"Yeah," I said. "Been years, hasn't it? How's my grandfather doing?"

She lifted up a bulky plastic bag-the head of John the Baptist, except it was rectangular. "He's all yours," she said.

"Is he? And now I suppose you're going to tell me I owe you-"

"No charge beyond what you've paid me already," she said. "And by the way, you have my condolences."

She held Domenico's bulky manuscript in front of her, at arm's length, and let go. It thudded onto my bed, just missing my injured foot.

I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM526 31.The History of Domenico Onofrio Tempesta, a Great Man from Humble Beginnings 8 July 1949 I, Domenico Onofrio Tempesta, was born sixty-nine years ago in the mountain village of Giuliana, Sicily, lu giardino dello mondo! lu giardino dello mondo! I am the descendant of great men and many would say that when I look into the mirror, greatness looks back! Nonetheless, my life has been marred by sadness and tragedy. Now old age afflicts me with aching in my joints and rumbling bowels and weakness in my knees. But my mind remembers! I am the descendant of great men and many would say that when I look into the mirror, greatness looks back! Nonetheless, my life has been marred by sadness and tragedy. Now old age afflicts me with aching in my joints and rumbling bowels and weakness in my knees. But my mind remembers!

My beloved wife, Ignazia, a buon'anima a buon'anima, gave me one daughter but failed to honor me with sons. My daughter, Concettina Ipolita Tempesta, is too homely to marry (harelip) and so she stays home to be an old man's nuisance. From that red-haired girl with the rabbit's face, Tempesta blood spills wasted to the ground, like wine from a cracked jug. The proud name of Tempesta dies when I die.

If God has not blessed me with sons, He has at least given me the gift of keen memory. I tell my life story to keep alive the name Tempesta and to offer myself as a model for Italian youth 526 526 I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM527 527.

to imitate! May the Sons of Mother Italy who read these words learn from them the path to prosperity and may they never be cursed, as I have been, with frightened rabbits underfoot or with skinny, goddamned monkeys!

As a boy, I grew up in the fearful shadow of Mount Etna, the great and terrible vulcano vulcano that brought my grandparents to ruin. Alfio and Maricchia Ciccia, my maternal grandparents, were proud landowners. Their hazelnut and almond groves were destroyed in the year 1865 when lava spewed from the western rim, choking life from the trees that had provided their livelihood. Four days later, the earth itself cracked open, killing my grandfather and his three sons. As Etna's cursed vomit cooled, it armored the Ciccia land with porous black rock. Worthless! My grandmother, crazy with grief, ended her life with poison soon after. that brought my grandparents to ruin. Alfio and Maricchia Ciccia, my maternal grandparents, were proud landowners. Their hazelnut and almond groves were destroyed in the year 1865 when lava spewed from the western rim, choking life from the trees that had provided their livelihood. Four days later, the earth itself cracked open, killing my grandfather and his three sons. As Etna's cursed vomit cooled, it armored the Ciccia land with porous black rock. Worthless! My grandmother, crazy with grief, ended her life with poison soon after.

The only surviving member of the Ciccia family was the youngest child, Concettina. She had been playing alone in a field with her rag dolls when the lava began rushing down the hill after her. Scooping up the dollies in her arms, she ran to a nearby cedar tree to save herself from the vulcano vulcano. As she climbed up amidst the leaves and branches, she dropped one of her little dolls. With foolish bravery, the girl came down again, intent on saving her little friend made of rag and sawdust, but as she reached into that hateful hot stew from hell to rescue the popa popa, little Concettina burned the skin of her right hand severely, dropping once again the foolish doll, which sank back into the lava and was carried away.

Somehow, Concettina held on and managed to elbow and claw and climb the tree again. From the highest branches, she screamed and screamed until it was safe to descend. For the rest of her life, Concettina wore on her right hand the reminder of her foolish attempt to rescue that worthless toy-a pink, shiny scar like a glove. As a child, I would stare at that scarred hand as I heard, over and over, the story of how little Concettina had saved her life but lost her popi di pezza popi di pezza. That damaged hand, with its more normal I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM528 528.

twin, held and fed and slapped me as I grew. Concettina, a a buon'anima buon'anima, was my beloved mother.

