Follow up article to Grace's "There Is No Such Thing As the Mafia" article on the Italian-American Mob, and also on Voodoo's piece on the origins of "A Truly Dead Rebel Society". Read that shit first.

By

Tip Toe Rosie

"My Uncle, The Bookie"

Elise always wants to know what it was like growing up in a hard ass Italian neighborhood. I never know how to answer her. As an adult, I see now that maybe my childhood was a bit different than for some other kids. I can think of one story in particular that kinda sums up the entire thing.

I was 10 years old. Mother Binigness wanted us to write about a person in our family who had an interesting job. We were to deliver this report in front of the class, with the Bishop and everyone’s parents in attendance. I went home and asked questions of everyone in my household. I worked very hard on the report, using my best penmanship and big drawings of various things to make everything clear as daylight.

On the day of the report I proudly stood up and gave my speech. It went something like this:

“My name is (insert long ass name with the minimum of at least 5 Saints’ names) and my report is on my Uncle Gregory - The Bookmaker.

My Uncle Gregory is a bookie. (Show flashcard of Uncle Gregory standing outside a bar with some guy named Tommy 2 Toes or something.) He makes books. He makes books about horses, football, baseball and all sorts of sports. But he says the best action is horses. Most guys are suckers for horses. And you can’t beat the vig on horses. (Show flashcard of a racetrack.) He makes a lot of money making books. When I have been good, I get to go to his shop where they make books and his friend Vinny always buys me cookies. (Show picture of a cookie.) Uncle Gregory had to go away for 5 months. Daddy says the police didn’t like his book. I don’t think that was very nice. Especially since my Uncle Joey is a cop (show pic of a cop) and especially since I know Uncle Joey helps Uncle Gregory make his books. Anyway, I was very sad. But when Uncle Gregory came home we had a big party. And his friends chipped in and bought him a car. An Eldorado Convertible! It’s a really pretty blue. My Uncle’s books are even more popular than Judy Blume!!! And every Sunday after I go to church with Uncle Gregory, we go visit all his friends. Some work in bars, restaurants, and bakeries. And I always get good stuff. Last week I brought home $167.00. So I think when I grow up I will make books too. Daddy told me I can’t. And then I yelled at him and he said he was going to send me to a convent and I will end up old and bitter like Mother Binigness. But I think she just gets cranky because we are loud.

The End.”

The funniest part of this story, aside Mother Binigness’ purple face matching my mother’s perfectly, is that three other kids got up after me and gave the exact same reports, on their dads and uncles. It seemed to be quite a popular occupation in my neighborhood.

You have no idea how hard I got my ass beaten when I got home. Dr. Githa F. Overitt would have been proud.

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