So, you're the son of a Vegas-based FBI agent who's going to elementary school, and you're playing tag during recess with the son of a connected wiseguy. How do you navigate that tangled nexus of intersecting cultural strands? Verrrry carefully, according to this brief piece in the San Diego reader:
“It was a small town then; there were only two public high schools and one small, private high school. It was considered impolite to dwell on what one’s father did. Until you had a deep acquaintanceship you didn’t ask that question. You didn’t go around saying, ‘Oh, his dad is connected,’ or, ‘His granddaddy used to be in Murder Incorporated.’ You didn’t say, ‘My dad is a federal agent,’ or, ‘My dad is a federal marshal.’ It was considered tasteless because the parents might be connected to the mob and the kid might be the cheerleader at your school. She is a nice girl. They live in a nice house. They are nice people. They have you over to swim in their pool. They bring you sandwiches. They tousle your hair. I’m going to school and I’m 13 — I don’t give a shit what other people’s parents do.”
