by Karen Gravano

My first 2）inkling that my family was different came when I was six and found a gun hidden under my dads bed. I knew hed served in Vietnam and assumed it was from then. I even told friends how proud I felt： my father， the brave soldier.

A teacher overheard me talking about the gun and quietly mentioned it to my parents. Dad told me， “What goes on in our family stays behind these walls. We dont ever talk about it to anyone else.” I remember wondering why it was such a big secret， but it didnt feel strange； it was just the way we did things.我六歲的時(shí)候，開始略微察覺到我的家庭與別人的有所不同，我發(fā)現(xiàn)父親的床底下藏著一把槍。我知道他曾在越南服過役，所以，我認(rèn)為這把槍是那時(shí)候留下來的。我甚至告訴我的朋友們我有多自豪：我的父親，是一名勇敢的戰(zhàn)士。

一位老師偶然聽到我談?wù)摌尩氖?，之后，她把這件事告訴了我父母。父親告訴我：“家里發(fā)生的事只能在家里講。我們不能和別人說。”我記得當(dāng)時(shí)我很不解，這又不是什么大秘密，但這也并不奇怪；我們家一向都是這么處事的。

We were a very traditional ItalianAmerican family. My father， Salvatore Gravano， worked in construction， while my mother was a housewife and looked after my brother Gerard and me. Home was in Staten Island， surrounded by friends and family. Everyone knew my dad， and even as a young child I could sense he was important. When he entered a room， the energy changed. People would rush over to shake his hand and kiss his cheek. He made time for them all， lending money and buying them groceries if they were struggling.

One day， when I was about 10， Dad sat me down in the kitchen. He told me I would probably start hearing some things about his life and he wanted to explain it in the best way he knew how. He told me some men in Italy had formed a secret group and vowed always to protect each other and their families—even if it meant stealing or hurting other people. Then he told me he was part of that same group here in America. It didnt sound scary to me—it was nice to know we were being looked after.

As the years passed， Dads business grew. We moved to a bigger house in an expensive suburb and I went to a private school. Mostly it was the children of wealthy lawyers， doctors and businessmen. Thats when I began to realise how different we were. For a start， Dad didnt look like the other fathers. He had tattoos on his arms， wore flashy jewellery and swore a lot. But I didnt find it awkward—I thought he was cool.

我們是一個(gè)相當(dāng)傳統(tǒng)的意大利裔美國家庭。我的父親叫塞爾瓦托·戈拉瓦諾，從事建筑行業(yè)，而我母親是家庭主婦，在家里照顧弟弟杰勒德和我。我們家在史泰登島，附近住的都是親戚朋友。所有人都認(rèn)識我父親，就算是我很小的時(shí)候，我也感覺得到他很重要。當(dāng)他走進(jìn)房間時(shí)，整個(gè)氣氛都會(huì)發(fā)生變化。人們會(huì)擠上前來和他握手，親吻他的臉頰。他總會(huì)為所有人都騰出時(shí)間來，如果他們生活艱難，父親會(huì)借錢給他們或者為他們購置一些生活用品。