Orphaned at the age of eight after her own mother's self-poisoning, Mama was given to an old widow, a seamstress and lacemaker whose duty it was to dress the altar and the statuary at the little village church, including the famous Statue of the Weeping Vergine Vergine, famous throughout all of Sicily. The old woman taught my mother her painstaking craft and Mama herself became a skilled lacemaker. Sadly, as she grew to womanhood, she was often seized with screaming fits and strange dreams. She claimed, as well, that she could hear the voices of moths-those fluttering creatures which, she believed, were the souls of the dead who had failed to attain heavenly light. Instead, they swarmed around the counterfeit light of earthly things. The moths spoke to her- pleaded pleaded with her-Mama insisted, so endlessly that she sometimes had to lock herself in her room with the window bolted and the candles extinguished to be rid of their begging. with her-Mama insisted, so endlessly that she sometimes had to lock herself in her room with the window bolted and the candles extinguished to be rid of their begging.

In 1874, Concettina Ciccia became the wife of my father, Giacomo Tempesta, a sulphur miner. Papa's work took him away each week from Giuliana to the mines, nine or ten kilometers into the foothills of Etna. With his fellow miners, he would travel back each Saturday to the village, where he would bathe and feast, then lie beside his wife on their finely embroidered sheets. It was on such a Saturday night in the year 1879 that my humble father became a hero.

According to the story first whispered by my mother to the village women and then repeated by those loose-tongued crones, Papa was lying awake after sharing a passione passione with his wife that was to result in my fortuitous conception! Etna had been asleep for several years, but that night Papa heard the faint first rumbling and hissing of the awakening with his wife that was to result in my fortuitous conception! Etna had been asleep for several years, but that night Papa heard the faint first rumbling and hissing of the awakening vulcano vulcano. He rose from his bed and ran to the home of the buck-toothed magistrato magistrato, the richest man in Giuliana. There, Papa unfastened the bell from the magistrate's cow and ran through the village, ringing and shouting, awakening I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM529 529.

the citizens of Giuliana so that they could rescue themselves.

Some say my mother, too, saved lives that night. She ran to the nearest tree and screamed like a siren!

For his heroism, my father received a medaglia medaglia from the King of Italy. from the King of Italy.

It arrived by way of the magistrato magistrato's official mail. Even before Papa could hold it in his hands, that goddamned buck-toothed magistrato magistrato bit the medal and determined it was solid gold, marking it forever with the impression of his horse-like teeth. Later, he presented the marred bit the medal and determined it was solid gold, marking it forever with the impression of his horse-like teeth. Later, he presented the marred medaglia medaglia to my father at a formal to my father at a formal ceremonia ceremonia in the village square. At the time of this great honor, I was merely a seed in the melon of my mother's belly, but the village women agreed that the alignment of my conception with Mount Etna's eruption indicated that my destiny was to be a great and powerful man! I was now, in addition, the unborn son of a hero! in the village square. At the time of this great honor, I was merely a seed in the melon of my mother's belly, but the village women agreed that the alignment of my conception with Mount Etna's eruption indicated that my destiny was to be a great and powerful man! I was now, in addition, the unborn son of a hero!

My mother presented her husband with three sons. Sons of Italy, marry wisely! Male heirs are the greatest gifts a woman can bestow!

I, Domenico Onofrio Tempesta, came into this world on 11 May 1880 and my brother Pasquale was born two years later under more ordinary circumstances. My brother Vincenzo was born in 1883.

My father's heroism made him, after the village padre padre and the and the magistrato magistrato, the most respected man in our little village. As a young boy, I remember Papa leading parades and processions at holiday times and presiding with dignity at village festivals. At these times, he would take his medaglia medaglia from its keeping place and wear it proudly against his breast. I remember, too, that medal, with its likeness of the King on horseback and the magistrate's big teeth marks embedded in the horse's golden flank. from its keeping place and wear it proudly against his breast. I remember, too, that medal, with its likeness of the King on horseback and the magistrate's big teeth marks embedded in the horse's golden flank.

When I was six, the Virgin Mary herself confirmed the suspicions of the village women that, amongst the children of Giuliana, I was speciale speciale!

Sent by my mother to deliver a new goose-down pillow to the padre padre, I looked for him inside the small limestone church and then out in the grotto made famous years earlier by the Statue of the I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM530 530.

Weeping Vergine Vergine. It was there that I-Domenico Onofrio Tempesta -witnessed a miracle! After a drought of seventy-seven years, tears were falling once again from the eyes of the statue! Of all the villagers-men, women, and children-it was I to whom the Weeping Vergine Vergine chose to reveal herself! chose to reveal herself!

