My Stolen Diaries – Chapter 13: Is My Dad in the Mafia?

CHAPTER 13

IS MY DAD IN THE MAFIA?

December 1963

Like any kid, I wish I knew more about my father and would like to see him again, but I know it’s not possible, especially now that Mom thinks he’s in the mafia.

Mom refuses to talk about him, so we never do. I can sometimes get Mem to talk about him, but not very often. She mostly tells me, “Go ask your mother.” When I do as Mem says, Mom gets ugly in the face and tells me to “Shut my trap.”

I know I’m French on Mom and Mem’s side, but I don’t know what I am on my father’s side. Before my Catholic baptism, I was Greek Orthodox, so maybe I’m Greek?

But when I ask Mem and Mom if I’m Greek, they both respond with, “Don’t start that up again.”

But I can’t help myself. I try not to start up or cause trouble, but every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded over and over of all the things I don’t know about myself or my dad.

When Mom gets mad at me, she yells that I’m just like my father. I want to ask her why, but I don’t dare because I’m not an idiot.  And I sure hope I’m not just like my father because everyone in my family hates him.

I tried to ask Adam some more mafia questions, but he must have told Mem I was snooping around because he said he wasn’t allowed to talk about that with me anymore. When I asked him what could be worse than getting killed, he made believe he didn’t hear my question and changed the subject.

That made me angry at Adam, so to get back at him, I said that Steve was buying us a television set for Christmas, which I could see bothered him a lot.

Three days later, Adam had a television set delivered to our apartment, which made Steve furious, but he never said a word about how he felt to Mem. Steve asked me if I had anything to do with Adam buying us a television set, and I lied and said no.

I also lied and told Steve that Adam told me plenty about my dad and asked him what he knew. He said he knew nothing about my dad, but I could tell he was a liar, just like me. Plus, when I asked Steve if he thought I looked like my dad, he said “a little,” so he must know something about him.

Even though I tried, I couldn’t get Steve to say anything more except that kids are better seen than heard and that I should give up getting any family secrets from him.

So, I listened to Steve and gave up until the other night when I caught Mem and Mom whispering together about a newspaper article Mom had in her shaking hand.

They spoke French, but my understanding of the language is getting better by the day.

Whatever they were talking about, as far as I could figure, had something to do with my father running naked out of a swamp with his hands up over his head! His friend Anthony, who It sounded like Mom knew, was shot and killed, but the police couldn’t kill my dad because he wasn’t wearing any clothes and his hands were in the air.

Mom also told Mem that the article said my dad’s problems with the law had something to do with a bunch of arrests against some of the hitmen connected to the Gambino family.

Mem hugged Mom, who kept saying she was afraid someone in the mafia would try to hurt me to get back at my dad.

Why would anyone want to hurt me? And who was the Gambino family?

Then she hid the newspaper article on the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet over the sink.

In the middle of the night, while everyone was asleep, I snuck out of bed and tiptoed to the kitchen even though I was scared to death of the cockroaches and rats. But I had to read the newspaper for myself, so I took my chances.

I didn’t turn on the light, so the cockroaches on the wall didn’t move much.

I dragged a kitchen chair to the sink, climbed up to the cabinet, and discovered a pile of newspapers, so I pulled them all down.

The article on the top said: BRIDGEPORT MAN ARRESTED IN SHOOTOUT

And there in the newspaper was my dad’s name and address. It said that investigators from the State Organized Crime Task Force arrested Mick Michaels for assaulting a State Trooper. The guy Anthony, who was with my dad, got shot in the head. The police said Anthony, who had ties to Billy Batts and the Gambino Family, committed suicide. My dad was charged with assault and carrying a dangerous weapon, which I’m sure had to be a gun. They also charged him with violating probation, whatever that is. And he paid $25,000 to stay out of jail until his court date.

My heart was pounding as I read through the newspaper articles and wrote down as many headings as possible so I could read them later.

