As my husband's people are from Calabria, I feel a bit of pride in this piece. Actually, I just thought it was fun. Growing up in a predominantly first-generation Italian-American neighborhood, the "family" was never too far off from our consciousness, even as chidren. So many of the stereotypes rang (and ring) true - the girls I grew up with were the most glamorous creatures I'd ever laid eyes on. They all were the first to wear makeup, high-heeled Candie's mules, tight Gloria Vanderbilt jeans, oh, I could go on and on. On a steady diet of pasta, they had enviably flawless figures. They had fabulous names like Maria, Valentina, Isabella, Carmen, Lucia, Susannah, Georgina. My vanilla playmates and I were ALL named Jennifer or Elizabeth. Anyway....
Here's to Vinny The Smart. Not so great about the murder part, but glad to see he's invested in his child's future. I wonder if they allow him to make "gravy" behind bars, using a razor blade to slice the garlic. You know exactly what I mean.
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