The statue cried for a week. Its precious tears were collected and applied to the sores of the afflicted, the eyes of the blind, the legs of the lame. The miracle became the subject of many theories about past sin and predictions of coming doom. News of the Weeping Vergine Vergine had kept the village priest at his station by the grotto day and night, saying prayers for the faithful and listening to the emergency confessions of newly repentant had kept the village priest at his station by the grotto day and night, saying prayers for the faithful and listening to the emergency confessions of newly repentant siciliani siciliani! It was only after the statue's eyes had dried and the number of pilgrims had dwindled that the padre padre was able to have a minute's peace and to interpret the meaning of the miracle. The good priest visited our home the following Sunday and told Mama and Papa that my discovery of the Virgin's tears had been a sign from Blessed Mary herself. I had been called to the priesthood, the was able to have a minute's peace and to interpret the meaning of the miracle. The good priest visited our home the following Sunday and told Mama and Papa that my discovery of the Virgin's tears had been a sign from Blessed Mary herself. I had been called to the priesthood, the padre padre said. said.

Believing, as most siciliani siciliani believe, that it is dangerous business for a father to educate his sons beyond himself, my father at first resisted the idea of my priestly studies. Papa had already spoken many times of my eventual work in the sulphur mines, first as his believe, that it is dangerous business for a father to educate his sons beyond himself, my father at first resisted the idea of my priestly studies. Papa had already spoken many times of my eventual work in the sulphur mines, first as his caruso caruso and later as a miner myself. Papa's fellow miners shook their heads and warned him against allowing me to be sent away and taught to read and write. Yet my mother supported the priest's campaign to make me a man of God. Her status in the village had already been elevated because she had given birth to the boy to whom the and later as a miner myself. Papa's fellow miners shook their heads and warned him against allowing me to be sent away and taught to read and write. Yet my mother supported the priest's campaign to make me a man of God. Her status in the village had already been elevated because she had given birth to the boy to whom the Vergine Vergine had revealed her tears. As the mother of a priest, her standing would be raised higher still. had revealed her tears. As the mother of a priest, her standing would be raised higher still.

The padre padre wrote a letter to Rome concerning my religious calling and campaigned amongst the villagers to hand over their coins on behalf of the room, board, and travel expenses that would be required to turn me into a priest. When my father protested, my mother resumed once again her screaming fits on behalf of my I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM531 wrote a letter to Rome concerning my religious calling and campaigned amongst the villagers to hand over their coins on behalf of the room, board, and travel expenses that would be required to turn me into a priest. When my father protested, my mother resumed once again her screaming fits on behalf of my I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM531 531.

education and circulated in the village the news of an ominous dream she had had. In the dream, God Almighty took the form of a black falcon and pecked out the eyes of my father for flouting His will. In the end, Papa surrendered.

And so I was sent on my seventh birthday to the convent school in Nicosia, run by the good Sisters of Humility. There, over a period of six years, I learned first the rudiments and then the subtleties of the Italian language. I learned, too, the hard and bitter lessons of jealousy and snobbery which my fellow students were happy to teach to the school's poorest but most gifted student, Domenico Onofrio Tempesta! The wealthy city boys would laugh at me as I scratched out my lessons on the cheap slate provided me. They, of course, had been handed the best supplies-quill pens, fine paper, and oceans of India ink with which to do their shoddy work! They, of course, had famiglia famiglia who paid the extra for confections on Saturday afternoon and musical shows and other distractions and who paid the extra for confections on Saturday afternoon and musical shows and other distractions and ricreazioni ricreazioni while I had only my considerable native talents with which to entertain myself. But if I was the least well provided for amongst the boys at the convent school, I was the best loved by the good Sisters of Humility, who marveled at my intellectual gifts and only occasionally boxed my ears or yanked my nose for small acts of temper or venial sins of pride-petty transgressions at most. I was, in truth, the sisters' favorite. while I had only my considerable native talents with which to entertain myself. But if I was the least well provided for amongst the boys at the convent school, I was the best loved by the good Sisters of Humility, who marveled at my intellectual gifts and only occasionally boxed my ears or yanked my nose for small acts of temper or venial sins of pride-petty transgressions at most. I was, in truth, the sisters' favorite.

Back at home, my younger brother Pasquale took my place in the mines and became my father's caruso caruso. It was Pasquale's job to carry the excavated rock up from the shaft and the makeshift stairway to the kiln at the mouth of the mines. There, the rock was melted and the essenza di solforoso essenza di solforoso extracted. It is the extracted. It is the caruso caruso's lot in life to do the miner's dirty work-to work like a mule-and for that, my simple brother was well suited, just as I was well suited to the elevated and intellectual life of a boy destined for greater things.

With Papa, Pasquale, and me away from home, my youngest brother, Vincenzo, grew wild. Mama could not make him obey or help her, no matter how many blows she visited on his head or his I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM532 532.

culo with her big wooden cooking spoon. Vincenzo's theft of a lemon cake from the window of old with her big wooden cooking spoon. Vincenzo's theft of a lemon cake from the window of old Signora Signora Migliaccio became a minor village scandal. "My firstborn serves God, my secondborn serves his father, and my youngest serves the devil!" Mama would lament. Migliaccio became a minor village scandal. "My firstborn serves God, my secondborn serves his father, and my youngest serves the devil!" Mama would lament.

