|Peasant women making bread together.|
Saturday, April 21, 2018
One of worst slaughters of civilians in World War 2 depicted with realism in 2010 film "L'uomo che Verrà"
The film L'uomo che Verrà (The Man Who Will Come) makes no sense. Who lives and dies has nothing to do with fairness, justice, compassion, humanity. Yet it is utterly and ruthlessly real. If it lacks sense, that’s only because the slaughters of Italian civilians at the hands of the German army and secret service can hardly be explained with any sense of logic.
I’ve read about the mass killings at Sant’Anna di Stazzema (560 killed August 12, 1944) and the Padule di Fucecchio (175 killed August 23, 1944), both of which occurred in Tuscany, near the birthplace of my grandparents. But the Strage di Marzabotto, a slaughter which took place from September 29 to October 5 in the vicinity of Monte Sole, claimed even more lives—at least 775—in an attack so brutal and crude that makes one question how humankind has managed to survive this long.
L'uomo che verrà portrays a series of events that go from the winter of 1943 until September 1944 in the Bolognese Apennines. At the center is a family of farmers, which includes Armando Palmieri, his wife Lena and their only daughter Martina, as well as a group of relatives living in the same house. The story is seen mostly through the eyes of Martina, who moves through the scenes almost like a fantasma. She’s 8 years old and hasn’t spoken since her baby brother died her arms a few years before.
In December 1943 Lena becomes pregnant again. As the months pass, the film does a superb job of depicting the everyday life of this community of peasant farmers. Meanwhile, the child grows in Lena’s belly while the signs of war become increasingly evident and disturbing. Some Italian defectors appear, a family from Bologna arrives to escape the bombing of the city and the partisans form a brigade to protect the community and harass the Germans.
And then the first signs of violence and death appear. In the night between 28 and 29 September 1944, the baby finally comes to light, just when the German secret service launches an unprecedented raid, slaughtering civilians in houses, churches, a cemetery and in the streets. Afterwards the Germans are shown in houses of survivors, drinking, laughing and celebrating their victory over what they label in their reports as bandits.
Somehow Martina survives despite being among a group machine-gunned by soldiers. In the final scenes, she runs into the woods to gather up her baby brother, who apparently is the man to whom the title refers. The film ends with her singing him a lullaby, her speech apparently recovered.
There is a small attempt to explain the unexplainable—that is, how such a thing could happen. In one scene, an Italian priest and a German officer converse in the German’s office. He comments in a matter-of-fact manner: “Tutti noi siamo quello c’e’ hanno insegnato di essere. E’ un questione di educazione.” We are all as we were taught to be. It’s a matter of education.
This harsh truth seems so simple, so blunt, and yet so inadequate. But this movie is not about justice, fairness or the way things should be. It just shows what was, offering only the hope that bringing to light the events at Marzabotto will help deter a future reoccurrence.
Friday, April 20, 2018
Thanks to recent research and archeological discoveries, the Roman roots of Lucca are gradually becoming clearer—and known to the public. The latter is partly thanks to the passion of history buffs like Lucca native Elena Benvenuti.
Elena recently organized and directed a tour of more than 40 people to explore Roman artifacts and explain the influence that Roman society had on Lucca. Once inhabited by Etruscans, Lucca became a Roman colony in 180 BC. The Romans built a walled city with streets in a grid pattern, complete with an amphitheater used for gladiatorial battles, a theater for music and drama, a large forum and fancy homes for wealthy government officials.
|Remnants of the Roman blocks at one of|
the entrances to the Antiteatro of Lucca.
