Lockdown Day 12

This is the 12th day of lockdown. I have not yet experienced an epiphany as to why the numbers are not getting any better. There were 5986 new cases yesterday. Cinquemillenovecentoottantasei it would be written here. In the last 5 days new cases have increased from 10% to 20%  per day. The only glimmer of hope is that, also for the last 5 days, each day, cases recovered have outpaced deaths.  That’s a good sign, but it’s all still harrowing. The incubation period is 2 to 14 days, we went into lockdown 11 days ago. Something’s gotta give and I hope it’s soon.  

The vast majority of cases are in the north. The powers that be are screaming that those areas are not sufficiently in compliance with the restrictions. Barga is like a ghost town. I hope it stays that way, figuratively.  Our lovely and effective Mayor is calling us out on being “furbetti,” for finding clever ways of sneaking around.  Now, even the parks are closed. If you want exercise, do it at home, inside, they decree. 

Spring has sprung and so have I. The grass is riz, and the birdies is, which is almost the only thing you hear on this otherwise, and other worldly, silent spring day. With appropriate documentation in hand, I drove out to the house. 

Clear blue sky, not a car on the road. At the house, I washed my car. I love a clean car. Clean cars go faster. Reduced drag coefficient. But really I’m just a firm proponent of, take care of your stuff. Love your stuff. I love my car. It’s 20 years old, the first car I got here. You’re an American you say, how can you do that? It happens. Some of you may also find it heartbreaking that I traded in a 1974 Alfa Romeo Spider, which I’d had shipped from San Francisco. It was worth it. We needed a family car. It’s still in very good condition. And now, it’s going to have to last. Like most things we have right now. 

When the virus is contained, we will need to focus on food, water, shelter, and medical care, not even clothing as most of us probably have enough clothes to see us through another season, at least.  Just the basics. We will need to summon and share all resources to bring everyone through this. The consumer economy, an oxymoron at best, will change. Back to the basics, and rebuild. 

When I finished washing my car, I took a long walk (not in fear of being caught out "a spazio" which I always imagine to mean, lost in space, but really just means out in the open) up to the church at Tiglio Alto, as I used to do when we lived at the house. I didn’t pass a soul, which was not unusual. It was both the beauty and problem with living out there. I’m also no stranger to solitude. 

This fairly simple church has comforted this small community for about 900 years. It has seen worse. A friend reminded me recently that the Black Death of 1348-50 may have killed more than 75% of the Italian population. 

As mentioned, this is a simple church, but it has one feature which leads the Priest to say it was a very important church, perhaps as a pilgrimage site as, sometime afterwards it acquired a pair of lovely, valuable and unusual 14th C. painted marble statues of the Annunciation. 

The Priest, Don Giuseppe Cola, whose motto is simplicity and prayer, and of which he is exemplary, has been the Priest there for 66 years. He carefully maintains several small churches in his parish, each with their own Mass or Feast Day, including, Renaio, Pegnana, Tiglio Basso, Seggiana, and at one time Montebono and Bacchionero. Among these is also a small one room chapel on our property built just after the war, which, when we bought the property had been deconsecrated but he came to see us and offered to help restore it. With the help of other local parishioners it was restored and reconsecrated in 2005. 

The church at Tiglio Alto was also a part of a fortress which was once there. In about 1352, the Lucchesi seized the fortress for its strategic position overlooking the valley. Since it was part Barga and therefore in the domain of Florence, the Florentines came to the rescue and, in the negotiations with Castruccio Castracani (dog castrator, this is such a beautiful and colorful language) and the Antelminelli family of Lucca, Florence regained the post but had to knock down the fortress. Don Cola can still show you its outline inside the bell tower. 

So, the 14th century was an important period there. The Black Death, elegant statuary, the fortress taken and regained. Life goes on. 

As I said goodbye and drove away from the house in my nice clean car, I saluted the hillside blanketed in the perennial periwinkle. Some things never change, and never will, and in that there is hope.