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One of the ironies I’ve encountered in researching my family’s genealogy has been that I have had more success compiling factual information about ancestors dating back to the 17th century than I have for my grandparents’ and parents’ generation. After years of searching with little success uncovering any significant information regarding my family’s recent history, I happened upon clues that revealed a cache of facts about my ancestors in the 17th and 18th centuries. My theory about this dearth of information concerning more contemporary generations is that once immigrants arrived here, they wanted to blend in, to be as unobtrusive as possible in order not to draw undue attention to themselves. This tactic was apparently popular with my Sicilian ancestors. The Irish and German branches of the family tree on the other hand remain virtually untraceable until they emigrated. The Coadys arrived in America just prior to the Civil War, probably in the mid 1850’s; the Freehs arrived from Baden, Germany a few decades earlier; and, my paternal grandfather, Georg Johann Braun ventured from Blumendorf, Germany in 1903 and left even fewer clues relating to the origins of his own family.

While it is a generalization to conclude that the behavior of all immigrants followed a pattern of anonymity once they arrived in America, there is considerable evidence to support that claim as it apples to my ancestors, particularly those who came from Sicily. There are a number of possible scenarios which may explain this phenomenon. The essential quality of the peasant farmer’s life in Sicily was geared toward overcoming adversity so that he could eke out a living for his family. Land ownership was a marker which signified one was in a different and better social class. I don’t believe my grandfather enjoyed any such luxury although he and his family owned the house in which they lived when he left Sicily in 1906. Work was often drudgery and difficult to find if it existed at all. Men had to travel out into the country in search of work while their families remained behind and did what they could until the men returned. This migratory practice figured prominently in my grandfather’s life when he left Sicily and came to this country. A letter I found written in Italian from one of his friends while the family was living in Philadelphia indicated that many Italians including my grandfather–and probably his sons when they were old enough–commuted to South Jersey to work as a day laborers and field hands on one of the local farms. The processes involved in this migrant workforce was not unlike that which plays out in immigrant communities today, only the ethnicity of the laborers has changed. Another letter I have describes an incident in which my grandfather had been directed to pay a fee to a certain man, probably the American equivalent of the padrone in Sicily, for the work that he and his sons had been given. As a child, I do not recall my grandfather speaking English so it is all the more plausible that his ability to secure work depended on either employers who spoke Italian–and Sicilian dialects were not familiar to all Italians which made communication among fellow Italians difficult as well–or relied upon the skills of an interlocutor who could speak for him to an employer, for a fee, of course.

Another factor may have figured prominently in the relative secrecy which appears to have shrouded some of the family subsequent to their arrival in this country. I recall anecdotes from different sources that hinted that my grandfather wanted to distance himself from the mafia which was apparently active in his native Sicily particularly in Belmonte Mezzagno–his birthplace–and San Giuseppe Jato–my grandmother’s birthplace. My grandfather was also leery of similar influences lurking in the teeming streets of south Philadelphia during the first quarter of the 20th century. It is an eery coincidence that known mafiosi from Belmonte Mezzagno and San Giuseppe Jato share a few ancestral surnames: Spera, Martorana, for example. I can add two personal accounts from my childhood that contribute to the mafia mistique. Although my father isn’t Italian he seemed to be the designated driver who chauffeured my grandmother and other family members–as children we were brought along despite our protestations to do something more interesting–from South Jersey into south Philadelphia to visit family and relatives ranging from my grandmother’s mother to her brothers and sisters and their children. It happened on one of those trips to visit an aunt who lived in one of the multitude of row houses bunched together like a line of old men while young men gathered in noisy pockets to shoot craps on a nearby street corner. My cousin Tommy–I think everybody was a cousin back then, even if they weren’t–with his slick hair do, black and shiny, sitting regally behind the wheel of his car motions for us to come over and have a look. The interior of that automobile was fine; however, everything about that car would have dissolved with age had my cousin not exposed the contents of the special compartment he had built into the console of his car. As we leaned in through the rolled down windows for a closer look, Tommy opened that compartment with a flourish and revealed a cache of weapons, one of which I believe to this day was a Thompson submachine gun. One Sunday morning as she was reading the Philadelphia Bulletin my mother called out in surprise that one of her uncles was on the cover of the Parade section. When I asked her what she meant she pointed out a man in the photograph standing on a street corner in Philadelphia. The caption read that the photograph was taken as part of an investigation of organized crime activity and the man on the corner was arrested as a numbers runner. A fertile imagination might account for the speculative nature of these incidents had it not been for all the times we’d stop by a bootlegging operation in a large brick factory building in south Philadelphia to buy Dago Red in gallon jugs before we’d slip back to Jersey over the Ben Franklin Bridge were much too gritty only to be the rambling dreams that a tired kid has nestled in the backseat of an old sedan between his grandmom and his siblings.

