Three Things I Know to be True

I'm keeping it simple right now.
In this whirlwind getting ready to travel
I'm down to basics- what
do I know? It's this: the pull
of family tugs harder as I get older.
The desire to be together with them
is a physical yearning. And,
I'm in awe of John who
easily organizes the most complex
of itineraries and writes the lists
that get all the last minute things
done. These three things
I know to be true.

Seems like it should be more.
I miss writing
more and reading blogs
that have become important to me.
But here I am, preparing to travel
six time zones to be with my family
and it's all I can manage.

I leave today for a month in the states and have been struck at how much time, effort, planning and energy expenditure happens before ever leaving. I hope to post photos of the high points of our stay, maybe even get the grands involved in documenting our time together. I'm eager...

Seize and Savor

Vacations these days mean time carved
with daughter and the grands
and sometimes just the grands.
Suits me now since they, too, want this.
Time will come when they won't,

so seize and savor is my motto.
Seize time with them, savor them
each time. Know that change
comes on any random day
and the chance is gone.

This is in response to Words Count with Mama Zen's prompt over at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads to write about vacations in less than 60 words. Her timing is remarkable since I leave in 7 days on vacation to join my daughter and two grands for 3 1/2 weeks (2 of those with just the grands) in Florida. Time to seize and savor.

Boston, Princesses, and Brave Heroines

“I believe that one can never leave home. I believe that one carries the shadows, the dreams, the fears and the dragons of home under one's skin, at the extreme corners of one's eyes and possibly in the gristle of the earlobe.”

                                                               (Maya Angelou- from her book: Letter to My Daughter)


My home coordinates lie in Boston.
History and the sea set the backdrop
that grew me up.
The sea fed me
as father brought home fresh catch from Boston's docks since fish was cheaper than meat
and lobster was called poor man's food back then. Fed me in other ways, too,
having more to do
with things mulled, decided, wanted
while watching its rhythms. A gentle teacher, a harsh
teacher, a strict teacher in immutable laws learned
through osmosis and frequent contact. History was repeated
each grade, at home, museums and trails toured
often, father and teachers as tour guides. Birthplace
of the Nation, central to all that came to be. Growing
up poor in Boston set one scenario absorbed early and uncensored at subliminal levels.
Moving later to an affluent area set another and stood in contrast
even to my child mind. The wrench of a ten year old moving from scores
of playmates in a housing project, the freedom of unlimited places to go, people to watch,
things to do. Suburbs look nicer but restrict playmates and places, set up
different expectations. On me. Quit being a scrapper, be a lady. Ladylike prescribed
by the catholic school I went to and the unmarried aunts with whom I lived. A starker
contrast to the Boston housing project is hard to imagine. I never judged the projects harsh,
simply my world. I felt at home. A world rich in colorful folks who knew
how to take care of themselves
and business. Fought for what they thought was right. Or to protect. Fought a lot. Taught
me to fight. I'm not talking figuratively here but physically. Real fights, vanquishing evil fights.
Or so it seemed. I had no time for fairy tale princesses in those days, before Brave,
even with red hair, freckles and Scottish ancestry. But Merida would have been my heroine,
my kind of gal - a wild, witches consulting, shooting arrows at enemies, all in, redefining,
no limits just because we're girls,
fully alive on her own terms kind of gal.





This is in response to Mary over at dVerse Poets who asked us to write about with a Disney theme way back on Saturday but which I missed. So I'm doing it for open link Tuesday since it really got me thinking.

Some Things That Happened in June

New plants on the balcony with clouds sitting on them.

Lunch with good friends to celebrate a birthday.

A new tablecloth with colors of the Italian countryside to brighten the balcony.

A new (to us) view of Cittá Sant'Angelo, our fair city

A new home for the bougainvillea so it can eventually tumble over the railing

New scents mingling on our balcony from new placement of jasmine, lavender and rosemary in proximity

Herbs and hot peppers thriving on the other end of the balcony. The basil is post- harvesting of two huge batches for pesto.

An old olive tree with new trim for its leaves located not far from our house.

Discovering new places with an old friend in Luxembourg Gardens, Paris.

