It's a Living

Each Friday, like a father paying allowance to his daughter, Signore Latini reaches into his dark wool trousers for his wallet. He then meticulously counts the Italian lira (roughly 80 dollars), my week's wages, and politely hands the bills to me. I would be mortified to ask him for money, so I am appreciative that he never fails to pay me.  

Signore Latini, a classic distinguished gentleman, is a scientist. Although he's not working in his field, and instead partners with his New York-born wife on running the American Business School, he's a voracious reader of scientific journals. Since much of what he wants to read is not translated into Italian, he speaks not only impeccable, self-taught English, but is also fluent in Russian. He's never traveled to the U.S. or the Soviet Union.

When he learns one Monday about how my billfold (with the equivalent of 50 dollars in it) was swiftly lifted from my purse on a jam-packed bus, Signore Latini is genuinely sad and sorry. "These thieves we have here" he says, shaking his head, "are despicable." He then shrugs, adding, "But it's a living for them. It's not respectable, but that's how they make their living."