As a child of immigrant parents, neither of whom graduated from high school, I have often wondered how it was possible that all six of their children graduated from college and earned advanced degrees from some of the best colleges in the country — Harvard, Brown, UC Berkeley, Cornell, Columbia, etc. It certainly wasn’t the public schools we attended. Most of the kids I went to school with in Brentwood, NY, a working class suburb in central Long Island, didn’t go to college at all. Those who did go on to higher education went either to a SUNY school — Albany, Buffalo, New Paltz — or to the local community college. The majority of my peers, however, were thrilled to find a good-paying union job at one of the psychiatric hospitals in the area or at the Entenmann’s factory for which our town was known. My siblings and I were the exceptions in a variety of ways. While my friends ate typical American food  — McDonalds, meat ‘n potatoes, white Wonder bread — we ate the Caribbean food of our parents’ upbringing: rice and beans, curried chicken and goat, and only whole wheat bread (which, to my embarrassment, was used