Yeah, there was a Lebanese Marionite family that ran a local garage and filling station in my town. I always bought gas there on the way into work. During Gulf War I, they were glued to the TV cheering on the US and Bush I. When I had a short circuit in my electrical system I brought it in to them. After about three tries, hundreds of dollars and no success, I brought it over to my current mechanic, who simply rewired the faulty line.
One of the Lebanese brothers got an EE degree from Northeastern, but had trouble finding work. I ran into him selling pizza in one of those medical office condos near Fenway Park, bizzare coincidence. He was a really nice guy, hope it turned out ok for him.
When I lived in Queens, there was a Lebanese Catholic family with five daughters up the block. They and their mother were all amazingly friendly. (Yes, what you’re thinking.) The father, who was estranged from his wife, ran a service station on Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn. I had a conversation with him about the business. In sum, his business ethics were appalling. Basically, he said you had to f*** the people.
Wow,you really are lonely up there in the peoples republic...I was born in South Weymouth,moved away in early ‘60’s...Later in life.when driving up to New Hampshire to visit family,I felt like the drive across Mass. was like running across East Germany to make it to Berlin.