Many Italians and Sicilians feel we are a strange lot. We want more out of life but feel as if it has left us behind no matter what we believe or pursue. The question of what is truth is the base of our dilemma. Why are we so loving and kind one minute and, without warning, so curt and sharp the next, especially to those closest to us? How is it we are so joyful, a delight of fun and gaiety, but just as morose and despondent? Our family history is filled with gaps that may otherwise answer, aWhy am I like this?a During the journey of discovery, perhaps many of our inner struggles will be solved. Can such pursuit take anything away from us? Someone once said, aI did not know I was color-blind until I learned to drive.a Mine is to get into the driveras seat of my heritage.