Despite growing up in a low-income area during a time of depression in post-war Sicily, Giuseppe’s childhood was stress-free and joyful.
In the late 60s Palermo was benefiting from the temporary ceasefire in the intermission between the first1 and second2 Mafia was that allowed for fearless living.
The atmosphere wasn’t tense or violent, and blood wasn’t shed overtly in daylight — a few years would go by before gore murders would become a daily occurrence. Crime existed but it was subtle, controlled and strategically maneuvered by the secret society we have learned to identify as Cosa Nostra.
This obscure organization dictated many aspects of life in the city, including politics, the economy, and even who could do which infraction.
The numerous capos at the helm of the various riones (districts) meticulously orchestrated their operation to make sure the city was in balance.
The many unspoken rules that governed Palermo at the time surely weren’t created, nor managed, by the appointed political figures. Law and order were maintained by a different kind of ruling body — one that used shrewd prevatication to assert its power.
Apparent tranquility characterized Giuseppe’s neighborhood; its residents were hard working, working class people for the most part. He understood family was the matrix gearing mundane relationships into place, however as he grew from toddler to child, he started sensing that his maternal family exerted particular influence over the calm essence of his world.
Free to wander without restrictions whenever he wasn’t at school, Giuseppe spent his days running up and down the flight of stairs that divided his apartment from his grandparents’, often stopping on the first landing to check in with his neighbor.
As the rowdiest of the 4 children, he was frequently blamed for the mischief of his siblings.
If something was broken inside the house, he’d get a beating. If he was even remotely near the misdeed, he’d get disciplined.
In the first leg of Giuseppe’s life, the most exciting days of the year were Sundays and November 2nd – the Day of the Dead – as parents bought their children gifts under the guise of late ancestors.
During this specific period of the fall, as the wind got sharper and temperatures dropped, Palermo would turn into a festive miracle with toy stalls laying all around.
A jolly vibe invaded the streets while the sweet smell of sugary treats filled the air. It was better than Christmas.
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