I was part of the Great Migration. No, not from the rural South to the auto plants of Detroit. Not from the Oklahoma Dustbowl to California. Not even from Southern Italy to Little Italy. I was part of the Italian-American migration from Brooklyn to Staten Island to New Jersey. While in Brooklyn, I lived on the fringes of Dyker Heights, so I can state what follows with some authority. Homogeneous communities have gotten a bad rap lately, but maybe the answer isn’t so simple.

Before the Dominicans had Washington Heights, the Italians had Dyker Heights. You hear a lot about Dyker Heights at this time of year. It has to do with the houses being over (and sometimes garishly) illuminated for Christmas. When I was a kid, there were Christmas lights to be sure, but none of those immigrants (or children of immigrants) were likely to waste money on unnecessary electric bills. Tempi cambiano.