June 2011
THE MAFIA STORY
30/06/11 18:31
Last night Valerie and I were reading how Sicily is the home of the mafia and in 2011, it is still alive and well here. Believe it or not, they served a worthwhile purpose once upon a time. Sicily is an island south of Italy that was, at different times of its existence, invaded by the italians, the Greeks, the Austrians, the Spanish and the Arabs. Each culture has left it's mark on the Sicilians which makes for interesting foods, language and architecture. But as you can imagine, the Sicilians got sick and tired of being bullied by whoever came through their island. Hence, the beginnings of the Mafia. The locals appreciated having someone to turn to when they were disrespected, cheated or somehow displaced because of the whims of an occupying country.
Of course, as the years passed, the mafia became more thuggish and less Robin Hood. It's a common problem throughout the ages. The hero gets drunk on power and in a matter of time, the good becomes bad.
This story hit home to Valerie and I as we packed up our rented car for a day trip to the ruins of Selunente, a once amazing city built by the Greeks, to show their power in the world, and of course, on the beautiful island of Sicily. We were traveling the tiny streets of Marsala, in the west of Sicily when we noticed we should stop for fuel. We pulled over and a man filled our tank with the precious petrol and then sent a woman to take our credit card. After we had finished paying, the nice lady who was very interested in how how many months pregnant Valerie was, bid us a good day and we were off. Within 15 seconds of leaving the station, I noticed a small car pulled over to the side of the road, like many other cars. But this particular car had the motor running and had a driver, a woman and two kids in the car. Knowing this, I was extra careful to put on the brakes should the driver unwittingly pull into moving traffic. Instead, as I drove by, I saw him reach out his window, and as our car drove past, with all his might he smashed the passenger side mirror of my car. Then he pulled onto the street, got behind me, and begin honking, demanding that I pull over. I was shocked and worried. What the hell just happened and what was I prepared to do about it? The immature me wanted to pull over and fight over the fact he just cost me some money with the rental company to replace that damned mirror. The foreigner part of me felt like a fish out of water and vulnerable. But I looked over at my wife and she's six months pregnant and I don't want to do anything to put her or our unborn child in harms way. I started to think of the mafia and how they have small rings of organized crime and wondered if I had somehow got intwined in the whole thing. I wondered if I was about to get set up in a gang event. He'd get me over to the side of the road, his buddies would come out of nowhere and demand what they wanted. I would be in no shape to negotiate because my wife is right there with her tummy poking out at six months pregnant. As I drove on the tiny streets of Sicily with a raging lunatic behind me waving and honking and trying to overtake me, I tried to remain as calm as I could but determined to not let him overtake me or get beside my car where I would be more vulnerable. Every time he'd try to overtake me, I would take up that side of the road, or use an oncoming car as a blocker to his maneuver. He got so close to my bumper that I was sure he would hit it but this never was the case. As I was desperate to understand the situation, I looked to see how his wife was taking all this. I noticed that his wife with two kids was not emotional in any way. If I was driving like that, my wife would be furious and would tell me to a get a grip and grow up. She would proceed to read me the riot act for putting her and the kids in jeopardy. As I noticed she was calm, I was quite sure this was a set up and I was also convinced that I would not be a part of it. Valerie remained surprisingly calm and we talked as the scenario unfolded. I didn't tell her I was scared. I just told her he wanted us to pull over but that I didn't think it was a good idea. Boy, was that an understatement.
At last, as I thought I had the situation figured out, I looked at him through my rearview mirror as he tried to overtake me and I could tell we were look g into each others eyes, trying to figure each other out, I put my pointer finger up into the air and waggled my finger the way a teacher would say, " no, no, no. Don’t do that. I'm not going to play along with your little game". Within two more blocks, as if by magic, he gave up the chase and pulled into a gas station and we disappeared into the crowd of cars on the road.
Needless to say, it ruined the rest of the day for me, wondering what had happened and what I had avoided by not stopping. I didn't talk about it too much with Valerie and she did a better job of putting it behind us. And when we returned to the hotel, I googled "fake accidents in Sicily" and discovered that this is in fact a known tactic by organized gangs albeit not the mafia. In the end, I decided I had kept my cool and my wits and had outwitted the con artist but I think it came with a high price of not enjoying myself for the rest of our time in Sicily. I just had a difficult time trusting anyone after that incident. I should add that there were very very nice people that we met on the trip. For example, I was lost one day and asked a passerby if he could help. The last thing I expected him to do was to turn his car around and ask me to follow he and his family and that they would show me the way. The trip was about four miles out of his way but he drove happily to show me to my hotel in the countryside of Marsala. It was an extremely nice gesture from a complete Sicilian stranger. So why should the bad deed outweigh the good deed? I think it's a matter of survival. The good deed is great and reminds me that people are good. But the bad deed is a reminder that there are some who will do you harm and the need to remain forever vigilant. As a husband and father, I feel that it’s my duty to protect my family and that it’s one of primary responsibilities.