Elena showed our tour group a Roman sarcophagus in Palazzo Pfanner and pointed out pieces of Roman walls of the amphitheater and theater before taking us to the Domus Romana, the remains of an important building from the first century before Christ. The home is now known as the “Casa del Fanciullo sul Delfino,” a name that comes from the drawing of two cupids riding on a dolphin in a frieze that was found in the house. The house was discovered during the restoration of the Orsucci Palace in the summer of 2010, and now the site is a museum. The group watched a documentary video on the uncovering of the ancient domus, at which site a Roman coin was also found, helping archaeologists date the ruins.
|Caesar and Pompey drink a toast to the plans they made at the First Triumvirate, which was held in Lucca, probably close to this very location in the Domus Romana. The meeting was re-enacted by local students for our tour group.|
From the writings of Plutarch, it is known that Lucca was the site of a secret high-level meeting between Caesar, Pompey and Crassus in 56 BC. The three conspired to maintain their various spheres of power and influence. “Most of the men of the highest rank and greatest influence came to see him (Caesar) at Lucca,” Plutarch wrote, “including Pompey, Crassus, Appius the governor of Sardinia and Nepos the proconsul of Spain.” Caesar helped many candidates for office “win their elections by corrupting the people with money from him.” In return, they voted to provide Caesar with an additional five years of provincial command and allotted him more money from the government’s coffers.
The meeting, known at the First Triumvirate, also resulted in Crassus obtaining the influential and lucrative governorship of Syria, to use as a base for a grand campaign to conquer Parthia. Pompey would retain his holdings in Hispania. A highlight of the tour came when students from the Liceo Majorana of Capannori acted out the secret meeting of the powerful trio in the very location that it probably took place, the Domus Romana.
Tuesday, April 17, 2018
My scammer body double is at it again, trying to sell a car to a woman in Germany. The woman, whom I’ll call Maddie, contacted me today on Facebook, saying: “Dear Paul! I was about to buy a car and was contacted by “Fekete Zsolt Akos,” who obviously stole your identity. He sent me a passport (which was photoshopped) and some of your pictures. Thanks to Google, I found (with the pictures) your blog and read about your identity theft.”
Maddie sent me a copy of the passport, which shows a handsome middle-aged man (okay, okay, an average-looking elderly man). It is a copy of my passport, but most of the vital information has been changed, including the place of birth, which now reads Roma. The other photos she received have been copied from my blog.
Maddie lives in Berlin, and she explained that the scammer “writes me Whattsapp messages and tries to sell me a car. I asked him to send me a picture of him and the car. Maybe now he smells a rat. He writes from a German number and writes in (not fluent) German. He says he’s a doctor, living in Rome.”
I printed out the fake passport photo, along with a copy of my correspondence with Maddie (who also gave me both her number and the number being used by the scammer) and took them to Carabinieri Marshall Ratta this afternoon. He wrote up an additional report to add to my previous denuncia.
In the best of all worlds, the Italian and German police will now work together on a sting operation, contacting the scammer by using his German number and pretending to be interested in buying a car. They’ll then cleverly lure him into a meeting and nab him, forever clearing my good name! Nei miei sogni (in my dreams)!
Actually, Marshall Ratta told me that since the person being contacted is in Germany and the scammer is using a German phone card, the Italian police probably won’t do anything about this current complaint. I doubt that they’d successfully be able to trick the scammer into coming out in the open anyway.
However, this new incident may serve to bolster my case with the Agenzia dell’Entrate down the road, and I’m also happy to see that my recent blog entries about my identity theft helped warn Maddie away from a fraudulent purchase. Thanks also to Google, which allows people to do an image search by dragging and dropping a photo. That’s how Maddie found my blog. Who knows what will come next?
See also: A high stakes challenge: I must fight the Italian IRS and
Slow progress in the case of my identity theft.
See also: A high stakes challenge: I must fight the Italian IRS and
Slow progress in the case of my identity theft.
Thursday, April 12, 2018
My identity theft case continues to move at a glacial pace, a common occurrence with Italian bureaucracy. It’s now been two weeks since I was told it takes a least a week to obtain the record of the purchase and sale of the car I supposedly owned for almost two years. However, I did file a denuncia—a formal complaint—yesterday, and I’m happy that this went smoothly.
