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The Garlic in the Melting Pot

by Lewis M. Elia

163 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-0149; ISBN 1-55369-336-1; US$19.50, C$22.00, EUR16.00, £11.50

From the streets of Brooklyn and the horse trails of Saratoga Springs, Lew tells of the life he led as an Italian-American, becoming more aware of how his ethnic group with its values of family and hard work, made him into the successful man he became.

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about the book      about the author      sample excerpt      catalogue info

About the Book From the streets of Brooklyn and the horse trails of Saratoga Springs, Lew tells of the life he led as an Italian-American, becoming more aware of how his ethnic group with its values of family and hard work, made him into the successful man he became. Most autobiographies seek to find the meaning of one life as it passes through time, touched by the past, making sense of where this life began as it moves towards its destiny. Lew Elia's story has much more depth. Lew narrates his story to study how he and his ancestors became part of the fabric of American life. Lew Elia's story was to be a narrative for his children only; we should be very thankful that he shared his tale with all of us so that we, too could study the impact that Italian immigrants made on America's development. They put much more than the garlic in the melting pot.

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About the Author Author Lew Elia was born on Saratoga Springs, west side in 1935. With the exception of living in Brooklyn, NY during the years of World War II, he spent most of his early life in Saratoga Springs and now resides in Niskayuna, NY with his wife, Linda. The Garlic In The Melting Pot is currently advertised on-line at www.italianamericanpress.com. The Italian-American Press promotes Italian-American and other Self-Published Authors, providing them with resources andÊsupport. They also have available inexpensive used books on Writing and other instructional subjects as well as a fine selection of Collectible Sheet Music from the 1890s to the 20th century. This collection includes a number of memorable Italian songs.

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Sample Excerpt

THE DAILY DOUBLE

It has been said superstition begins to disappear as people get more educated. I believe it just changes form. The kind of superstition my grandparents brought from Europe was simply different from the kind which subsequent generations practiced. No matter how much education people acquire, many still seem to succumb to it. Many athletes who receive the benefit of a higher education will consider it bad luck to change a jersey or a sock because it will somehow jinx their performance. My Mother and her first cousin, Catherine (Scarano) Infanti, were brought up as first generation Italian-Americans and still gave in to some superstitions, although not the same ones held by the older people. The witch as an evil person whose existence persisted in European rural areas and who came over on the boat with the immigrants was gone but some interesting notions replaced her.

Catherine was my Grandfather Antonio Scarano's niece, born in Italy but came to America at the age of five. Since Catherine was my Mother's age I was instructed to refer to her as "Aunt" Catherine (a traditional form of address to an older cousin in an Italian family.) She was my great Uncle Frank's daughter by his first marriage. I never knew her mother, Rosa who died before I was born. Because of Uncle Frank's success as a produce manager with the A&P company, Aunt Catherine was able to finish high school and go to college, a remarkable achievement for any woman in those days, especially the daughter of an immigrant. Women were never encouraged to go to high school. I don't know what prompted Uncle Frank to let Catherine finish high school and go to college, but he did, a very unusual attitude for the period. Aunt Catherine went to City College of New York and became a teacher. By the time I started to become aware of things, she was a teacher at a public elementary school on Baxter Street in lower Manhattan and had been for many years.

Aunt Catherine was the first educated person in our family and was a great influence in all our lives. I spent a great deal of time with her since, being a teacher with the summer off, she would come to Saratoga and stay with us every year. She was, of course, committed to education and was always encouraging me to better myself. For all her education, Aunt Catherine still clung to the remnants of Italian superstition. This was evident when she spent the summer with Mom and they decided to handicap the horses at the flat track one August.

My Mother and Aunt Catherine were never what anyone would call real gamblers, but they used to like to play the daily double on occasion. There was always some friend going to the track on any given day who would take their two dollars and play the double for them. They were not going to go broke putting up a dollar apiece to bet the daily double once or twice a week. The fascinating thing about their brand of gambling was the way they chose horses.

"What horses did you two play today?" I asked as I walked through the door.

"Two and nine," mom said. "How did you pick these horses?" I asked. Aunt Catherine answered.

"The horse in the first race has an owner named Rose. Rose was my mother's name."

"And the other?" I said. Mom took that one.

"I dreamt Uncle Jimmy came and stayed in a motel. I went to visit him and he was in room four."

"If he was in room four, why did you play the nine horse?" I asked.

"Because when he opened the door, he had a five dollar bill stuck in his shirt pocket," she reported. "I added the five to the room number and got the nine horse."

I remembered my Uncle Jimmy Menento, who had died some years earlier, was in the habit of carrying bills in his shirt pocket, something he probably picked up from the days he worked in a New York City parking garage. Therefore, I was not too surprised Mom would see a bill in his pocket when he appeared in her dream. I smiled at them, not wanting to insult their handicapping system. They seemed to be having a lot of fun with this, but I found out how serious it was when I said it was a funny way to pick horses. Aunt Catherine was a well educated woman, a school teacher and relied on polite logic, telling me their system had as much of a chance of producing a winner as any other. Mom was a little more direct, telling me if Uncle Jimmy came to her in a dream, he didn't make the trip for nothing and I didn't know what I was talking about.

"But how do you know you are supposed to add the five to the room number?" I persisted.

"Shutup, I just know!" she said.

What really shut me up was when the horses won and the two nine double paid $84. When the friend brought the money home, one would think they had won eight thousand.

That in itself was a good story, but it actually gets better. The following week they sent in another two dollar bet for a six seven double. I was almost afraid to ask how they came up with these numbers. This time Mom saw the number seventy six in the dream....

(read the rest of the story in the book and find out what happened - I promise you won't be disappointed. LME)

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Catalogue Information

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