ABSTRACT
I t was the summer of 1954. . . . The letters from Europe with news of death had long since been tied with bits and pieces of satin ribbon and put away in perfumed drawers where they could detonate softly. There was nothing more for the Levi fam ily to fear. Those they had lost in the war were lost forever, and they, who had gotten on boats to Cuba and created families on
this island, had grown strong and prospered. They had prospered enough to have black women like myself and my sister Tere work in their households.