It helps to have good advice from friends. I may be more fortunate than the average foreigner because I have access to some useful resources. Although I was initially disappointed that I didn’t receive any help from my lawyer cousin, a couple of other relatives came through. First, distant cousin Paolo Venturini gave me the good advice to file a denuncia with the police. That brought to mind something I hadn’t thought of previously: I have another cousin, Claudio Del Terra, who is an officer with the Polizia Municipale of nearby Altopascio. I e-mailed Claudio, and he came to my home a couple of days later to hear my story.
At first he thought the notice may have had something to do with a car I might have rented in the past, but once he saw the documents I’d received from the Agenzia delle Entrate, he had no doubts that it was a truffa—a scam. Should I go to his office, or to the Carabinieri in Altopascio or Lucca? Claudio said he would make some inquiries and get back to me with a recommendation.
He e-mailed me a couple of days later that he had spoken to the Carabinieri head marshal, who said I could file the denuncia with him. I waited a few more days, hoping that the Sra Iacopi from the PRA (Pubblico Registro Automobilistico) would contact me to say that she had received the documents we are awaiting from Rome that will show the details of the bogus auto purchase and sale. When I still hadn’t heard from her by yesterday, I went to the Carabinieri anyway.
I could feel my heart pounding as I told the young officer at the front desk why I had come. Being in the headquarters of the state police of any country can be a bit unnerving, and of course my shaky skills in Italian added to my lack of ease. I had to wait about 15 minutes, which helped me regather my composure. I was welcomed into the office of Capo Maresciallo Giuseppe Ratta, who asked for my carta d’identità and other basic information, such as my phone number, occupation and marital status. I introduced myself as a journalist rather than a small business owner. Both are true, but being a journalist seems more impressive than being a guy who patches and seals asphalt during the summer. I also showed him all the paperwork I’d received from the Agenzia delle Entrate, detailing the approximately 1,000 euro I supposedly owed in unpaid auto and telephone taxes.
Sr. Ratta clicked his mouse and read documents on his computer for a good 10 minutes before asking me a few more questions. “Have you ever owned a car here? Do you know the person who bought the car?” I had typed out an entire timeline of my comings and goings in Italy, including the dates I had become a citizen jure sanguinis, obtained my passport, codice fiscale and residency. He didn’t need these dates, he said, and then he started typing rapidly on his keyboard while I waited in silence. We never mentioned my relationship with Claudio, but I’m sure that Claudio’s conversation with Marshal Ratta had been influential in the ready acceptance of my story.
He printed three copies of the denuncia and we both signed all three. Essentially it provides all the relevant details, “formally denouncing the unknown person or persons responsible and expressly requesting punishment by the competent authorities.”
And what do I do next? Does he need to see the documents from the sale that I’m awaiting from the PRA? No, the police can request those documents from Rome. Should I show the denuncia to the Agenzia delle Entrate? Yes, that’s a good idea.
So off I went today to the AE, but they had no interest in my prized one-page form. The lady at the Sportello Amico, the friendly desk, said that a denuncia is not enough to cancel the taxes owed. That will have to be done by the PRA, following an investigation. She suggested I take my denuncia there, which I did.
But after showing it to Sra. Iacopi, who had helped me two weeks earlier, she didn’t make a copy either. I was pleased that she at least read it, but she gave me the same story in different words. A denuncia is a good start, but it’s not enough. She called her counterparts in Rome to inquire again about the documents, and they told her they had not received them from the archives yet. Srs. Iacopi promised that she would contact me as soon as the documents reached her desk, and I was encouraged by the fact that not only had she recognized me immediately, but she also had my file right at her fingertips on her desk.
On the plus side, the slow pace of progress probably means that the AE won’t be breathing down my neck about paying these fees. After all, the taxes were from events that occurred in 2014 and 2015, and I had only received notice recently. Maybe it’ll take another two or three years before they even bother to send out a second notice.
