The Union

Chris Vincent always knew what he wanted and always remained focused on the prize with purposeful determination. However, he now was trying to rationalize how he was drawn into the trap between the union and the FBI. He uncovered their dark secrets and now would have to choose between loyalty and betrayal. Perhaps it was because he let his guard down and trusted people. Chris was a business savvy computer expert, an over achiever who knew how to get things done. He finally started to make some real money in his own computer software company. He was personally responsible for his success and he knew it. He had never been in any trouble with the law, certainly not until this point, but now he realized he may have to pay the price for success. Chris physically, wore a kind face, was rather handsome, but not in the sense of a film star or athlete. He did not stand out in a crowd but was outgoing and engaging. Short by most standards, he was slim with powerful shoulders, a tanned Italian face wearing a Roman shaped nose that blended perfectly with his manicured chestnut hair and dark brown eyes. The combination was attractive to some and was a clear indication of his Italian descent. Chris knew that being Italian was a positive attribute to some girls but was especially an advantage when dealing with the unions and the labor leaders since most were of Italian descent. His family was among the wave of Italian immigrants who came off the boat from the old country with nothing more than a promise for a better life for their children. Even though his family name had been Americanized from Vincenti to Vincent, there was little doubt about his Italian heritage. Hell, he was a piasani. He was one of them and this meant that he could join their special fraternity of kinship with the union labor leaders. Chris was an Italian American and his persona was the result of a collection of his family’s history and the experiences growing up in America in an Italian American immigrant family. His make-up was not just derived from a culture, but rather from a shared awareness and sensibility of his family’s experiences and their beliefs which were engrained in their Italian roots. He had an inner delight in knowing that he was descended from a culture and a family that shaped his core values and he had learned lessons in life that could not be learned in school. He was the embodiment of the sustaining ideals of an Italian American family. They had grown and descended with each generation into a colorful tapestry of enduring strength that cemented their values and bonded the family together into a common set of core values and inner goodness. He thought about the many hours of hard work, the business trips, the late hours, and the sacrifices he made to establish a successful software business. He gave to his employees and clients much more than they would ever return. He now wondered if it was all worth it. He leaned back in his seat and peered out the window, looking up towards the grey sky, as it slowly rolled in a curtain of cold dark clouds to bring in another cold day in New York City. The train was now gaining some speed as it rolled past the run-down brick buildings in the train yard just over a half-mile south of the station. Most of them were now vacant. The windows were shattered, and he could see that the years had not been kind to the old warehouses and shuttered manufacturing buildings. He could see that the roofs had opened to the unfriendly northeastern weather and in their present state represented little hope of ever returning to a condition of usefulness. The surrounding vegetation of trees, and weeds were slowly invading the building openings and he was saddened when he thought how something so strong and functional would one day turn into a run-down worthless pile of rubble. It was the life cycle for man and machine and mother nature was winning the battle. He thought about the shiny new cars rolling off the Detroit assembly line only to end up thirty years later to be dropped off in a rusty heap at the junk yard. He glanced out the window and could just make out the Albany skyline across the river. They began to disappear towards the rear as the train barreled southward towards New York City. Chris tried to make sense of the events leading up to his troubled state as he questioned the decisions made these last few months. He pondered the choices he would need to make going forward. As a first-generation Italian American and only five feet eight inches tall, he had a powerful presence when he spoke about his company and the software that he had created. He spoke with great sincerity and his clients trusted his judgement. When he said he would do something, he always followed though and delivered on his promises. Chris did what he said he would do and could handle any type of challenge or difficulty. He was analytical and especially good at solving complex problems. However, not this time, he was troubled and his dark skin reflecting his Italian heritage was pale. Small depressions appeared under his dark brown eyes. Slightly wrinkled, one could see that his blank stare reflected his troubled state of mind. His eyes seemed distant from the bright expressions that would normally radiate from his face. His shoulders normally were square and rigid behind his upright and attention like appearance. Now they were rounded and slumped forward and downward. Chris was troubled and concerned about what awaited him once he arrived in the City.