Over the last year I’ve vacillated between buying another genealogy program and continuing to use iFamily For Leopard–it was called iFamily For Tiger when I purchased it.  There are a number of reasons to continue with iFamily, most of which I have mentioned in previous posts but a rather special feature of the software was lost with the passing of Keith Wilson, the software’s developer and chief advocate.  Keith was almost omnipresent on the iFamily forum with quick responses to questions and uncanny with his rapid delivery of fixes to any issues which arose with the software itself.  The high profile that Keith set would be difficult, if not impossible, for successive developers to maintain; however, even granting a less herculean stature for the next developer to step into the breach as iFamily’s architect, the once bright future of the software seems much dimmer and less certain.  Perhaps, the most annoying aspect of iFamily’s development is the lack of communication regarding that development.  The developer’s deafening silence in the forum fuels the doubt that iFamily is being actively developed.

With the uncertainty of iFamily’s future as an actively developed genealogy program becoming a greater possibility, I downloaded Reunion 9 as an option should I decide to make a change.  Reunion enjoys a large following of active and devoted users as well as being cited by many genealogists as the premier genealogy program for Mac.  The Reunion forums, at first glance, seem to be very active, responsive, and helpful both regarding the specifics of using Reunion and diverse topics involved in genealogy itself.  When technical issues need to be vetted the developers post on the forum as well.

While I am more than disappointed with the way progress on iFamily has unfolded, there are several reasons for not abandoning iFamily for Reunion 9 immediately.  I find iFamily’s interface more aesthetically pleasing to me than Reunion which may be attributed to the fact that I have used iFamily for a few years now.  I prefer iFamily’s generated HTML for web sites to the web cards that Reunion outputs.  I do find that Reunion’s documentation is a strength that iFamily would profit from if it were incorporated into its development regime, in fact, iFamily’s lack of adequate and readily available documentation is a glaring flaw despite the archived Q & A’s, and FAQ’s on its forum boards.  Price is another factor since Reunion 9 is three times as expensive as iFamily; however, if a program is no longer actively developed, the issue of price becomes moot.  I am not a seasoned genealogist so I found iFamily’s evolving nature to my own personal tastes; with Keith gone, that approach may no longer be possible or viable.

Reunion doesn’t offer limited GEDCOM file importing in its demo version which is very troubling as I would like to test the software with my own data rather than rely on the Royal Family or manually key in data.  I have discovered from Reunion’s various online forums that unlinked sources are not transferred into Reunion when a GEDCOM file is imported which has prompted me to recheck my iFamily data should I take the plunge and switch to Reunion 9.  Reunion has been around for a long time and its future as a Mac only genealogy program appears to be secure.  There is an old adage that a leopard cannot change its spots but I am willing to be patient for a little longer in hope that a snow leopard will–or at least until I can get a proper GEDCOM file prepared to export/import.

Constructing A New Colossus

I’m not sounding a call for the legal profession although such an alert might be warranted.  No, my dismay is with our elected representatives in Congress and with the usual obtuse behavior we American Yahoos so energetically embrace.  We spend so much time and energy posturing how important health and education are to us as individuals and as a nation; however, our actions betray our true intentions: the tyranny of appearance–shallow and superficial–in whose thrall we remain.