Monday, April 9, 2018
We find bellezza and bruttezza in our weekend explorations among the hills of Emilia-Romagna with friends
|Castell De' Britti, viewed from our trail.|
Last weekend, we decided to meet up with our friends Stefano and Nancy, who live in Padova, and we picked a place
|Lucy and me overlooking the Calanchi.|
Located on the gentle hills south of Bologna, the park
includes a band of chalky outcrops called calanchi, bare clay hills eroded by wind and rain and then hardened by the sun. My Italian dictionary translates calanco to “badlands” and gesso means “chalk.” So think of the badlands of South Dakota, but made of chalky clay that erodes easily instead of the harder multi-layered sedimentary rock that takes longer to wear down.
We met Stefano and Nancy Saturday morning at Castel De’
|Nancy, me, Stefano.|
We saw bare rocky cliffs and
So how close was our sighting? Well, I actually touched this
|Primroses lined many of paths we took.|
We were joined near the beginning of the trail by a most
|Return of the proud hunter Oby.|
We noted that Holly was not looking for affection or
|Our guide dog, Holly, far right.|
We spent the night at an agriturismo near Marzabotto and
|A family of victims: A mother and her|
seven children were all put to death.
We parted ways with Stefano and Nancy at the park in the
|Waterfall near Poretta Terme.|
Friday, April 6, 2018
|Mary is usually drawn with baby Jesus, but here she|
is shown protecting innocent children. The identity
of this Florentine artist is unknown.
However, thanks to the
|Photo of the Spedale from the early 1900s.|
This museum was completely remodeled and re-opened to the public in June of 2016, and it provides a vivid and
|A portion of the historical timeline of the Spedale.|
In one room, visitors can view 140 objects that parents left
|An archival record of one of the foundlings, one who|
thrived under the care of the orphanage.
In another section, one can read the notes that the orphanage
|Not every story ended happily, unfortunately.|
After the orphans were placed in adoptive homes, parish priests followed up with home visits to make sure the children were well looked after. I read of one instance where the priest reported that a child was living in a filthy environment, and the child was returned to the Innocenti.
|One of the inner courtyards, where the orphans could play safely in the sunshine.|
In another section of the museum, one can select and watch videos of people who describe how their parents or grandparents were orphans and were successfully adopted after having been raised in the Spedale degli Innocenti. Also included are some photos taken inside the orphanage in the early 1900s.
On the floor above the museum, one can see the outside courtyards of the orphanage itself and enjoy the splendid
|In these illuminated drawers, protected by glass, one can view|
the remembrances that parents left with their children.
Florence native Enrico Michelassi, in a Google review written in Italian, commented: “If you think this is just a museum, you would be off track. True, the environment has an architectural beauty that touches perfection, true the view of the panorama from the terrace is worth the visit alone, true that the museum is modern and absolutely adapted to the theme—but it is the historical content and humanity that make this place exceptional. It is the first orphan asylum in history, a model followed up to our time. In reading the stories of children over the centuries, you enter the life of the city and you discover how impressive is the number of those reintroduced into society, and how important this has been for the city itself.”
Sunday, April 1, 2018
We found another interesting place off the beaten path today—way off the beaten patch. Even among Italians, few have heard of Larciano in the Valdinievole, and though it is only 35 minutes from our home in Montecarlo and an hour from Firenze, we would not have thought to go there had it not been for a special event we read about in a brochure we picked up while eating in our local gelateria.
out we picked the right place on the right day. Not only was this the clearest
and warmest day of the year so far, but we were able to climb to the top of the
tower of the Castle of Larciano. We also saw two museums there, all for free
with no lines, and staffed by helpful locals. It’s part of series of events
called Open Week, sponsored by a consortium of private and public agencies
created to promote tourism in the Valdinievole.
