The Underside of Joy

The sweet, hardworking, America-loving Italian immigrant who moved here to start a new life? They called him an “Enemy Alien” and he was sent away to an internment camp during World War II. Yep. Apparently, it wasn’t just the Japanese who were victims of that disgraceful human rights violation. But no one knows about it because no one talks about it!’
    Joe Sr got up. He shook a finger at Blaire Markham. ‘You turn that thing off.’ She nodded and obeyed. He came to me with his eyes filled and reached for the ID. ‘Where did you find that?’
    ‘In one of the boxes way in the back of the attic at the store.’
    ‘I’ve never seen it before.’ He took it, sat back down, and opened it, and in doing so, seemed to open doors that had been shut for both him and Marcella for almost sixty years. They both stared at the pages, tears running down their faces.
    I said, ‘He’s gone now. His story . . . It should be told.’
    ‘What do you care about this family?’ Marcella asked.
    ‘Marcella? This family is my family. You know that. You both do.’
    They stared at me. David came up and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, then placed both of his hands on my shoulders. ‘Ella’s the best thing that’s happened to this family. You’ve said it yourself, Ma.’
    Marcella nodded while she held her hankie to her eyes. Finally she said, ‘February 21, 1942. They took both our fathers. They took my papa in his slippers! They didn’t even let him go inside to put on his shoes.’ Now I understood their admonishment about Zach wearing his slippers.
    Blaire held her pen to the paper but asked Marcella, ‘May I?’ Marcella looked at Joe Sr and said, ‘Not today. Maybe later. But I want to say this. I still remember a sign at the post office. I had just learned to read at school. It said, don’t speak the enemy language! speak american! That’s when we all had to learn English. Even at home, we stopped speaking Italian. We felt guilty.’
    Joe Sr told us that more than six hundred thousand Italian immigrants were under regulations. Many of their homes were raided. ‘They had to stay within five miles of their homes and had an eight p.m. curfew. Like they were children.’ He said that thousands of Italian American coastal residents were relocated and had to find new places to live. The government said they couldn’t be trusted along our coastline. Fishermen lost their livelihood. Some of them came to Elbow.
    ‘Did both your fathers come home unharmed?’ Blaire asked.
    ‘Yes and no,’ Joe Sr said. ‘Papa returned after twenty-three months. But he had lost his bravado. He was quiet. He worked even harder than before. But he never wanted to talk about it.’
    ‘My papa,’ Marcella said, dabbing her already puffy eyes with her handkerchief again. ‘He carried home a heavy shame. Our family was changed for ever. He had once been so proud. Proud of Italia, proud of America. And Joe Sr and I?’ Marcella put her hand on his back and leaned towards us. ‘When we were children, the first words I spoke to him at school were’ – she lowered her voice to a whisper – ‘“Did they take your papa, too?” And he nodded. And that was it. We never talked about it, either. But it’ – she linked her fingers together – ‘it bound us together. Our secret. But now our secret is our curse.’
    ‘My brother,’ Joe Sr said, ‘he died in that war. A man gives his son, but he’s treated like the enemy. And you know what my father did? The Fourth of July, after he was released, he threw the biggest celebration this town had ever seen. That’s what started Elbow’s tradition. He said, “Let them try to call me an enemy. I’ll be the best goddamn patriot this country has ever seen.”’
    David said, ‘You’ve gotta love that. I always thought you and Grandpa decorated for the Fourth with more flourish than any gay man ever has.’
    Marcella leaned against Joe Sr, the tears and sobs taking over. ‘We’re cursed.’
    He stroked her shoulder. ‘Joe Jr, and now Annie and Zach . . .’ Joe Sr’s voice trailed off. His eyes went moist.
    I said, ‘Annie and Zach are not dead.’
    He shook his head. ‘I know, honey. But they’re gone. Taken from us. They used the word custody with our fathers too, taken into custody. And now our government decides this too?’
    We sat in silence. Blaire Markham stood. ‘Clearly, this was bad timing. As far as I’m concerned, everything said here was off the