In 1946, the family gathered on Sunday afternoon at the home of one of my father’s uncles in New Jersey. The men sat around a large kitchen table drinking wine and snacking before dinner. The women were in the living room chatting.

My father, Santo, and grandfather, Giuseppe Caltagirone, along with his brother-in-law, John Vena, were having a conversation. Also at the table were John Vena’s son John II, and his son-in-law, Sonny. My 5-year-old self listened quietly, nursing my Coca Cola. I could understand most of the comments made in English and none of the Sicilian discussion. This particular family session stays in my mind because they were talking about something new.