even if the Leonardo exhibit had not been there, visiting Larciano would have
been worthwhile for the sole reason of climbing the castle tower, which allows
a 360-degree view that includes the town, the valley, the swamps of Fucecchio
and the Albano mountains. After enjoying this breathtaking vista, we spent a
few minutes in the city’s civic historical museum, where we viewed items dating
from Etruscan times through the Roman occupation and all the way up to modern
that the tower is normally open to the public on Tuesday, Thursdays and
Saturdays from 8:30 a.m. to 1 p.m. Museum hours vary by season, and it’s best
to check the city’s website before going. Both the tower and the museum are
free, not just during this week but year around. For more on other events of
Open Week (March 31-April 8), see www.tomontecatini.com.
|The tower in the Castle of Larciano.|
While the tower and the civic museum are compelling attractions, the real jewel of the afternoon was a roving display of more than 50 small machines that have been created from the drawings of Leonardo da Vinci—who, by the way, grew up just six miles away from Larciano. Most likely this proximity to Vinci helped the Larcianesi snag this fascinating display.
Leonardo is one of the most prolific
inventors in history. The technology of his age
prevented the construction of many of his ideas, but that didn’t stop Leonardo from
using his knowledge of physics and his imagination and dreaming of what might
be possible in the future. His sketches show weapons of war, flying machines,
improved work tools, devices to control water flow and many other innovations.
The models, made mostly of wood, show how the devices would have worked, and
the displays include explanations in Italian, English and French.
|Leonardo is credited with inventing canal|
locks, which are still used today in much
the same way as shown in his sketches.
|The tower view facing the Albano mountains.|
|Larciano's church bell tower.|
|Looking down on the stairway inside the tower.|
Thursday, March 29, 2018
Mamma mia! Che casino! What a disaster!
Just a couple of weeks ago, Lucy asked me what I was enjoying about being in Italy this year, and one of my answers was that I felt good being able to deal with life’s issues on my own. I can now speak Italian well enough to handle most transactions, such as obtaining a parking permit for our rental car, paying my utility bills and even giving directions to strangers on occasion.
But as the Bible says: “Pride comes before a fall.” Now my ability to communicate is going to be stretched to the fullest, because someone in Italy has stolen my identity and rung up debts with the Agencia delle Entrate, the Italian version of the Internal Revenue Service.
I’ve received two notices from the AE, one last year stating that I owed tax for a commercial telephone line with the company Vodafone, and another this year claiming I owed taxes on my car. In both cases, they had my correct name and codice fiscale, but I didn’t have a phone contract with Vodaphone and I don’t own a car.
I essentially ignored the bill for the phone because I figured it was a clerical error and maybe the agency would figure that out on its own. But when I got a bill for 346.73€ owed in the region of Lazio for “tassa automobilistica” for the year 2014, I decided I had better get this cleared up. Probably there is another Paul or Paolo Spadoni, and when I became a resident of Montecarlo in 2016, my name accidentally became associated with his. There are other people named Paul or Paolo Spadoni in the world, but the likelihood of there being another Paul Robert Spadoni is slim, so I just had to find out the full name of this other Spadoni auto owner and that would clear up the misunderstanding.
I recognized that the AE is not an agency to take lightly, and I first e-mailed my cousin, Simone Spadoni, who is a lawyer here, to ask for advice. He wrote back to say that I could hire a lawyer to fight the bill, but there was no guarantee of success, and I might pay more in legal fees than it was worth. At a minimum, I’d have to pay a lawyer 250€, he said. I didn’t like this answer one bit, though. My first thought was that a lawyer could clear all this up with a phone call and a few faxed documents and charge less than 250€. And then, if I paid the AE bill once, wouldn’t I also run the risk of having to pay this other person’s debts year after year?
I considered asking someone to go with me to help translate, but the only friends I have who are bilingual are working people. I didn’t want to ask them to take time off and lose pay. And hadn’t I just told Lucy that I enjoyed the challenge of speaking Italian to take care of my own affairs?