Post- pruning magnificence of the coleus and its myriad colors.

New blooms on the plant who loves the light if not the sun and lives indoors next to the french doors.

I'm marveling at and enjoying the abundance of summer in my little corner of the world. How about you?

L'Aquila Four Years Later

L'Aquila, the capital of Abruzzo, where I live, experienced a 5.8 earthquake in 2009 . The epicenter was close to this ancient and beautiful city and left 300 dead and 40,000 homeless as well as a devastated city center that remains closed to residents to this day. It's hard to imagine how large and elegant L'Aquila was and the extent of the disaster for residents, students at he university and for the economy of the province. Then Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi vowed to reconstruct this vital city in six months. Four years later, the only work done is the placement of scaffolding around the buildings.

On a recent visit I marveled at some intact structures or facades while all around was damaged.

There's a heartbreaking photo posted of some of the caskets from a joint funeral.

And handwritten notes left by former patrons on the door of a favorite cafe now closed.

One of the churches had scaffolding on the inside as well and was open to visitors.

It's hard to grasp the enormity of the loss of this capital, this historical and cultural center, this educational and commercial center. It's hard to see it left in this state of abeyance. It has the third largest piazza in Italy as just one of its many piazzas and elegant buildings and villas among its historic places.

Tours are now given to witness the devastation. I could see glimpses into houses, their doors ajar with dishes on the table and photos on the shelves. Residents have not been allowed back. Lives suspended.

There's no shortage of finger pointing to assign blame in the lack of progress in reconstruction. But it's the more personal side of this enormous loss that was evident at every turn. This large and formerly lovely city, the province's capital, with no people. Add this to the strangely elaborate scaffolding and it was eerie and profoundly unsettling.

Into The Mountains

This past weekend was too perfect not to travel to see new vistas so when my Honey and I were invited by friends to a luncheon up in the mountains about an hour and a half from where we live, I jumped at the chance. A tiny village in the Majella Mountains called San Lorenzo di Beffi was our destination. The drive was glorious and we made frequent stops to admire the views.

The last remnants of snow were visible in the rock crevices.

The restaurant of the Inn which was our destination stayed cool naturally as it was located downstairs in an ancient building now remodeled but with its characteristically vaulted stone ceilings intact.

The Inn itself is called La Corte Locanda (The Court Inn) and the original structure was built in the 1700's.

We decided to stay the night and enjoy the lovely grounds and warm hospitality of our hosts as well as the company of our good friends who also stayed over. Next morning we enjoyed the pool and the sun.

The property had many little spots to catch some shade since the day was hot even in the mountains.

We walked around the area and saw first hand the damage done to local buildings in the last big L'Aquila earthquake in 2009 (just before we moved here). The Inn had been renovated a few years previous to it so it wasn't damaged but their neighbors are mostly gone and homes abandoned or unoccupied with scaffolding around them. The Inn and restaurant have been seriously impacted nonetheless since people in the surrounding area comprised a large part of their business.

It was such a relaxing interlude that it felt longer than a day and a half. I came back refreshed and appreciative of my home in this little corner of the world but more aware of how long the earthquake recovery is taking.

Cittá Sant'Angelo, My Fair City

http://youtu.be/c5xMDZVjrGM

To enjoy on this summer Sunday- a video by Bruno Rugiere with scenes from my lovely, medieval town, Cittá Sant'Angelo in Abruzzo, Italy.

Home from Paris

The delights of Paris this trip:

Time with long- term friends, including time to talk about our contribution as elders. We're chatting and laughing at the amusing directions being given by the friend of the woman talking the photo for us.

Roses in bloom everywhere to make Paris even more gorgeous.

Special treats that we savored to mark the sweetness of the occasion.

A Vivaldi concert in a beautiful church with amazing acoustics. It brought my friend to tears.

Two art exhibits (Chagal and Boudin) in separate and lovely venues.

This is the reason I wanted to live in Italy- the opportunity to go to places where I and my friends want to visit. The combination of beauty, history, music and art fills me up and grows me as an elder by expanding my world view and awareness. To share all this with friends since the 80's who can check in at deeper levels, is rare and altogether satisfying.