My grandfather had four brothers, of which he was the youngest. The brother who is the center of most family tales is not the oldest; but is definitely the most feared. His name was Blaze...or Benny for short.
People in the family love to tell "Uncle Benny" stories. Like the time he was out of town to Chicago and forgot to bring his razor, so he went a few days without shaving. He decided to take a walk at nighttime, and (Chicago being the center of crime that it was - we're talking the times of Al Capone), the cops arrested him for "looking suspicious". That's my Uncle Benny.
My grandfather, whom I adoringly call my Papa, is possibly the most interesting character in my family. This may be hard to believe if you've ever met his wife, aka my Nana. At first glance he may seem as equally polite and kind-hearted, yet perhaps a bit more timid and shy than his "better half"; but upon speaking with him, you would find yourself amazed at the adventures he has been on and the stories he has to tell.
As an Italian-American living in New York, I've come to find that; though I may not be "right off the boat", I still have deep-rooted Italian traditions that serve as a basis for my everyday life. In actuality, I'm completely Sicilian and not Italian at all (that I know of). However, if you know your history, then you know that the Kingdom of Sicily is ruled by Italy, so I guess you could call me Italian. I don't mind it, though some Sicilians do.