When he turned ten, Vincenzo was apprenticed to Uncle Nardo, a gumbare gumbare of Papa's and a fat-bellied pig of a stonemason. May the carcass of that son of a bitch Nardo roast in the fires of Hell forever and ever and longer than that! On weekends, when our family reunited, my brother Pasquale was often bruised and swollen in the face because of accidents at the mine or because of his failings as Papa's of Papa's and a fat-bellied pig of a stonemason. May the carcass of that son of a bitch Nardo roast in the fires of Hell forever and ever and longer than that! On weekends, when our family reunited, my brother Pasquale was often bruised and swollen in the face because of accidents at the mine or because of his failings as Papa's caruso caruso. Papa's stern hand often caught up with young Vincenzo on Sunday mornings after Uncle Nardo visited with his weekly report. Vincenzo was lazy, Nardo complained, and had fallen in with a band of young toughs who laughed and traveled together after work and committed acts of hooliganism. Sometimes my father beat both brothers, one after the other, Vincenzo for what he had done and Pasquale for what he had failed to do. My own behavior was beyond reproach, and I escaped my father's blows and received only his praise. Sons of Italy, take notice! Industry and seriousness of purpose will assure your success. Work hard! Honor famiglia famiglia, and follow the virtuous path!

More tomorrow if these goddamned hemorrhoids will let me sit and tell.

10 July 1949 At the age of sixteen, I was enrolled at the seminary school in Roma Roma where I began my priestly studies. Meanwhile, at home in Giuliana, another scandal erupted that set my mother to screaming and caused my father such shame that he threatened to travel to the where I began my priestly studies. Meanwhile, at home in Giuliana, another scandal erupted that set my mother to screaming and caused my father such shame that he threatened to travel to the Mediterraneo Mediterraneo and throw his gold medallion into the sea as an act of contrition for having sired such a delinquent son as Vincenzo! and throw his gold medallion into the sea as an act of contrition for having sired such a delinquent son as Vincenzo!

That season, Uncle Nardo had been hired by the magistrato magistrato to I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM533 to I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM533 533.

build an elaborate new courtyard and vineyard wall. One hot afternoon in the midst of this project, Nardo fell asleep in a shady spot after his noon meal. Vincenzo, unsupervised, seized his opportunity and scampered away from his afternoon work. The magistrato magistrato, who was entertaining a visiting monsignore monsignore from Calabria, had invited his guest to stroll the grounds of his estate. The two officials heard a strange groaning coming from the arbor and hurried to help whoever was hurt or wounded. from Calabria, had invited his guest to stroll the grounds of his estate. The two officials heard a strange groaning coming from the arbor and hurried to help whoever was hurt or wounded.

Shamefully, the groans had come from Vincenzo. What the magistrato magistrato and the and the monsignore monsignore found that afternoon among the twisting grapevines was my youngest brother, standing with his pants at his ankles and involved in a lewd act with the magistrate's spinster of a daughter who was twice my brother's age! The visiting monsignor nearly fainted from the shocking sight of that lunatic woman's head between my brother's legs. The shouting and screaming emitting from the mouth of the found that afternoon among the twisting grapevines was my youngest brother, standing with his pants at his ankles and involved in a lewd act with the magistrate's spinster of a daughter who was twice my brother's age! The visiting monsignor nearly fainted from the shocking sight of that lunatic woman's head between my brother's legs. The shouting and screaming emitting from the mouth of the magistrato magistrato awoke Uncle Nardo, who came stumbling onto the scene before Vincenzo could even calm himself and button his britches. Nardo was fired on the spot. The awoke Uncle Nardo, who came stumbling onto the scene before Vincenzo could even calm himself and button his britches. Nardo was fired on the spot. The magistrato magistrato banished both the disgraced mason and his lascivious apprentice from his property, uttering the wish that he, the banished both the disgraced mason and his lascivious apprentice from his property, uttering the wish that he, the magistrato magistrato, hoped to drown in the molten spew of Mount Etna before he laid eyes on either of those two again!

Uncle Nardo did not wait until Saturday to give Papa his weekly report about Vincenzo. Instead, he stormed the road that led from the village to the mines and shouted Papa's name into the gorge.

What happened next was told to me by my brother Pasquale, who witnessed the whole thing.