So yesterday I went on my own to the AE. On my third try, I found the correct entry to the large and modern office on the outskirts of Lucca. I asked the man at the information desk if he spoke English. A little, he said. Okay, I answered, we’ll try Italian first and see how it goes. That would be better, he replied.
With documents in hand, I successfully explained the problem. He gave me a form to fill out, which took me a few minutes. When I came back to his desk, he was gone, perhaps on a coffee break, but he returned 10 minutes later. He then left to get two print outs, one with showed that I not only owed 346.73€ for 2014 but another 427.26€ for 2015.
I told him again that I had never owned a car in Italy and had not been in Lazio in either 2014 or 2015. In fact, I didn’t think I could have owned a car in Italy without becoming a resident (which I did in 2016). He was sympathetic but said he couldn’t do anything without more information. He suggested that I go to the office of PRA, the Pubblico Registro Automobilistico, to find out more details on the car I supposedly owned, and he gave me an address.
Unfortunately, the address was incorrect, but thankfully I now have a smart phone and used it to find the right place. All of this running around made me feel so sorry for other immigrants to Italy, those who are poor and can’t afford rental cars, smart phones or to miss time from their jobs. Not to mention language lessons, or an attorney or at least Italian friends who can help translate.
When I found the office, it had closed for the day. It’s only open from 8-12:30. But I went back this morning and found it bustling with activity. They have one of those little machines where you check in and get a number, depending on your need. I waited only five minutes before I was paged to the desk of Cristina Iacopi, who turned out to be extremely competent, friendly and helpful.
She understood my problem immediately and went to work on her computer looking up information—disturbing information, I should add. A person using my exact name, and codice fiscale, and listed as being born in Tacoma, USA, on my birthday, had purchased a Cooper Mini that came from Spain in September of 2013 and sold it in June of 2015. It is not a simple clerical error but a clear case of identity theft.
After about 10 minutes of trying to contact her colleagues in Rome, Sra. Iacopi finally got through. They can send her all the documents related to the purchases, which should show signatures and any documents used to prove identity. Of course, it’s also possible that the notaio who approved the transaction was on the payroll of the scammer. It will take at least a week before the documents arrive, so I left my phone number and e-mail address with Sra. Iacopi, who said I could decide after we see the paperwork what to do next.
And so, I wait. Or maybe not. This evening I met another cousin, Paolo Venturini, a retired engineer from Milano who shares an interest in genealogy. He advised me to go to the police and file a denuncia, just as I would do if someone had stolen a car from me.
“This person stole your identity, and you must file a report with the police,” Paolo said. “Then you’ll have a document to show the Agenzia delle Entrate. The document will show them you’re not responsible for the taxes on that car. The police have a special division for identity theft, and they can start an investigation.”
It looks like I’m going to get a lot of practice using my language skills in the coming days. And when I win my case—without a lawyer—I will feel a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. But I know I’ll need to be at the top of my game, because the stakes are much higher than they were for getting my parking permit or paying my trash collection bill.
Note: Here is an update on this case.
Note: Here is an update on this case.
Wednesday, March 28, 2018
|The insignia of one of the Seghieri families of Montecarlo,|
Lucca. The saw over the lion is the result of a probably
mistaken belief that Seghieri derived from the word sega,
Italian for saw.
Seghieri and Sighieri are rather unusual names that seem to all derive from the same source and location in Tuscany in the areas of Pisa, Montecarlo, Altopascio and other locations between those cities.
