IMMIGRANT
A JOURNEY TO THE AMERICAN DREAM
by
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[My mother] slapped me around a bit and, as usual, scolded me for robbing the family of its meager resources. But I had grown so impervious to guilt or spanking that nothing bothered me anymore. I did what I wanted to do, even stealing from my own family. I was not afraid of anyone or anything. I even played with live ammunition, totally heedless of the danger. Once, I did something that could’ve maimed or killed me. “My God, what did you do?” Vita asked, wondering what an eleven-year old could have done that was so dangerous. Running around the countryside with my buddies, I explained, it was not unusual for us to find unexploded ordnance left behind from WWII. Our favorite spot was a small creek where we found all sorts of things, including rusty handguns and live ammunition. We sold the guns to a local blacksmith who forged them into something useful. As for the ammunition, mostly rifle and machine gun cartridges, we blew them up, after taking the necessary precautions. We would place it on top of a pile of hay, light up the fire, and run for cover behind a large tree or simply lie flat on the ground. By the time the fire heated up the ammo and caused it to explode, we were safely far enough to enjoy the fireworks. We loved hearing the loud explosions and watching the red hot pieces of metal flying above our heads. We were not scared. We were too young to realize how deadly those flying fragments could be. But once, we came so close to being injured that we understood how dangerous was the game we were paying. One hot summer day, we were down in the creek looking for stuff. One of the boys called everybody’s attention to what appeared to be an unexploded bomb the size of small melon. We were all excited at the prospect of blowing it up, just like we had done with live bullets many times before. But this time, it was different. For one thing, we knew it was going to be a huge explosion with a lot of shrapnel flying around. So we decided to build the fire on a small hill so that we could run and take cover down in a swallow ditch less than a hundred feet away. There we waited, watching the flames rise and slowly die down. But nothing happened. Maybe wee needed a bigger fire to heat up the rusty bomb, we thought. So we decided to get up and gather more hay to place on top of the smoldering pile. We had barely gotten up when the bomb went off with a bright flash and a deafening boom. We froze and, panic-stricken, hit the ground. The bloodcurdling whistling of shrapnel flying just above our heads was terrifying. When we finally stood up, we were numbed and speechless. We could have been killed, we thought. The townspeople thought so too, when they heard what we did. They had not forgotten the deaths of four teenagers who four years earlier had died trying to defuse a large bomb they found in the creek. The boys thought the device was too old and badly rusted to be active and, hovering over it, began to take it apart, using a hammer and a screwdriver. Only one of the five boys survived the explosion, the other four died instantly or days later at home. The accident was mourned as the most tragic accident ever to visit Delia. But even the fresh memory of this terrible loss didn’t stop us from keep on looking for rusty guns and unexploded ordnance. “So, you sold rusty guns, took from your family, and stole from farmers. All for what? What did you do with all that money?” Vita asked, wondering what a little boy could possibly do with the money in a town where there was little to do. Actually, we didn’t get that much money, I told her. The storekeepers paid us peanuts, just enough for us to buy gelato, rent a bicycle, or go to movies.
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About the Book
Immigrant: A Journey to the American Dream is the story of all immigrants who left poverty and hopelessness behind and came to America, dreaming of a better life. It is the life story of little Totò, a poor Sicilian immigrant, who comes to America in his late teens and, through hard work and determination, goes on to live the American dream. The book proceeds from his childhood to his first experiences in American factories, time in the US Army, and his successful academic career. On the whole, Totò’s boyhood is not a happy one after having lost his mother at the tender age of three. Virtually left to fend for himself, he turns into a delinquent little boy—skipping school; stealing from his family and neighbors; and going around the countryside, looking for and exploding live ordnance left behind during WWII. To get him off the streets, his parents send him to a boarding school run by the charitable Dominican monks. When the family immigrates to the States, he finds work at a hosiery mill and then at a steel plant while learning English at the local evening school. He is later drafted in the US Army where fellow recruits make fun of his foreign accent. What riles him the most is when they call him Shorty. But soon, he accepts the fact that he is indeed short. The acceptance of himself for what and who he is literally changes his life. It turns him into a self-confident young man ready to face whatever challenge comes his way. With this can-do attitude, he goes on to college and becomes a successful university professor.
About the Author
Salvatore DiMaria is an emeritus professor of Italian from the University of Tennessee. He has written several books and dozens of articles on the Italian Renaissance. He received his early education in the Italian public schools. Born in 1942 of a poor Sicilian family, he immigrated to the US in early 1961. Not knowing a word of English, he took whatever factory work he could that didn’t require knowledge of the language. While working at odd jobs, he went to night school, eventually earning the GED—the equivalent of a high school diploma. He was then drafted in the US Army where he served honorably for two years. While in the service, he took college courses offered at the base by the NCSU Extension Program. By the time he left the army, he had earned enough credits to be admitted as a sophomore at the NCSU in Raleigh and, a year later, as a junior at UNC-Chapel Hill. Upon graduation from UNC, he went to the University of Wisconsin where he earned the PhD in Italian. In Madison, he met and married his wife Lynn, and the two began to raise their family. In 1985, he took a teaching position at the University of Tennessee where he taught for the next thirty-five years. Although technically retired, he continues to teach part-time while working on a novel set in the 1950s Sicily.