Journal of Italian Translation - Brooklyn College - Academic Home ...

108
Journal of Italian Translation
have a picture of Jesus in my house, I can’t have my babies baptize...”
“Don’t remind me of that day of infamy!” Pop shouted. “Traitors!
Fifth Columnists! Jesuits!” Cisco stared at my father.
“Don’t worry.” Fred calmly poured anisette into Cisco’s coffee.
“He gets like that every time he remembers our baptisms.”
“Double-crosser!” Pop yelled to my mother.
“Dictator!” she yelled back.
“My cousin Louise,” I quick1y explained to Cisco, “she kidnapped
Fred and me when I was twelve, and she had us baptized.”
“This woman!” Pop’s accusing finger shot toward my mother
and shook in front of Cisco’s eyes. “This woman was the traitor!”
“He’s a lousy dictator!” Her accusing finger shot toward my
father and shook in front of Cisco’s eyes.
Cisco took the two opposing fingers in his hands, “Well, Mrs.
Longhi, at least your children were baptized.”
“Too late!” She withdrew her finger. “Some injection only work
for some people – the baptism work for my Freddie – he’s a good
Catholic, but” – she pointed her finger at me – “for that sonofabitch
it no work!”
Gabrielle nearly fell off her chair with laughter.
“And whatta you laugh, Jew?” Mom tried to keep back her
own laughter.
“That’s enough!” Pop stood up. “Everybody on the roof! Come
on Cisco, play the guitar! Su fratelli –” he began singing the Italian
socialist anthem as he led the way. Mom chanted a Latin litany in
counterpoint to Pop’s anthem as she followed him up the stairs.
“What’s she chanting?” Cisco asked me as we joined the procession.
“Her own Latin words for ‘Fuck all of his ancestors – the dead
and the extradead.’ “
We sat on the roof, talking, singing, and slowly recovering from
Mom’s gargantuan dinner. Pop and Mom told stories of Italy. Cisco
told us about California and about his mother and his sister. He
said nothing about Slim. We talked of everything except the war,
until it was time to go.
Pop said, “Stay until the moon comes up.”
We stayed, but the mood changed. Cisco sang some lonesome
songs like a sad troubadour from olden times, and Mom sang some
ancient lullabies.