Comments
FLYING WHILE PREGNANT
29/06/11 18:34
I don’t know why I think most 6 month pregnant women would begin to cool their heels on the air travel across the Atlantic but not my wife. She headed for Europe at the first sign of opportunity. Then again, she’s European. We have a couple of good friends who are getting married in Sicily this weekend and Valerie and I figured this may be the last opportunity to travel for the immediate future. She headed home to Ireland so the family could see her in all her pregnant beauty. From there, she would meet me in Italy. Lots of people say you shouldn’t travel in your third trimester but doctors say it’s okay until your 34th week. Most airlines won’t allow pregnant women on their planes after the 34th week. I wondered what was so special about 34 weeks. What can happen to the baby then?
It can come out, that’s what can happen! Birthing a baby on a plane is not a pretty thought or sight. Doctors don’t like it. Airlines don’t like it. And fellow passengers don’t like it. Come to think of it, the pregnant woman wouldn’t like it either. So Valerie needs to be back in Boston by the 34th week or her pumpkin might turn out in a carriage over the Atlantic.
So what’s it like for a 6-month pregnant woman to fly? I decided to interview her so us guys would know what to expect if it should happen to any of your wives (or girlfriends, for any of you Scandanavian types.)
Steve: How long is the flight from Boston to Ireland?
Val: The flight is approximately 6 hours so you’ve got to be prepared to last that long with food, water and a little bit of exercise. These days, as airlines find ways to cut corners with service, it’s best not rely on a flight attendant to bring you water or a snack at your whim. Instead, I/we pack snacks and buy two bottles of water before we board the plane. Also, it’s important to eat a full meal soon before the plane leaves to maximize energy levels.
Steve: How cramped are the seats when you’re poking out like that?
Val: Even with a six month bump, I’m still no worse off than a guy with a beer belly so I’m not too much at a disadvantage, except the guy with the beer belly still gets to drink beer!
Steve: Are there any concerns with cabin pressure?
Steve: Any concerns with circulation?
Val: As a matter of fact my dear husband, thrombosis (blood clot) is a concern for pregnant women. So, it is important to walk around the plane frequently, and when sitting, it’s a good idea to rotate and flex the feet. This keeps the circulation in the calves good which helps prevent clots. One can also wear compression stockings, which being very tight, forces the blood to continue upwards towards the heart. The less sluggish the blood flow the less risk of clots. (Did I mention my wife is a scientist?)
Steve: Any adverse affects from water retention? You know, the cankle syndrome thingy?
Val: My ankles did swell a bit so I just made sure to put my feet up a lot the day after I arrived. And they went back to normal.
Steve: Are people overly nice to you or are they callous as ever?
Val: What a cynic you are dear husband! Truth is, everyone was very nice to me. In fact, in the departure lounge, two kind gentlemen each offered to wheel my bag on to the lane and put it in the overhead compartment. After the flight, the two gentlemen argued over which would wheel it into the terminal.
Steve: Temperature. You keep turning getting hot and cold at home. How’s that feel on a plane? Anything you can do about it?
Val: I’ve learned my lesson in the that department. I always make sure I wear layers now and so when I’m not, I take something off. When I’m cold I put something on.
It was here that I asked her if taking something off had anything to do with the two gentlemen offering to help her with her bags but when I got a dirty look, I moved on to another question.
Steve: Any toilet issues on those cramped planes?
Val: As you know, pregnant ladies do need to use the bathroom more than usual. But this is okay because it’s good to walk around. Yes, they’re cramped but that’s true even if you aren’t pregnant.
In closing, I asked Val if there’s anything else that pregnant women should know when traveling later in their pregnancy and she had a wise observation after checking airline policies.
Val: Also, medically speaking, if you have severe cramping or bleeding during a flight, that’s a cause for concern and you should consider telling a flight attendant.
I BOUGHT MY UNBORN CHILD A HORSE
24/06/11 18:36
I don’t know what I was thinking but the proud Palomino horse looked lonely sitting next to the vinyl record collection in the Cambridge antique market. I bent down and patted the old girl and she touched my heart. I haggled with the owner and he said he’d take $100 for the old mare. We shook hands and the deal was sealed.
I’ve sinced named the horse, Old Paint. She was made in the early 60s and was built at a time when plastic wasn’t the go-to material. This children’s play horse is made of metal. It’s about 16 inches tall and is made for a 3 year-old. So why I bought it for my 0 year-old I’m not quite sure. Except that I despise brightly colored plastic child toys and this seemed more ‘real’. I like things that are aesthetically pleasing and I’m hoping my child will be the same. So when I find well-designed toys, I plan to get them for ‘Junior.’
The unique feature that makes this horse so cool is that you can actually ride it. There’s no place to plug the horse in to the wall outlet. There’s no door to feed it 10 d-cell batteries that will wear out in two weeks. You hop on, bounce up and down, and the weight of the child bouncing up and down causes the mechanism inside the horse to make it move forward with every bounce. It’s so cool. It promotes exercise as well as imagination. I still have a pair of cowboy boots from when I was three years old living in Conroe, Texas so I figure a hat and a six shooter should give Junior endless fun. Well, for at least 10 minutes or however long kids play with something before they get tired of it.
