and McGill University among the more important landmarks. We heard of a French Restaurant which was recommended by a friend of ours who lived in a neighboring town where we lived in New York. The restaurant was on a street off Sherbrooke so we decided one evening to make a reservation and have dinner there. We drove to the restaurant and eventually found it. There was a parking lot adjacent to the restaurant but as it was an Avis lot I was afraid to park there and get a ticket or worse, towed away. So we drove around and found the closest street parking and walked to the restaurant. For the life of me I can't remember the name of the restaurant or the street it was on, but we went there often.

It was a delightful restaurant with a great French kitchen. The dinners were always a highlight of our trips. After a while, I somehow found out that the Avis parking lot was the parking lot of the restaurant. It seems that the word AVIS, pronounced "ahvee" is the French word for "notice" and the sign advised people that this lot was only for patrons of the restaurant and adjoining patisserie. Anyone not customers would be towed away. It took awhile, but we finally started to park there for dinner. There was no English translation as the sign didn't have enough room or the owners felt as it was frequented by locals who all spoke French, it wasn't necessary.
The patisserie, which was a part of the restaurant was great also. They had all kinds of delicacies which we would stock up on and snack on in our room.

We also would go to old Montreal, the original town with buildings dating back to the 17th century, many of which were historical and archaeological museums. There were wonderful open air markets and little alleys with stores in old buildings off the alleys. There were artists showing their paintings in the street and along the riverfront and many street performers. Acrobats, mimes, etc. Great stuff. We were getting a little hungry one day in vieux Montreal so we decided to go in to a little patisserie and have a bite. In this section of town no one spoke any English except the Asian and Indian shop owners. Ironic. Well, we had been out all day and I had to use the bathroom, so I asked the waitress where the men's room was and she stared at me trying to understand. I really had to go and was getting desperate. I started using words like bathroom, men's room, ladies room, washroom, toilet. The light dawned when I said "toilet". She said "Ah, toillette" and pointed to the wall behind where I was sitting. There was a tiny latch ring on the wall and when you stuck your finger in it and pulled it was a door to the "toilette".The wallpaper cleverly covered the door so you didn't even know it was there. If I didn't think it was impolite to say toilet, I wouldn't have had to wait so long to use it. Just in time for both of us.

The next day i took the dog for a walk and he peed on the McGill University campus. That was the highlight of the trip. There was probably a sign in French saying "do not walk your dog" or "no peeing on the grass" and I didn't know what it meant. Tough s**t. My dog certainly didn't speak French.

P. S. Read the English translation on the sign and please explain what it says in the comments.

Bon nuit, mes amis. English translation. You figure it out.