We landed in New York in 1948,our grandmother, and two young war orphans. Our father was killed in the Italian military and our mother died during a bombardment; it was a lie. This is the story of my struggle to come to terms with that lie; to deal with the effects of war, of immigration and the errors I made. It extends over most of the first half of the Twentieth Century following three generations from Cherso (today Cres, Croatia) , to Trieste, Italy and finally, to the United States. It is a story of the absurdities, tragedies, and the humor that can be found even in the worse moments. The story is told, mostly in the first person as I experienced it, as I heard or as I learned about it through research. Where there was more than one version, I have favored the one that, in my view, was most plausible.