Nardo told my father that he, Giacomo Tempesta, was liable for the sum of money Nardo had lost on the big job at the home of the magistrato magistrato as a result of Vincenzo's shameful behavior. Papa told Uncle Nardo that he could not hand over money he did not have. He promised, instead, that he would beat Vincenzo until the blood flowed and that Vincenzo would repent and reform. He would work so diligently from then on that the unfortunate I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM534 as a result of Vincenzo's shameful behavior. Papa told Uncle Nardo that he could not hand over money he did not have. He promised, instead, that he would beat Vincenzo until the blood flowed and that Vincenzo would repent and reform. He would work so diligently from then on that the unfortunate I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM534 534.

incident would be bricked over by his youngest son's industry.

Uncle Fat-Belly shouted back that he had no use at all for a lazy billygoat with a frozen pipe in his pants. He demanded again the money he had lost. Again, my father assured Nardo that he could not pay such a sum as that to which Nardo laid claim.

"I see that a fancy golden medaglia medaglia cannot by itself make a man honorable," Nardo retorted. Those were his miserable words exactly. My brother Pasquale stood beside Papa and heard the slander himself! cannot by itself make a man honorable," Nardo retorted. Those were his miserable words exactly. My brother Pasquale stood beside Papa and heard the slander himself!

To my father-to any siciliano siciliano! - - an accusation against one's honor is more painful than a blow to those loins that sire sons. Yet what could Papa do-perform an act of magic and make money spill from the sky? Pay off Uncle Nardo with bolts of my mother's lace? an accusation against one's honor is more painful than a blow to those loins that sire sons. Yet what could Papa do-perform an act of magic and make money spill from the sky? Pay off Uncle Nardo with bolts of my mother's lace?

That weekend, Papa went to the home of the magistrato magistrato with a jug of his best Malaga and his precious golden with a jug of his best Malaga and his precious golden medaglia medaglia. Signore Signore Big Shot had already sunk his buck teeth once into my father's Big Shot had already sunk his buck teeth once into my father's medaglia medaglia; now Papa was going to allow him to gobble it up. By the time the wine jug was empty, my father's prized possession had been handed over to the magistrato magistrato so that Nardo could be reinstated as the so that Nardo could be reinstated as the magistrato magistrato's mason. But there was a problem, still. Nardo would not take Vincenzo back! The next week, against the howls of my mother and the protests of the village padre padre, I was plucked from my priestly studies and sent back to Giuliana to work alongside Uncle Nardo in the unfinished courtyard. There, reluctantly, I began my apprenticeship under that fat-bellied son of the devil whom I soon grew to despise. I had no choice but to obey and honor the arrangement my father had made.

Young men of Sicily, remember this: a father's command is a son's law!

Over the months that I transformed myself from scholar to laborer in service to my father's honor, my hands coarsened and the muscles in my arms and chest grew strong from heavy lifting. With all my heart, I hated the trade of masonry and ached to be back I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM535 535.

among my books and words and religious icons, but that was not to be. With each stone I hoisted into place, with each tier of brick I laid, I honored my father's good name and good word. And as for the magistrate's filthy daughter, all her flirtations and lewd whisperings to me went unanswered. I upheld the good name of Tempesta and looked at stone and mortar and trowel, not at the hairy privates of that deranged pest of a puttana puttana who kept lifting her skirts to entice me! who kept lifting her skirts to entice me!

12 July 1949 In March of 1898, Mount Etna once again showed Sicily her wrath.

For three days and nights, steam leaked from the cracked southern rim. Next day, quiet as la morte la morte. Day after that, the earth itself trembled and broke the town apart. In the hills, the section of the sulphur mine where my father and brother were working shuddered and collapsed. Pasquale, who was at the kiln when the shaking began, was spared. But Papa and eleven other miners and carusi carusi perished in the mine. perished in the mine.

Papa, Papa, I weep to remember your loving guidance! I curse the cruel earth that swallowed your life too soon!

Can talk no more today.

15 July 1949 As my father's eldest son, I was now the sostegno del famiglia sostegno del famiglia. I took seriously my duties as both the family's main provider and its chief disciplinarian. I did not spare either of my brothers the beatings for which their actions or inactions cried out. With Vincenzo, especially, I was firm. His shameful behavior had cost me my priestly studies and cost the Tempesta family its ownership of I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM536 536.

our father's valuable gold medaglia medaglia. Though the medaglia medaglia had passed from my father to the had passed from my father to the magistrato magistrato, I, Domenico Onofrio Tempesta, was still allowed to wear it at village celebrations and at Easter and vigilia di Natale vigilia di Natale. I sat on the platform with the padre padre and the and the magistrato magistrato during parades with that medallion resting close to my heart-not only as the eldest son of a village hero, but also as the man to whom the Weeping during parades with that medallion resting close to my heart-not only as the eldest son of a village hero, but also as the man to whom the Weeping Vergine Vergine had once shown her tears. It is not exaggeration to say that I was, even as a humble laborer, the most distinguished young man in Giuliana. had once shown her tears. It is not exaggeration to say that I was, even as a humble laborer, the most distinguished young man in Giuliana.

