Archive for the ‘guest bloggers’ Category

love thursday: the guest waterlily heart

Like many of you,  I suspect, I’ve loved waterlilies ever since the first time I saw paintings by Claude Monet.

So imagine my delight when this gorgeous photo showed up in my inbox, sent by Marnie of Country Fried Stitches:

Marnie wanted to share this image of love, “the heart-shaped leaf pointing to the waterlily,” with all of you and kindly granted permission for me to use it here.

Which leads me to this:

If any of you have blogs but don’t do Love Thursday *or* don’t have blogs at all but still want to spread the love, please send your heart photos and images of love to me here, and I’ll publish them with your permission.

Thank so much Marnie, and Happy Love Thursday to all!


Book Giveaway: My Cousin the Saint by Justin Catanoso

Cherrye of My Bella Vita and I teased you yesterday with an upcoming contest and today I have the details:

Book Giveaway:

1. Justin Catanoso, author of My Cousin the Saint: A Search for Faith, Family, and Miracles, will guest blog here today (below) and at Cherrye’s My Bella Vita tomorrow.

2. In order to be eligible to win a free, signed copy of Justin’s book, leave a question for Justin in the comments on one or both of his guest posts. You can leave as many questions as you like, but only one comment on each blog will count toward the contest (maximum of two entries per person).

3. Justin will pick some of your questions to be answered at his blog, JustinCatanoso.com, and we’ll let you know when to look for the answers.

4. You must leave your questions at or before 11:59 pm CEST on October 17, 2008 to be eligible for the contest. This contest is open to all readers around the world.

5. One winner will be drawn randomly from the eligible comments at Bleeding Espresso, another winner will be drawn from the eligible comments at My Bella Vita, and winners will be announced on the respective blogs October 20, 2008, marking the day of St. Gaetano’s canonization.

For those who look forward to a guest blogger on the 15th of every month, we’re featuring this month’s a little early (thanks Justin!) to make way for Blog Action Day on October 15th. You, too, can join the cause and blog against poverty. Sign up here.

And now, welcome Justin!

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It’s a genuine thrill to be hosted here on Bleeding Espresso to talk with you about my new book, My Cousin the Saint: A Search for Faith, Family, and Miracles (Morrow/HarperCollins). What could be better? This lovely site is managed with great skill and passion by a fellow Italian-American writer who lives in the same region where my Italian family is from and which is the setting of so much of my book. What I would like to share here is how this book came into being. The fact is, the idea for it wasn’t even mine!

On Oct. 20, 2005, I delivered a bittersweet commentary on National Public Radio titled “Our Cousin the Saint.” In 500 words, I tried to articulate some powerful forces that had been stirring in me for nearly two years. In late 2003, my family and I traveled to Italy and were lovingly embraced by long-lost relatives I never knew I had. One relative I learned about for the first time was Gaetano Catanoso, a contemporary of my grandfather’s, born in the same tiny Calabrian village of Chorio. Gaetano had been a priest for 60 years, and his service to the poor had been so extraordinary that he had been beatified by Pope John Paul II in 1997. At the time of our visit, he was one miracle shy of sainthood.

In 2004, back in the United States, my family found itself in desperate need of a miracle. My older brother Alan had been diagnosed with brain cancer, which took his life by Christmas of 2004. My NPR commentary aired ten months later, just three days before Gaetano’s canonization in St. Peter’s Square in Rome. In that piece, I spoke about my brother, my Italian relatives and whether our soon-to-be sainted relative had in any way answered our prayers. I had written elements of this story previously in several national magazines, including the Catholic Digest. I thought I was done with it.

But listening to my commentary in California was Randi Murray, a literary agent. She believed she heard the makings of a book and called to ask if I was interested in pursuing the story. I was flattered, and doubtful. I tried to put her off. I was busy. I have a wife and three daughters. I have two jobs–running a newspaper, teaching at a university. I had plenty of reasons to say no.

But during the canonization ceremony in St. Peter’s Square, where I was surrounded by relatives as well as pilgrims from around the world, I remembered being moved to ponder so many things I didn’t have answers to: where was my brother? What happened to my Catholic faith? Who was this saint in our family and why had I gone most of my life having no idea he ever existed? What does it mean to have someone so holy in the family tree? Does it mean anything?