If a health care bill is signed into law and does not include the popularly dubbed public option, we may well have to edit The New Colossushuddled masses cower with the tired, poor, the wretched refuse crumbling from foreclosures, the homeless, and the tempest tossed abandoned and alone beside a darkened door.  So soon have bankers, hedge fund managers, the rank and file of financial investment firms returned to their old practices: bonuses as entitlement, excessive profit taking and the resumption of the use of derivatives, which are still unregulated despite the governments best pantomime of posturing to the contrary; the stigma of greed has become once again a badge of honor–at least among certain classes of thieves– while men of power opine and do nothing except hint that somewhere, somehow, they will staunch the flow of executive bonuses.

The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan continue, almost as persistent as the practice of bloodletting, which finally faded from our lexicon of medical treatments after an ignominious run of 2000 years.  Want money for health care?  Withdraw our troops from Iraq and Afghanistan–it is a given that we should not send more.  We have a splendid history of supporting corrupt governments: Saddam Hussein, Musharif, Karzai, Reza Pahlavi, Fugencio Batista.  How can we ever doubt our leaders’ perspicacity to evaluate the motives of foreign governments when there are such fine skills exemplified by our own beloved W looked into Putin’s soul and thought he saw the heart of the man but unfortunately we learned later that it was only a reflection of Dick Cheney.  Sadly, the rubric now being bandied about is that any decisions regarding Afghanistan will be determined, at least in part, by the outcome of the run-off vote following an egregiously corrupt election orchestrated by the even more egregiously corrupt Karzai family and its hegemony of cohorts.  Every drop of blood is precious regardless of national origin; however, our actions suggest that we are willing to sacrifice our way of life and values to maintain the façade of a democratically elected government in Afghanistan.

Following our government’s policy in Afghanistan, it should come as no surprise that the same indifference is manifested in the area of healthcare and education.  Certain members of Congress pontificate about the pitfalls of the government’s involvement in the administration of healthcare insurance yet none decline the healthcare our tax dollars purchase for them–As far as I am aware no one has volunteered to pay for their own insurance–it comes with the work, if you are lucky enough to get it!  There is no ignominy in broadcasting misleading advertisements sponsored by private insurance companies or the conspicuous and unrelenting pressure powerful lobbyists exert upon every elected official at every level of government.

Less becomes the new more, especially in education.  Titillation has supplanted effort reducing learning to a state of tingling and jangling nerves.  Everyone succeeds, in his own mind; however, all too frequently, failure is a matter of national tragedy.  The success of Plato’s Republic was based upon a noble lie about our fundamental nature, the categories into which each of us are bound.  Whether we repair our aging Republic or build a new one, perhaps we will reveal our true selves by our penchant for or our aversion to deception regardless of its lineage.

Buying Local? Caveat Emptor

The predominate community mantra these days is:  Buy Local.  Taken at face value, this injunction seems to be a reasonable way both to engage and stimulate local businesses; however, as with all issues, the devil is very often in the details.  Approximately eight years ago I contracted with a local home maintenance company, Pike’s, to install vinyl siding and replacement windows in my home.  I decided it was time for me to join the legions of homeowners who had tired of scaling ladders and scaffolding to prepare and to paint the exterior of their houses.  Along with installing premium siding from Alcoa we had ten windows replaced with premium virgin, vinyl windows that were double pane with argon gas to reduce the harshness of the sun’s rays, etc.  We also had all of our gutting and downspouts replaced along with the waterfall gutter guards and some minor flashing work around a bay window area where we had already installed custom made Andersen windows.  The installation went smoothly enough with only one rough spot–one of the windows had a defect and didn’t work properly.  The defective window was quickly replaced which was reassuring considering the check I had written to have the work done.

