08/23/1999 Today was the day that Sacco and Vanzetti were executed in Massachusetts. That was almost 80 years ago. This is one of the few lessons I still remember from AP History. I remember Mrs. Gerber, a small, birdlike woman who told stories that humanized her subject, standing in front of the class with her hands lightly pressed together quoting someone, I believe it was the governor. He said, "I want those guinea bastards dead." The word guinea is an ethnic slur against Italians, brother to the words "WOP" (which stands for "Without Passport") and "goomba." No doubt someone used those words on my Neapolitan great-grandfather. And they probably used the words "mic" and "paddy" to describe other members of my family tree. Aside from being Italian in a WASP-controlled country, Sacco and Vanzetti were also anarchists. Strike two. I don't know if there's a strike three. Maybe they were lovers and that just never made it into the media. Maybe there was no strike three. There's no strike three! Regardless, they were put to death for a crime they did not commit. Fifty-seven years later, Massachusetts governor Michael Dukakis (remember him? The Greek who would be President?) vindicated them. Woo hoo. Too bad it didn't happen before the march to the electric chair. In other news, I went to a big company picnic this weekend. They really did it up nice for us. Makes me glad to be an employee, despite all my kvetching and moaning, I really couldn't work with a nicer bunch of people. I just hope that I can find a situation as peachy up in Boston. Some people advised me to keep my plans to move in with Quick to myself, to lie, to say I plan on being with this company for a long, long time. But I'm bad at keeping secrets (in case you haven't gathered that from the contents of this journal). And more importantly, it just didn't feel right to me. Ethically, I mean. I know they'll be sorry to see me go, and I also know they're grateful I gave them enough notice to hire a replacement. If only there were some way I could live in Boston and work in New Haven. Ach, this may be a smaller planet, what with interstates and the Net and all, but it's not that small yet. Disclaimer: Characters in this "journal" are fictitious. Any similarity to actual people is purely in your head. If you got here via some search engine, then you're only seeing half the picture. © 1999 Frances Donovan, upon threat of bad karma. All rights reserved.