That call from Randi Murray soon came to feel more like a gift, the means by which I could possibly set out in search of some answers. I put aside any notions that my now-sainted cousin was working his intercessory powers through a Jewish literary agent (even though my mother certainly believes that St. Gaetano has guided this entire project!) But I did come to believe Randi’s initial instincts that there really was a good story in all of this. HarperCollins thought so, too, and with a contract and advance in hand, I got started in the spring of 2006.

While my story sits within the context of a couple of centuries of Italian history and Catanoso family history, much of the contemporary action takes place between 2003 and early 2007. Special research and travel was required. To learn why saints are needed and how one becomes a saint, I spent several days in Rome and interviewed three vastly experienced Vatican saint makers. Then I headed deep into the toe of the boot of Italy– the region of Calabria–for nearly a month.

That’s when I slowly came to understand the life of the saint and the extraordinary way he still lives in so many of my relatives, of all ages. It was an extraordinary learning experience as my Italian relatives, who welcomed me into their hearts and homes as if I lived across the street, not across the ocean, revealed to me in so many ways the depths of their souls. Along with searching for the remnants of my own faith in Italy and America, I was also hunting for clues as to why my grandfather was among the very few Catanosos to emigrate, leaving Calabria in 1903 as a teen-ager, and ultimately making my American birth possible.

For me, a newspaper journalist for more than 25 years, this book represents the story of a lifetime. People the world over are charmed by the kind of humor and hospitality, the kind of love and simple zest for life that is purely Italian–la dolce vita. I was fully immersed in all of it, with the added benefit of being surrounded by newfound relatives. I met the recipient of a Vatican-sanctioned miracle and later interviewed her doctor. I heard miracle stories from so many Catanoso cousins. I shared long meals lovingly prepared and had in-depth conversations about their faith and our family. And tragically, I mourned with them as well, as the family patriarch died suddenly during my visit.

By the end of my month in Italy and coupled with my years of research, I knew I had a powerful story to tell–a story of faith, family and miracles.

Thank you so much for sharing this with us, Justin,
and best of luck with My Cousin the Saint!

Be sure to head over to JustinCatanoso.com for a video recounting Padre Gaetano’s “First Miracle,” and don’t forget to leave a question for Justin to be eligible for the contest!


Guest Blogger: Robin of My Mélange

A hearty welcome to one of my favorite bloggers, Robin of My Mélange! In this guest post, Robin does a great job of letting you know who she is, what she does, and why she does it, so I’ll just let her get on with it. Thanks so much for writing Robin!

P.S. Be sure to come back tomorrow for an exciting contest announcement!

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Imagine yourself gliding along the azure blue water in a gondola, pulsing up and down with the to and fro of the wake along a quiet side canal in Venice. Ducking under a footbridge while the clip-clop of pedestrian heels permeate the silence, ocher and putty plaster worn away from old facades lining the canal, colorful laundry blowing in the breeze overhead and glorious red geraniums blooming on tiny iron balconies, while you are sipping Prosecco.

What about twisting and turning through the dusty, narrow, Tuscan roads graced with tall green Cyprus trees standing like soldiers guarding the fertile soil and protecting the vineyards and grapes, sampling the fruit of Tuscan labor, at an ancient stone winery, set high atop the lush green hills of Chianti.

Or strolling the quais of the Seine in the dark of night, crossing the Pont des Art, resting my arms against the cold iron railing, staring into the black water, watching the glowing reflection of the streetlights and backlit historic monuments stare back at me. They appear before me like a painted canvas, the center of the portrait, the sepia-toned star in the Paris night sky, the Eiffel Tower, dazzles with its hourly show and leaves me speechless.

As the clouds roll in, mist falls gently onto the cobblestones, I tighten my Chanel trenchcoat and fluff the scarf around my neck as I walk slowly toward a welcoming sidewalk café for shelter and to grab a ringside seat on the covered terrace. From my tiny marble table and caned seat, I sip a cup of strong French coffee to take the chill off my bones while I settle in to watch the rest of the scene further unfold around me.

Hooked? Yeah, I was too. Still am.

When I close my eyes, these are the images and videos that flood my mind’s eye and the memories that come rushing back when I think of Europe; of my twin passions: Italy and France.

I have developed a passion and deep abiding love for these countries that now hold a piece of my heart, and won’t let go.

I am reminded of the moment I first stepped foot on the terra firma of Italy. It was a life changing moment. Something unexplainable came over me. My heart felt full and my spirit alive. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was home, right where I belonged. And like Cinderella’s slipper or meeting your soul mate- it just felt right, comfortable, a perfect fit.

