Two encounters as Simi and I strolled along this morning:
The first person we met was Luca, the eldest son of my kind friends, Marco and Giovanna. I don’t bump into him often, as he is usually away at university, but when I do he always has a hug for me and some kind words for Simi. I avoid exclaiming, “Haven’t you grown?!” but admit it is what I think: Marco and Giovanna have a brood of 4 boys, but when I first came to Sicily there was just Luca and his brother Piero, whilst Giovanna was expecting the third baby. It was in Marco and Giovanna’s house that I first stayed and Luca, then 11 years old, was the sweetest child. He was always eager to tell me about Modica, helping his father show me around and he became very protective of me. Every time I see him I still feel that that protectiveness is there and it makes me feel warm inside. During that first visit, I took to calling Luca “my little gentleman”, a title which delighted him and his parents, whilst Piero became “my other little gentleman”. I visited the family again soon after baby number 3, Andrea, was born, so then they all became “the little gentlemen and the tiny gentleman”. And for years after that, I’d write in my Christmas card, “Per Marco, Giovanna e tutti i 'little gentlemen' ”. Now I don’t go a bundle on babies, not because I don’t like them but because, never having had one, I’m scared of them as I don’t know what you’re supposed to do around them. But Andrea was different: he never cried, had the most wonderful smile, would clutch at my hand and I would coo, “beautiful baby” to him, over and over again. When I left Sicily that second time it was as though I had a premonition of the tragedy that would soon occur in my own life, for I cried when I said goodbye to Andrea and I remember thinking, “I wonder what will have happened to everybody before I see him again?” Not long after that, my mother died and when, at Marco’s request, I sent the family a copy of what I had said at her funeral, he told me that Luca had read it and cried. I was so touched by that but explained to Luca on the phone that my mother loved children and she wouldn’t have wanted him to cry for her. She’d have wanted him to be happy and enjoy all that his young life offered and she’d have liked him very much because he had been so nice to me. Luca and Piero are “big gentlemen” now but in my heart they will always be the “little gentlemen” I met the first time I came to Sicily.
Our second encounter was with a gentleman who works over the road in one of the comune offices [the same man who dishes out the flattery whenever I’m wearing blue, for some reason]. Obviously on holiday, for he was very casually dressed, he was standing outside the locked gate to his place of work and acknowledging nearly all the drivers that passed. At least every other one slowed down or stopped, beeped at him and shouted a few words of greeting, not caring if they caused a gridlock behind them and my acquaintance accepted all this as his due, beaming and reminding me, in his demeanour, of no one so much as Prince Philip taking the salute of his wife’s soldiers. “Look, look, signora!”, he cried: “They all know me and greet me. It’s the rispetto, you see.” Well, that’s one way of enjoying your holiday!
The first person we met was Luca, the eldest son of my kind friends, Marco and Giovanna. I don’t bump into him often, as he is usually away at university, but when I do he always has a hug for me and some kind words for Simi. I avoid exclaiming, “Haven’t you grown?!” but admit it is what I think: Marco and Giovanna have a brood of 4 boys, but when I first came to Sicily there was just Luca and his brother Piero, whilst Giovanna was expecting the third baby. It was in Marco and Giovanna’s house that I first stayed and Luca, then 11 years old, was the sweetest child. He was always eager to tell me about Modica, helping his father show me around and he became very protective of me. Every time I see him I still feel that that protectiveness is there and it makes me feel warm inside. During that first visit, I took to calling Luca “my little gentleman”, a title which delighted him and his parents, whilst Piero became “my other little gentleman”. I visited the family again soon after baby number 3, Andrea, was born, so then they all became “the little gentlemen and the tiny gentleman”. And for years after that, I’d write in my Christmas card, “Per Marco, Giovanna e tutti i 'little gentlemen' ”. Now I don’t go a bundle on babies, not because I don’t like them but because, never having had one, I’m scared of them as I don’t know what you’re supposed to do around them. But Andrea was different: he never cried, had the most wonderful smile, would clutch at my hand and I would coo, “beautiful baby” to him, over and over again. When I left Sicily that second time it was as though I had a premonition of the tragedy that would soon occur in my own life, for I cried when I said goodbye to Andrea and I remember thinking, “I wonder what will have happened to everybody before I see him again?” Not long after that, my mother died and when, at Marco’s request, I sent the family a copy of what I had said at her funeral, he told me that Luca had read it and cried. I was so touched by that but explained to Luca on the phone that my mother loved children and she wouldn’t have wanted him to cry for her. She’d have wanted him to be happy and enjoy all that his young life offered and she’d have liked him very much because he had been so nice to me. Luca and Piero are “big gentlemen” now but in my heart they will always be the “little gentlemen” I met the first time I came to Sicily.
Our second encounter was with a gentleman who works over the road in one of the comune offices [the same man who dishes out the flattery whenever I’m wearing blue, for some reason]. Obviously on holiday, for he was very casually dressed, he was standing outside the locked gate to his place of work and acknowledging nearly all the drivers that passed. At least every other one slowed down or stopped, beeped at him and shouted a few words of greeting, not caring if they caused a gridlock behind them and my acquaintance accepted all this as his due, beaming and reminding me, in his demeanour, of no one so much as Prince Philip taking the salute of his wife’s soldiers. “Look, look, signora!”, he cried: “They all know me and greet me. It’s the rispetto, you see.” Well, that’s one way of enjoying your holiday!
8 comments:
Lovely post Welshcakes. I always see how much more gentlemanly these young Italians are in comparison with the North American young men. I even failed somewhat with my own son, since the influence of the society, or actually of their peers is often greater than the parental influence, sad to say.
Do you think the fellow from the comune didn't want to be on vacation but had to hang out where he worked?
This was an enjoyable post. Very nice, dear lady.
Thanks, jmb. I'm sure you didn't fail with your son! I don't think the comune man wanted to be on hols at all! Glad you enjoyed it, Steve.
Wonderful descriptions of equally wonderful people....:)
Did you say to him: "Do you like your rattle?"
Thanks, Lee. I never thought of that, James. I should have!
What lovely young men they must all be. No wonder you moved out to Sicily.
Hi, Liz. Yes, they are lovely. but let's not forget that around all tourist sites, there are those who just wait for you to arrive so that they can pick your pocket. But that is the same all over the world.
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