Overcast

the bells were ringin

the swallows were goin nuts

out of the tub gone 

Lockdown Observations

 

I have lived in Italy for 20 years. I am conversant but not fluent. To be fluent one must be able to pick up on the subtleties, the contextual complexities of a language, the deep linguistic associations which have much more to do with cultural assimilation than just grammatical correctness. 

I teach English to Italian corporate professionals. It has been one of the most delightful experiences of my life. When I arrived in Europe 27 years ago, though it was an option, I did not want to teach English, since English meant British English, and that was not an option for me, an American. As the years progressed there has developed more need for American english, as we all communicate cyber-globally. And, as I sometimes tease my British friends, there is more diversity in the English language amongst those in the British Isles, than there is between an American and a Brit. The current pandemic reality has rapidly changed the way we work and communicate on a daily basis and normalized online opportunities heretofore unnecessary.  

My Italian english students, as the general populace here, are astute listeners, and very articulate, which may be the result of their educational system which requires oral exams in every subject up to and including advanced mathematics. Imagine having to explain your trigonometric process in front of a panel of exigent professors, and you’ll know how they have had to develop communications skills. Articulate, astute listeners with compassionate sensibilities. In any conversation they respond with appropriate observations, sympathetic and compassionate pleasantries. 

Despite having studied French and German, I still have problems recognizing certain syntactical elements on the spot. My students often clarify grammatical issues with their knowledge of Latin. Oh, it’s totally clear now! One must be an astute listener, and observer, to pick up on the subtleties. 

It’s all in the syntax. There is a certain syntax, it all comes down to that. It is complex. In italian the pronoun is inherent in the verb. You don’t need the I, you, he/she/it, we, etc.,  it is included, which is exquisitely efficient and totally confusing. The subject-object-indirect object relationship is a complex puzzle. In the simplest example, the object precedes the subject, ti vedo: I see you. It’s what I call the subject-object conundrum, in other words, who’s doing what to whom. It could be a metaphor.

 

 

Lockdown Redux: Next Year in Jerusalem

On this splendid Easter Sunday in Northern Tuscany I will spend the day in quiet contemplation as I look out on the Apuan Alps and down onto a small magnolia in full bloom in the stone piazza below. Due to pandemic restrictions my son is unable to travel home from University and like others I will pass Easter alone, or some, in only immediate family groups. 

I was raised on the east coast of the U.S., primarily in the northeast but also throughout the southeast. That we are a nation of immigrants is undeniable. The regions of the northeast and southeast of the first settlers, (Jamestown, VA. 1607, Plymouth, MA. 1620) are thriving areas of diversity. 

In the mid 20th century northeast my childhood friends and neighbors were a predominantly western/southern and central european multiethnic group and I often joke that the reason I ended up in Italy is that most of my grade school friends were Italian, citing names of Belletti, Porcari, Campion, Bazzano, John Joseph Raymond, (anglicized from Giovane Giusseppe Raimondo) and Palazzolo, the spelling of which, I was told and will remain forever in my mind, is: 2 of everything except the P. 

A citizen of relative long term heritage of18th century Scottish/German and early 20th century Irish descent I was always welcomed into their homes, and became familiar with their history and cultural traditions. 

My fondest memories include after school lunch of tempestine in brodo, dot pasta in homemade broth, served by my friend’s Grandmother, as her parents both worked, in their small immaculate suburban home filled with all their treasured and comforting religious icons.  

We have now spent over a year in various degrees of lockdown isolation in an effort to keep this pandemic virus at bay and in addition to the tragic illness and loss of lives, the most difficult part is not being able to see family and friends which is most evident in holiday periods. The impact, and toll this has taken, on our emotional state is immeasurable. 

As a young adult, back at University in the northeast, from several years in the deep south, my close friends were Jewish. I was invited to their homes at the Jersey Shore over long weekends, as a break from campus life, which brings to mind sensory memories of their wonderful food and once again, traditions. 

The final  words of the traditional passover Seder during this spring period,  are “next year in Jerusalem” a message of comfort, solidarity and hope for the future. A universal sentiment we can all benefit from in these difficult times, the hope that we will be together in the future, wherever we are.

 

Love Making He Called It

 

As he seduced 

A series 

Of unsuspecting lovers

Playing his part perfectly

Laying it on thick

The charm

The courting

The flattery

The romanticism

The enigma

He bedded each

In their turn

Finally

She realized

He knew

It is just an act

Lockdown Part 2: The Year of Living Languidly

The Year of Living Languidly 

The Queen, dubbed 1992 her Annus Horribilis. Little did she know how much worse things could get.

