Off The Record
by Peter Amari
As a second generation American-Italian boy growing up in Brooklyn in the 50s and 60s, it seemed like there wasn’t enough hours in a day to do all the things I wanted to do. When was I going to stop and think, “Hey, where did I come from?” While I am writing this at the age of 63, it is the foremost question on my mind, but when your 7 years old who cared to find out. All I had to do was ask.