Sophia: When I was 14 in Sicily, my father arranged a marriage with a neighbor's son. My dowry was two chickens, a ladle and a goat to be named later.
Dorothy: We came from a wealthy family.
Sophia: But the day of my wedding, as I stood at the altar, the boy I was to marry was on a cattle boat headed for America. That night, on a tear-stained pillow, I put a curse on him.
Rose: A curse?
Sophia: Nothing fancy. I remember I said, "Giuseppe Mangiacavallo, from this day forward, may you and all your future generations never know true love. May you be sterile, and may all your offspring be sterile. May your hair never lie flat, and may your socks always slip down inside your shoes."