Doctor Sergio Nelli, distinguished author and historian who works at the State Archives in Lucca, believes the various versions of these names derive from the Lombards (Longobardi in Italian), a German tribe that originated in the far north of Europe, passed into and through Germany and then invaded Northern Italy and Tuscany. This tribe never seems to have stayed in one place for long, moving from north to south and adopting the language and customs of the people they conquered and leaving their architectural legacy as far south as Sicily. They established a kingdom in Italy that endured from 568 to 744, although Lombard nobles continued to rule parts of the Italian peninsula until well into the 11th century. The name of the region Lombardy derives from these people.
|Amerigo Seghieri wrote several books|
on the game of chess. This was published
in 1892. He was born in Montecarlo
It appears that our name derives from two Germanic words, Sieg—which means victory or victorious—and Herro—the Old High German word for Herr, which means lord. So, victorious lord might be the meaning of the name. It is also possible that the second part of the name could have been Heri, which means army in Old High German, so an alternate translation could be victorious army.
|This memorial is found in the crypt of|
the Church of Sant'Andrea in Montecarlo.
During medieval times, the name was Latinized and appears in lists of important residents between Pisa, Florence and Lucca as Sigherius, Segherius, Sighierius, Sicherius and Sicherii. Latinization would have been common at that time, because after the Roman Empire collapsed in Western Europe, the main bastion of scholarship was the Roman Catholic Church, for which Latin was the primary written language. Of the two most common versions of the name today, Sighieri is used more in Pisa and surrounding areas and Seghieri in the areas of Montecarlo and Altopascio. Another variation found throughout the same region in Tuscany is Sevieri, most likely from the same origin.
|This is also from the Seghieri pizzeria in Livorno.|
Namespedia.com said the surname Seghieri occurs 75 times in Italy, 35 in France, 28 in the United States and 10 in Argentina. It has no listings for Sighieri, which causes me to mistrust its accuracy, since I know that variation is common in Tuscany.
|This popular Sighieri gelateria is located in Pisa.|
Another website, forebears.io, says the Seghieri surname is found 190 times in Italy, 98 in France, 75 in Argentina and 31 in the United States. It also lists Sighieri: Italy, 157; Brazil, 64; and France, 49; United States, 0. However, forebears also says Seghieri is found in Algeria a whopping 446 times, and I find this hard to believe.
However, I do find a few people from Algeria with
the surname on Facebook, and it’s possible that the Algerian Seghieri families
have been overlooked previously because of an absence of central name databases
there. If any members of the Seghieri/Sighieri Facebook groups can add insight,
please contact me or leave a comment.
|Ettore Sighieri wrote the Floods of|
the Arno, published in 1934. There
is a street named after him in Pisa.
Today we feel especially blessed that we chose Montecarlo as our place of abode in Italy. One of the many reasons for this choice is that we would be near relatives, which would increase our chance of being included in social gatherings and assist in our integration into Italian society.
|Elena, Flavia, Davide|
That choice paid off in a big way yesterday evening, as we had the privilege of attending a big bash for the 18th birthday of Flavia Seghieri. Apparently, such grand parties are common here when children turn 18 and become recognized as adults.
The party included a multi-course dinner at the Poggio, live and recorded music,
appropriate decorations and, of course, an elaborately decorated cake. We
enjoyed sitting across Flavia’s grandparents Sergio and Silvana and next to
four of our Seghieri relatives from France who came down for the celebration.
|Sergio and Silvana|
|Seghieri cousins from France arrive at the festa.|
It seems like only a couple of years ago that we attended Flavia’s 12th birthday party at her home in Marcucci. While it was obvious at the time that she was unusually poised for her age, last night we had a chance to see her with all her friends from school and her musical ensemble—a group of nearly 50 teenagers. She was radiant, polished, confident, beautiful. She moved from table to table, making sure everyone felt welcome and important. "This is my life," she said. "These are all people who are important in my life."
|French tablemates Rose and Emilio.|
In general, teenagers in Italy seem much more comfortable, friendly and accepting of each other than their counterparts in America. I taught in American high schools for 30 years, so I have some experience observing groups of young people. I think the difference is that Italian students stay with the same classmates for many years, and they also have more opportunities to interact in casual social settings. It could also have something to do with the small but generally stable families that emphasize rules of etiquette and civility.
|Matteo, one of Flavia's friends, entertained on the drums.|