You see, I didn’t plan to fall in love with them. In fact, I have no roots in Italy or France. My ancestors are Irish and German. Before I took my first trip to Europe, I had no strong desire to spend time there. Didn’t see the point. We can thank Frances Mayes and the movie industry for turning that around.

From the time I returned from that first trip, and each subsequent trip, I missed every second that I was away. In fact, aside from living there, which with any luck and hard work will happen within the next five years, I was determined to find a way to adopt many of things I loved so much, and introduce them into my daily life. I realized that though I wanted to live there, it was not necessarily about the location, as much as it was the lifestyle.

So, I made it my quest to find ways to live life like a European.

I began by tossing out the Mr. Coffee and Maxwell House and bringing in the Bialetti and espresso, replaced my Pottery Barn furnishings with Euro-trash style flea-market finds, stocked up on cookbooks with authentic French and Italian recipes while experimenting with new dishes, drinking wines from across the pond, seeking out imported products, reading any Franco-Italian memoirs I could get my hands on, played lots of Bocelli and Charles Trenet on the CD player, and I perused my photo albums for inspiration when I was feeling, well, homesick.

I started feeling like I could help others find the same love and passion that I have for Europe. So, Mélange was born. Mélange, which is a French word that means a mixture, was not only the perfect name for my endeavor, but would become a multifaceted way for me to share my passion, harness my creativity and show people how you can either travel to Europe or bring bit and pieces of the culture into your everyday life, so that you could feel like you were enjoying the European lifestyle–on a budget, of course.

Because I get bored easily, and don’t like to put all my eggs in one basket, I had always imagined Mélange to consist of many things: travel planning and consulting, a flea market selling small European finds, photo cards (coming soon!), a blog, and have kept an open mind to whatever else might present itself.  Perhaps freelance writing and intimate seminars.

I started the blog, My Mélange, in December of 2006, not knowing much about blogging or writing or where it would take me. Almost 2 years later, I consider it my baby.

It is a way to connect with people from all over the world and talk about my twin passions with them. I share my favorite stories and photos, hotel recommendations, restaurant suggestions, my trials and tribulations about learning the Italian language and it allows me a forum to suggest ways to create some European savoir-faire in your own life. And travel, lots of travel! Travel tips, travel gear, and travel destinations. You can even submit your favorite travel photos to be featured for Travel Photo Fridays!

I now appreciate that my blog is a helpful resource for those who prefer to plan their own trips or those looking for information and inspiration. However, I also enjoy being the person who is there to plan a customized trip or itinerary for those who don’t have the time or desire to go it alone.

So whether you live in Europe or elsewhere in the world, have a love of France or Italy (or both), dream about traveling there or just want an armchair tour, want a new French recipe or learn a new Italian word every day, then grab a bowl of café au lait and head on over to My Mélange, settle in and take a good long look around. Hopefully you’ll find something that inspires you, and if I have done my job well, when you are finished, not only you will share my passion for the European culture and lifestyle, but you’ll run right out and book a trip of your own!

And until my body gets to live where my heart and soul already does, I will rely on my dreams, my imagination, my blog, my work and I will live vicariously through ex-pat friends, like Michelle, to get me through.

Thanks Michelle!


guest blogger: salena of the daily rant

We have a guest blogger today here at BE, none other than My Camera Fairy herself, Salena of The Daily Rant. You know I love Salena and her blog, so I’m going to keep the intro super short and let you get right into her fabulous post.

But not before I ask you to also go visit me at Italy Magazine for this week’s Guarda! column: The Candelieri of Sardinia! Buon weekend!

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Hair coiffed and perfume spritzed? Check.
Manicure done and toes polished? Check.
Eyeliner straight and lip gloss shining? Check.
Flip-flops and matching purse ready to go? Check.
Silver hoop earrings in place? Check.
Cleavage gently heaving? Check Check.

Give or take a few items (but never the lip gloss), this is my daily checklist. It’s what I do to get ready for my work day. For some of you, this may be run of the mill. For others, it may be over the top. For me, it’s my oxygen. My atypical girlie checklist makes me an anomaly in my industry, because where I make my living takes place behind the wheel of a big rig.

Let me share a quick statistic with you: According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, there are over three million truck drivers in the United States. 4.5 percent of them are women.

I am one of those women.