ORGANIZED CRIME INVESTIGATORS ARREST GAMBLING CLUB OWNER * BRIDGEPORT MAN CHARGED WITH ASSAULT * JAIL TERM GIVEN IN GAMING CASE * U.S. PRISON TERMS GIVEN TO TWO IN AREA * DRIVER IS JAILED IN CAR GUN CASE * COURT CHARGES TWO IN STOLEN GOODS * THREE FROM CITY INDICTED ON FEDERAL CHARGES * JAIL TERM GIVEN TO BRIDGEPORT MAN IN GAMBLING RAID * MAN ARRESTED IN LIQUOR AND MAIL THEFTS * TWO MEN JAILED IN AFTERMATH OF NEWSROOM RAID * TWO NABBED IN GAMING RAID * BRIDGEPORT MAN HELD FOR GUN FOUND IN AUTO * FIVE IN BOOKIE RING GIVEN JAIL * MAN ARRESTED AFTER GANG FIGHT ON BEACH * DIVORCE GRANTED BASED ON INTOLERABLE CRUELTY * 34 ARE CHARGED ON AUTO TAG LIST * RAID ON BRIDGEPORT HOUSE RIPS BIG BET BUSINESS * CLOVER CLUB OWNER CHARGED ON INCOME TAX VIOLATION * LOCAL MAN INDICTED FOR DISTRIBUTING HEROIN AND COCAINE *

I went back to bed but couldn’t sleep. All I could think about was that my dad was a thief, a thug, a criminal, a dangerous man, and probably in the mafia.

The next day I asked Sister Regina Mary if $25,000 was a lot of money, and she told me it was almost one-quarter of a million dollars! I also asked her if she knew anything about the Gambino family, and she said they were mafia murderers.

Now I know that Mom is right, and my dad is in the mafia, but at least he’s not in jail. Not yet, anyway. And I pray he’s not a hitman.

So now, like Mom, I’m worried that the mafia might be coming for me, which makes me really angry at my dad. Doesn’t he know I could get killed or worse? Doesn’t he know I’m already living a scary life?

And since he came up with so much money, my dad must be rich, so why are we so poor?

Click here for Chapter 14: Almost in the Nick of Time

My Stolen Diaries – Chapter 12: JFK’s Assassination

CHAPTER 12

JFK’S ASSASSINATION

November 29, 1963

Last Friday, November 22, Mother Superior came into our classroom sobbing—and whispered something in Sister Regina Mary’s ear.

When the two of them fell into each other’s arms, bawling their eyes out, I knew something terrible must have happened.

That’s when Mother Superior told us that President Kennedy was “with God,” which everybody knows means dead.

Both Sisters left the class, so we all left, too, although nobody bothered to tell us what to do. As I walked home along Boston Avenue, all the cars were pulled over on both sides of the usually busy two-lane street. People were out of their cars, looking like ghosts, crying out, “Kennedy is dead,” to no one in particular.

Two days later, we were all at church for Sunday services when we got the whispered news that Lee Harvey Oswald, the man who killed Kennedy, was shot in the stomach and killed by some guy on television for everyone to see. We hurried home from church as soon as services were over to listen to the news on the radio.

The next day was Monday, November 25, and President Kennedy’s funeral was on television, except we still didn’t have one, so we walked over to Mom’s friend Edie’s house to watch it with her family.

Our new President, Lyndon Johnson, made it a National Day of Mourning, so the whole country had the day off.

At school on Tuesday, Sister Regina Mary spent most of the class time talking to us about the funeral and Oswald’s murderer. Even the nuns had a television set, which made me want one even more than before. Plus, we were missing out on everything, including the news about Jack Ruby, the man who Sister Regina Mary said killed Oswald.

That night, Mom spoke in French to Mem and Mere Germaine about Jack Ruby. “Il est dans la mafia comme Tony’s père,” which means he’s in the mafia, like Tony’s father, which scared the heck out of me.

The next day I asked Adam about the mafia, and he told me they were a bunch of criminals who kill people—or worse. Then I asked Adam if people in the mafia assassinate people, and he said, “absolutely.”

And if what Adam says about the mafia is true, what could be worse than getting killed?

Could it be possible that my father is in the mafia, or is Mom just saying that because she hates him? Since Uncle Luke was the one with the gun, I think that maybe Mom got it wrong, and he’s the one in the mafia and not my dad.

Everyone I know is horribly upset about Kennedy, and Mem says no one will ever forget his assassination. I’m upset, but not because of Kennedy.

I’m upset because whenever I think about Kennedy, I will never forget that’s when I found out my dad is a criminal who probably assassinates people.

Or worse.

Click here for Chapter 13: Is My Dad in the Mafia?

I Hear a Symphony

The wind rustles through the

cypress trees, while the sparrows

perch like Christmas ornaments

and harmonize in the waning light.

It’s chilly, but I sit and shiver,

grateful for the symphony,

the resin lion in plain sight.

I feel so much, yet it’s never enough.

I wonder what they’re doing

and wait.