The writer is a contributing columnist, based in Chicago
His name was Jimmy. No, wait a minute: Matthew. Well, actually, Amedeo. My grandfather went by many names.
Like many Italian immigrants in one of the greatest generations of European-American migration, he didn’t care what anyone called him: he just cared that all 4ft 10in of him made it to Ellis Island on the German steamship “Berlin”, eight weeks before the first world war began in 1914.
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