Sadly, as head of my famiglia famiglia, I sometimes was forced to raise a hand to my beloved mother. Mama had adjusted poorly to widowhood and to the reduced income and status my father's death had pressed upon us. Sometimes, crazy with grief, she would awaken screaming in the night or threatening that she would follow her mother's example and take poison rather than live this wretched life of toil and denial with three such terrible sons as Pasquale, Vincenzo, and me. She resumed her conversations with the moths.

They comforted her, she said, and brought her news about her departed husband. Although I forbade these crazy, one-sided conversations of hers, she sometimes disobeyed me. The blows it was my sad duty to deliver for this and other reasons sometimes quieted Mama's screaming fits and sometimes began them.

In all things I learn quickly, and so my talents for masonry soon matched my talents for language and holy study. Within a matter of months, I had far surpassed that idiot Nardo in both artistry and industry and he knew it and was jealous. It is fair to say that I, Domenico Tempesta, carried most of Nardo's business on my strong and capable back. When I made that simple observation one afternoon as we worked side by side, Uncle Pig-Face laughed and cursed me and spat on my boot.

I reminded him that, in addition to being a superior mason, I was also the son of a hero and, unlike Nardo himself, an educated man. I demanded an apology.

Fat-Face laughed and let fly, instead, sputa sputa from his mouth that I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM537 from his mouth that I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM537 537.

landed on my other boot. My honor thus insulted, I was forced to spit into his faccia di porco faccia di porco. He spat back into my faccia. faccia. Fisticuffs followed and I delivered to Uncle Nardo the worst end of Fisticuffs followed and I delivered to Uncle Nardo the worst end of that that bargain-a blackened eye and a nose that spouted blood like the Fountain of Trevi! Ha! I would have given him even worse, too, if he had not reached for his trowel and sunk it into the back of my left hand. I wear the small scar to this day-the mark of that son of a bitch of a stonemason who was so threatened by my natural superiority that he sought my ruin. bargain-a blackened eye and a nose that spouted blood like the Fountain of Trevi! Ha! I would have given him even worse, too, if he had not reached for his trowel and sunk it into the back of my left hand. I wear the small scar to this day-the mark of that son of a bitch of a stonemason who was so threatened by my natural superiority that he sought my ruin.

After that day, Nardo and I became bitter enemies and rivals.

Giuliana offered little enough work for a mason and that goddamned Pig-Face spread slander about me and my craftsmanship. For the next two years, I watched work that should have been mine go, instead, to Nardo. To hell with those idiots who believed an old man's lies! That's what I say! They deserved the shoddy craftsmanship and heaving walls they no doubt received from that son of a bitch!

Sons of Italy, it was at this time that I conceived my plan to seek my fortuna fortuna in America! More tomorrow. That rabbit-faced daughter of mine calls me to eat my lunch and I have to stop just to shut up her voice. in America! More tomorrow. That rabbit-faced daughter of mine calls me to eat my lunch and I have to stop just to shut up her voice.

16 July 1949 I had read much about la la ' ' Merica Merica-anything I could get my hands on, though in Giuliana, printed matter was rare and precious. America seemed a fitting place for me. I was, after all, the descendant of landowners. In that big country, I read, land went crying for ownership. America was the place for Great Men! In a land far away from earthquakes and slanderous old masons, I would fulfill my destiny!

We had famiglia famiglia there already. Papa's cousins, Vitaglio and Lena Buonano, had made the trip three years earlier and were rich I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM538 there already. Papa's cousins, Vitaglio and Lena Buonano, had made the trip three years earlier and were rich I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM538 538.

already. My two brothers also wished to seek their destiny in the New World and to escape Mama's crazy screaming, which grew worse and worse. I therefore agreed to carry the burden of the firstborn son across the sea and allow my brothers to accompany me. In July 1901, Domenico, Pasquale, and Vincenzo Tempesta signed on as steerage passengers aboard the SS Napolitano Napolitano.

Our dear Mama opposed our adventure, fearing that our departure would make of her a destitute beggarwoman. She conjured pitiable pictures of herself, an old white-haired hag, forced until her dying days to survive on crusts of bread and rinds of cheese-left with only the moths to talk to. God would damn me, she warned, for forsaking my own mother. What would I have her do once we were gone? Roast rats for meat while her wicked sons bathed in honey and milk and counted their gold?