On a wild hair, early in the morning in early February of this year I hopped on the train from Barga to Pisa to take in the last day of the Futurism exhibit at Palazzo Blu,  a stunning comprehensive show of an avant-garde Art movement documenting enormous global changes.  111 years, almost to the day, after the Italian poet Filippo Tommaso Marinetti published his Manifesto of Futurism in La gazzetta dell’Emilia, The Futurismo show at Palazzo Blu presented a panorama of its themes documenting global changes, the impact of the industrial revolution, early aeronautics, and man vs. machines, in all of its glory and destructiveness, pandemics notwithstanding. 

There was also a small permanent exhibit of the splendid 17th C. Italian painter Artemisia Gentileschi, not to be missed. Her groundbreaking and gender defying work is only now being shown collectively and appreciated fully as represented by the exhibit at the National Gallery in London, which was planned for this past spring but postponed until its planned opening beginning 2 December, all things being well.  A documentary, entitled Warrior Paintress, of her life and work has just been released by Jordan River of Delta Star Pictures.

After picnicking and people watching in a piazza near the station I caught another train for Viareggio to catch the magnificent Carnevale Parade and its monumental floats of monstrous global social themes from corrupt politicians to gender inequality, technological mayhem and climate change. 

It was a gloriously clear winter day as is often the case in February and news of the Coronavirus was just beginning to spread and I wondered if it had been wise to be in such a crowded environment but it wasn’t, in fact, as crowded as It had been in past years. 

That was just about my last outing as not only the news but also the reality of the coronavirus began to spread soon afterwards. By late February rumors of a lockdown period began to spread as well and by early March we were indeed confined to our homes with increasingly strict regulations which ultimately resulted in a full lockdown including businesses.  

As the virus spread so did the despair. The spring passed listlessly inventing indoor activities or staring out the window. Most developed a coping strategy. The nadir included on March 21 watching television footage of Army vehicles transporting coffins from Bergamo, but Barga was spared the worst. 

In early May we were released but masks became the norm. Summer passed calmly and quietly. In early June expats with homes here could return and many did, by car. Flights to Pisa and Florence resumed in early July and more people arrived. The low key unhurried atmosphere picked up a little in August when there were successful socially distanced events throughout the summer including Barga Jazz in a new delightful outdoor venue at Villa Gherardi and Opera Barga ingeniously adapting the area above Piazza San Felice. Things almost seemed back to normal, or at least the new normal, masks, hygiene routines and hope. 

As the summer came to an end the virus began to spread once more, resulting in a new partial lockdown in mid November. Once again the days pass inventing indoor projects, on the internet or languidly staring out the window, fortunately out on a splendid cold clear November. On the bright side there is hope on the horizon, things will get better and the best thing we can say is that there is a future to look forward to, and a show and documentary on Artemisia Gentileschi. 

 

Lockdown Part 2, Day minus 1

It’s mid-November already. The leaves have cycled through their kaleidoscope of colors and now the trees in the Apuane Alps and Apennine mountains here in northwest Tuscany are mostly bare. The hillsides gray. The sidewalks, where the leaves had fallen and lay to rustle through and conjure deep scent memories, have been cleaned. The weather is still mild, thankfully. Today the inimitable blue Tuscan sky is promising.

Today we begin a second lockdown period. Reflecting on the first, there were pluses and minuses, advantages and disadvantages, and here are some with their corollaries.

- I don’t have to worry about missing or being late for any appointments, there are none.

- I don’t have to worry about missing or being late for any appointments, there are none.

- I don’t have to worry about housekeeping too much as no one is coming to see me. 

- I don’t have to worry about housekeeping too much as no one is coming to see me. 

- I don’t have to worry about clothes, hair, make-up, nails, because no one will see me.

- I don’t have to worry about clothes, hair, make-up, nails, because no one will see me.

- I can stare out the window at the birds without worrying if I’m wasting time.

- I can stare out the window at the birds without worrying if I’m wasting time.

- I can do all those projects, clean the garage/attic, because there is nowhere else to go.

- I can do all those projects, clean the attic/garage, because there is nowhere else to go.

- I can start postponed projects not worrying about any deadlines.

- I can start postponed projects not worrying about any deadlines.

- I can read all the books on the nightstand without interruption.

- I can read all the books on the nightstand without interruption.

- I can linger in the bath because I don’t have any appointments or dates.

- I can linger in the bath because I don’t have any appointments or dates.

- With so much time on my hands and nowhere to go I can virtually keep in touch with everyone.

November 15, 2020

- With so much time on my hands and nowhere to go I can virtually keep in touch with everyone.

- We can still go for walks, albeit alone.

- We can still go for walks, albeit alone.

In short, we’re all going to make the most of a very difficult situation. 

Take Care

 

Those Damn Birds

 

They’re having a ball

Dancing

Doing loop de loops 

Do-si-dos

Circling 

Chasing each other

Swooping

Squealing 

Screeching

Squawking

Sending signals crosstown

All those things that birds do

At 4 AM

A regular riot at 5:30

Without a care in the world

As I am just 

Trying to get back to sleep

Those damn birds

They’re having a ball