A couple of years ago or so I had an issue regarding a section of vinyl siding.  I contacted the company to have someone come out, inspect the situation, and repair or recommend what needed to be done–all of the materials were warranted for life.  Perhaps it was an oversight or maybe scheduling was really a problem, but I got no response until I wrote a letter to the owner, who, by the way never responded although a “supervisor” eventually appeared and grudgingly made some adjustments to the siding.  While he was on site he regaled me with anecdotes of the incompetence of the installers who worked for the company years ago, when the work was done on my house.  Unfortunately, there was some truth in his tale as I was informed later by an official from Duke Power of a code violation because there was vinyl siding covering the electrical service where it attaches to the house and connects to the meter.

A little more than two months ago, while my wife and I were cleaning the windows, we noticed a problem with one of the windows.  The problem is that the part of the window where the sash attaches to it has come detached from the window and remains at the bottom of the track when the window is raised.  So I called Pike’s and described the situation with the window.  I was greeted with what appeared to me was the usual truculent, defensive maneuver that so many companies resort to instead of simply ascertaining what the problem is and how it can be resolved.  After a considerable amount of time explaining, then establishing that I was a customer, etc., I was transferred to a another person in the company.  I repeated what I had told to the first person–I confess that my explanation may not have captured the problem as clearly as either I or the company representative would have liked–and suggested that it would be best if someone came out and inspected the window.  A date was set, an estimator arrived as scheduled, looked at the window, declared it a manufacturing defect, stated that his company no longer had that window, etc.  Defense again.  I produced my invoice from the installation and the records associated with it, which he reviewed.  I told him I wanted the window repaired or replaced.  Interestingly, when the estimator first looked at the windows he remarked that they were in really good shape!  I thought it odd that he would expect them to be in any other condition.  I’m not in the habit of destroying that which I have worked hard to afford!  At any rate, he told me that he would research the manufacturer of the windows and contact me in about two weeks.

Two weeks became two months.  I called Pike’s to find out the status regarding the problem with my window.  Once again I had to jump through hoops until I became just a bit warm under the collar and probably upped the decibel level of my voice whereupon I was handed off to another person who was considerably more adroit at recognizing there was such a thing as a customer and customers pay the bills.  Apologies all around and excepted.  I get transferred to the guy who came out to inspect my window; he tells me as others have told me that there was a miscommunication–of course there is always a miscommunication, remember Cool Hand Luke: When Strother Martin defines life’s biggest problem for Paul Newman!  What we have here is a failure to communicate! He says he will call me once he verifies the manufacturer of the windows, etc.  I’m told the company that manufactured my windows was sold about two years ago to another company.  Fine, just gather all the pertinent information and get back to me. I give him my cell number in addition to the land line so that he can call me at any time.  I get a call on my cell a day or two later while I am in the middle of something and can’t really talk but suggest that he either call me later or email me the information and I verify that he has my correct email address before I hang up.

A few days later I call the telephone number provided in the email I’ve received.  Ah, the wonders of technology!  Nowadays, all companies virtually guarantee that no customer will ever talk to a sentient being.  After navigating a maze of pre-programmed telephone options, none of which was categorized appropriately for my particular problem, I simply choose one, and then another, until I manage to find a living being to talk to.  All’s well that ends well, but the Bard be forgiven, that cliché is not applicable to my situation although one has to admire the novelty of customer relations:  I was told to Google the series number on the gold label on one of the bottom rails (maybe on the upper half or the bottom half) of my window and that would tell me who manufactured my windows because she was absolutely certain that her company was not the manufacturer.  I felt a sinking feeling come over me like an overweight mastodon strolling through the La Brea tar pits.  Google, despite many who believe that it is the font of all truth, the be-all and end-all of all that is, isn’t, but, I do the search anyway.  No manufacturer, not even close–maybe I should have given Bing a try.  Maybe next time.

So I call Pike’s once again.  I am regaled with menu of automated messages.  There is no live person available despite being informed by one of those messages that the hours during which the business operates coincides precisely with the time my call has been placed.  I leave a voice message.  I send an email.  Now another week has passed.  I suppose that my next step is writing to David Pike once again; however, my last experience seemed less than fruitful, in fact, he seemed to ignore it.  It appears that my only value to Pike’s occurred years ago when I wrote them a check and paid them in full.  Apparently the company was not seeking to build a viable, long-term, community-based, business relationship.  Owning a house is not a static proposition; maintenance and upkeep are constants; roofs need replacing.  Why would any company spurn or discourage paying customers?  Is it arrogance or incompetence?  Even when the economy is blushing with work and ripe with funds ready to be invested in divers of projects, the best businesses–large, small, local, international–will attend to customers rather than disregard them.