Despite Mama's protests, Pasquale, Vincenzo, and I sailed from Catania on the morning of 11 September 1901. Mama carried her objections all the way to the wagon that would transport us and our belongings from the village square to the seaport where the SS Napolitano was moored. As that rickety wagon rolled away, I looked back to see Mama raise her hands-one good, one scarred-and shout to God above, and to the sea on which we would travel, and to was moored. As that rickety wagon rolled away, I looked back to see Mama raise her hands-one good, one scarred-and shout to God above, and to the sea on which we would travel, and to Italia Italia itself that every mother's son should shrivel in the womb rather than grow and thrive only to rip out the heart of the woman who had borne him. "I bleed from the knife my sons have stuck in me!" Mama shrieked, over and over again, as the wagon pulled away. Her bloodcurdling chant carried above the sound of horses' itself that every mother's son should shrivel in the womb rather than grow and thrive only to rip out the heart of the woman who had borne him. "I bleed from the knife my sons have stuck in me!" Mama shrieked, over and over again, as the wagon pulled away. Her bloodcurdling chant carried above the sound of horses'

hooves and the wagon's squeaky wheels. "I bleed! I bleed!"

That was the last I ever saw of my mother. Later, she married Uncle Pig-Face just to spite me-took to her bed the man who had made it necessary for my father to surrender his gold medaglia medaglia to that greedy, buck-toothed to that greedy, buck-toothed magistrato, magistrato, the man who had spit on my boots and ruined me with his lies. Until Mama's marriage to Nardo, I had dutifully sent her pretty postcards and, at Christmastime, gifts I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM539 the man who had spit on my boots and ruined me with his lies. Until Mama's marriage to Nardo, I had dutifully sent her pretty postcards and, at Christmastime, gifts I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM539 539.

of money and sweets. These were never acknowledged. Ha, never returned either! After that marriage, however, I stopped wasting my money. She died in 1913, but left me the legacy of her screaming, which I still hear in my memory. "I bleed! I bleed! I bleed!" Sitting in this room, talking into this goddamned machine, I hear her still!

Mama, what would you have had me do? Stay, and be supported by an old woman's lacemaking? Stay, and be starved out of work by the slanderer who polluted my father's bed? It was you, not I, who brought dishonor to the name of Giacomo Tempesta. It was you you!

17 July 1949 Ours was a terrible twenty-four-day journey to la 'Merica la 'Merica, made unbearable by spoiled food, tainted water, and rolling seas. A broken propeller delayed us off the coast of Portugal for three extra days and nights of hell. Worst of all was the darkness and stink of life below, inside the belly of the big ship. Where there is sun and fresh air, there is hope, but here the sun did not shine and the air we breathed was stale and fetid. Aboveboard, bands played and the filthy rich dined off china and drank from fancy glasses. We in steerage lived like rats. Women and children sobbed, men fought each other over trifles, and everyone suffered the stench of vomit and excrement. There was a stabbing en route, and the birth of a baby, and the death of the child's mother two days later. That crying bambino bambino was passed from breast to breast after that, and we prayed for its fate. All our fates. That baby cried for us all! was passed from breast to breast after that, and we prayed for its fate. All our fates. That baby cried for us all!

There were rats, too, plenty of them; nighttime was when those goddamned creatures prowled. One night I woke to find one sitting on my neck, sniffing at my mustache. I screamed out, waking even my brother Pasquale, who always slept like a dead man. After that night, I took no chances, napping as best I could while sitting or leaning against beams and walls. Day and night fell together on I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM540 540.

that hellish journey across the sea, and my mind existed in a place between sleep and vigilance.

During the voyage, my brother Vincenzo was as shamefully behaved as always-pinching women's behinds, boasting about his mischief, cheating at cards against men with bad and worsening tempers. Vincenzo was forever wandering away from Pasquale and me and getting himself in trouble, then calling for me to settle some dispute he had provoked. It is the firstborn's burden to unravel the knots that younger brothers make.

Throughout that endless and terrible journey across the ocean, I was afflicted with lice and worry-scratching and haunting myself with the cold fear of what would come to pass once we landed in this place I had risked everything to reach. For a Sicilian, home is everything. How could I have done this? Had I been bewitched into thinking that the unknown would be preferable to putting up with the petty nuisances of a stonemason who would die off in time anyway? The rumbling every few years of a distant vulcano vulcano? As much as I hated Etna for the damage it had visited upon my famiglia famiglia, the lives it had claimed, at least it was an enemy I could watch. What enemies awaited me in this Mundo Novu Mundo Novu toward which we sailed? toward which we sailed?

