Mother was brought up with a french Nanny & Nonna Emma not allowed by her Steel Railroad-tie-enterprising husband Giulio to sing in public. Dad never forgot his father Felix telling him Nazi Germany was not good enough for him. When the Holocaust dispersed us, Italian exit visas came first, Germans with difficulty, we  three females arrived in early 1939 to a shyster lawyer not vouching us off our ship. Dad escaped 18 months later. Each had exquisite wits to sopravivere, a word non-existent in ‘America’, meaning more than survive, rise to highest order of competence despite all odds. Think ‘The Garden of the Fintzi Contini’, our 7th cousins not as fortunate as we were. Mom adapted, while grandfather Felix died of a broken Heart, his home and garage business occupied by the Nazi’s.  Returning to his grave  impossibly, as the Jewish cemetery no longer had maps, I found my grandfather’s casket under vines, mezuzah toppled, & two four leaf clovers at head  & foot.