One should always carefully scrutinize any business before one enters into a relationship with that business and it is no less axiomatic because that company happens to be locally owned.  We thought we had taken the right step when we decided to support a local business but apparently we were mistaken.  Lifetime warranty is a euphemism if the company which stands behind it is a façade.  I’m not implying that all local businesses are taboo.  As a matter of fact, I think very highly of Talley Water Treatment Company which continues to provide the kind of service and quality that was pivotal in my decision to retain them.  I suffer no delusions that my venting in this blog will repair or replace the defective window; the three people who read this blog probably don’t intend to replace their windows or cover their houses with vinyl siding, but, I hope they’d contact me first if they were considering Pike’s for the job.  The only thing I can say for sure is that I paid for the window once; and, it looks as if I’ll have to pay for it again, only this time it certainly won’t be Pike!

Quagmires And Quotes

While many ultra right wing conservatives may have regarded the election of Barack Obama as president of the United States with foreboding, I did not.  The vote I cast for him was done without equivocation, in fact, it was done with pride and an abiding sense of relief that the highest elective office in the land would be occupied by an individual who was literate, competent, and well-spoken.  After eight years of aberration, malignant officials and malfeasance in governance, the erosion of democracy in this country, and the lack of both the will and the wisdom to shape a viable foreign policy almost any change would have been an improvement–provided that Sarah Palin was not a part of the new administration.  Conservatives feared Obama’s idealism and liberals embraced it but these political adversaries failed to weigh their strategies to accommodate the President’s overarching pragmatism.  Whereas idealism and pragmatism are not mutually exclusive it is important to note that ideals (objectives) be regarded as open-ended and not necessarily absolute.  Obama’s approach very much involves a tool theory of truth which implies a working ethic secured to the notion that what works for the general weal serves to define what is true.  Under this principle it seems likely that a single payer system is in the best interest of the people whereas such an arrangement defeats the continued excessive profits enjoyed by health insurance companies and providers.

The apparent failure of the majority party (can you say Democrat) to guarantee the inclusion of the single payer option in any healthcare legislation brought to the floor unfortunately is both predictable and indicative of the massive buying power of the insurance lobby.  I wish that simply being more self-aware was a solution; perhaps, then, George Santayana’s famous quotation would be appropriate:  Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it.  Our elected officials are not unconscious–their motivations are self-driven and only complex because we allow them to be presented as such–but they lack even a whisper of conscience and are devoid of the slightest measure of courage.  We, the people, run from our intellect, flee reason, and embrace ignorance and fear, tremble at the mere mention of loaded words, the shibboleths of definitions: socialism, socialized medicine, government intervention.  We have forsaken individualism, stifled innovation, and surrendered our rights as citizens to corporate and private greed.  A pragmatist runs the risk of becoming ensnared in the open-endedness of his construct of truth especially if what works, works only for the privileged minority.

Santayana also said:  Only the dead have seen the end of the war. George W Bush failed to comprehend the philosopher’s meaning; perhaps, that is a curse that all of our presidents must suffer.   And now, Afghanistan, has become Obama’s albatross.  If only one person had to wear this necklace decorated with the failed charms of opprobrium–war, greed, economic chaos, environmental ruin, a debauched healthcare system, political and social injustice–then the sacrifice might parallel the Christian imagery which mocks us as it hastens our decline.

A pragmatist may stumble bearing the weight of our national character.  As Santayana noted in Character and Opinion in the United StatesYou must wave, you must cheer, you must push with the irresistible crowd; otherwise you will feel like a traitor, a soulless outcast, a deserted ship high and dry on the shore … Perhaps, our president finds himself shipwrecked and in need of a man Friday to bolster his resolve.

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