My heart was sick from thinking and worrying and pinching those goddamned lice between my fingernails!

The little rest I stole came to me in short, interrupted naps made terrible with nightmares. In my dreams, I saw flowing lava, cracking earth, screaming women stuck in fiery trees. Somewhere in the middle of one of those desperate nights, I promised myself that I would never again put myself through such a hellish journey-that I would never return home. That night I said farewell to Sicily forever. Whatever la 'Merica la 'Merica held in store for me, it was where I would stay for the rest of my days. The vow was small comfort, but comfort nonetheless. held in store for me, it was where I would stay for the rest of my days. The vow was small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

Sometimes as the other steerage travelers slept, I crept amongst them and over them and did what was forbidden: climbed the narrow stairs to the ship's deck where the wealthier travelers I Know[526-565] 8/19/02 11:34 AM541 541.

strolled and where I might take into my lungs the clean salt air or watch the moon's rippling reflection against that endless sea. In the school run by the good Sisters of Humility, I had envied the rich boys their supplies of India ink. Now, here in the moonlight, was an ocean full of it through which we traveled-enough inchiostro inchiostro di china di china in which to drown the whole world, let alone Domenico Tempesta. But I would not give those haughty boys at the convent school the satisfaction of dying! I was not weak. I had been the best of them-the student most loved by the good sisters-and I would prevail! in which to drown the whole world, let alone Domenico Tempesta. But I would not give those haughty boys at the convent school the satisfaction of dying! I was not weak. I had been the best of them-the student most loved by the good sisters-and I would prevail!

On one such night of watching the endless ocean, the moon shone brighter than usual, illuminating a small school of dolphins that jumped and swam alongside the SS Napolitano Napolitano. I have always been a modern man who leaves superstition to ignorant old women, but the sight of those delfini delfini that night-their bodies arcing toward the sky, their taut skin glistening in the moonlight-it seemed to me a powerful omen. That night, I stood smiling through my tears and was comforted. I knelt on the ship's deck to pray and, in that position, fell into the only sweet, deep sleep I enjoyed during that long and horrible journey. that night-their bodies arcing toward the sky, their taut skin glistening in the moonlight-it seemed to me a powerful omen. That night, I stood smiling through my tears and was comforted. I knelt on the ship's deck to pray and, in that position, fell into the only sweet, deep sleep I enjoyed during that long and horrible journey.

I awakened next morning to the blinding sun, a mocking voice, and a kick in the ribs! When I squinted and looked up, I was peering into the arrogant face of a ship's waiter. Nearby, a well-dressed couple stood staring at me with looks of disdain. "Get back down where you belong," the haughty waiter ordered-commanding me, the son of a hero! The grandson of landowners!

A man who had once been singled out by the Blessed Virgin herself!

The rich woman shook her head and chattered like a squirrel.

"Poveri si, sporchi no, " " she told the rich man.* she told the rich man.*

Still half-asleep, I rose and stumbled toward the ship's hold, and the waiter and the well-dressed couple moved on. My dignity returned along with my consciousness. Boldly, I turned back, shouting to the three of them, "Il mondo e fatto a scale, chi le scende e chi I Know[526-565] 8/19/02 11:34 AM542 I Know[526-565] 8/19/02 11:34 AM542 542.

le sale! "* "*

One day, I vowed, I would have power and money enough to spit in the faces of those who had humiliated me! In America, my destiny would be realized and I would be avenged!

I Know[526-565] 7/24/02 2:08 PM543 32.Rain drummed against the car roof. From the east, a flash of light, a low rumble. Thunder? In February?

Exit 4: Division Street and Downtown.

Should have canceled, I thought. Those stairs at Dr. Patel's were going to be a bitch to climb on crutches. Why was I even doing doing this? this?

Because you're looking for help, I reminded myself. For answers.

I reached over and punched the radio buttons, trying to get some news. Now that Saddam had set all the oil wells on fire, there was talk that the CIA, or the Israelis, or someone in his own ranks was going to whack the bastard.

"- held in Washington this morning, Joint Chiefs of Staff Chairman held in Washington this morning, Joint Chiefs of Staff Chairman Colin Powell stated that, although allied combat operations have dramatically exceeded expectations, a ground campaign will most likely be Colin Powell stated that, although allied combat operations have dramatically exceeded expectations, a ground campaign will most likely be necessary to ensure total victory against Iraqi aggression. necessary to ensure total victory against Iraqi aggression. " "

You hear that, Papa? Not just meeting meeting our expectations; our expectations; exceeding exceeding them. Money and power, man, just like you said. Might still makes right. God bless America. them. Money and power, man, just like you said. Might still makes right. God bless America.

543.