And this is what I drive:

In addition to my personally imposed checklist, I am required by the Department of Transportation, adhering to a federal standard, to conduct a real pre-trip inspection. Before heading out on the road, I have to check fluid levels, belts, hoses, tire pressure, brakes, air pressure, lights, exhaust system, trailer integrity, etc. I have to make sure everything is in excellent working order before taking to the highway.

In my blog, The Daily Rant, I have documented my lifestyle by keeping a daily account of where I’ve been, what I do and what I think. The latter can range from my praise of all things Dunkin’ to my biggest pet peeve, poor customer service. That’s where the rant part comes in.

I have written more than 1,100 blog posts, with over 500 of them including photographs. I have traveled in 49 U.S. states (I’ve also been to Hawaii, but obviously not in the truck!) and 11 of the 13 Canadian Provinces & Territories. I have been to every major city in America, most of the major cities in Canada and countless small towns in-between. I have traversed the peaks of the American and Canadian Rockies, had my feet in both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, driven the ALCAN Highway to Alaska and snorkeled in the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico. I have seen the majestic beauty of the Siskiyou Mountains in the Northwest and the indigo haze of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the Southeast.

I knew before I even hit the road that I would love to drive, but my boyfriend Ed (of my blog’s “Eddie Friday” posts) suggested I join him as a passenger first, since life on the road is not for everyone. He wanted to make sure I liked it before I spent the money and time to go to school for my license. So he gave me a job being his load dispatcher/secretary/bookkeeper/Girl Friday and I stayed out on the road with him for two years before I went to school to get my very own CDL (commercial driver’s license). I’ve had my CDL for over two years and now we drive as a team.

We are on the road over 300 days of the year, driving over 150,000 miles during that time and covering the United States and Canada extensively. I’ve learned a lot from Ed as he shares his knowledge and experience of over twelve years and 1,500,000 miles behind the wheel. I know I have many years to go before I hit the million mile mark, but by the time I get there, I’ll be an old pro with all the tips and tricks he’s passed on to me!

Upon hearing how many hours a day we drive, one of the first things most people seem to want to know is, “How can you sit for that long??” Valid question, I suppose, but what they don’t realize is that in this job, I get up and move more than I did at the desk job I had the year before I went on the road. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy the sitting around part, as I am the Queen of doing nothing; which the size of my ass confirms every time I buy a new pair of Capri pants.

In case you’re wondering, and even if you’re not, being a truck driver is not responsible for my generous proportions. I’ve always been what my grandfather would call “a big girl”. That said, I would not be seen out in public wearing big ‘ol prairie skirts and baggy clothing ala Kirstie Alley in her pre-Jenny Craig days. I assure you I have not fallen into the sweat pants and wrinkled t-shirt trap you see a lot of the women out here dressed in, and I most certainly do not subscribe to the “I’ll never see these people again, who cares what I’m wearing” philosophy.

From those previously mentioned manicures and pedicures to the lip gloss and trademark silver hoops, I have maintained every aspect of my femininity, and the best compliment I can ever receive after telling someone what I do for a living, is for them to say “You don’t look like a truck driver.”

For those of you wondering what I do look like, here is a little collage representing several versions of me on the road (and no, there are not any that depict the actual size of my ass, but you can see a full length picture of me here and I won’t even make you read through all of my archives to find it!):

In this job, the stops are so numerous, I often feel as if I’m on a tour of all the bathrooms and bookstores in North America. We stop so many times for me to take a pee break, I fear Ed is going to make me start wearing a diaper just so we can get some work done. We generally stop (and get out of the truck) for breakfast, lunch and dinner, in addition to taking breaks for a frosty beverage, a hot latte or an afternoon in Barnes and Noble. I’ve even been known to be persuaded (and by that, I mean dragged kicking and screaming) to go on a walk with Ed. I have been to malls in every state and several Canadian Provinces, including the largest mall in the United States; the Mall of America in Minneapolis, MN and the largest mall in North America; the West Edmonton Mall in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.

The type of freight we haul varies daily and we never know what we’re going to get. Some days it’s lumber, steel and pipe; other days it might be military equipment for our troops at home and abroad. More specifically, some of the items we have hauled are: nuclear submarine parts, spy plane components, million dollar jet engines (one was worth $4.7 million dollars and went up to Cold Lake, Alberta, Canada for their Maple Flag 40 exercise), radioactive medical machinery, steel plating for armoring military vehicles and the actual armored vehicles, gardening supplies such as mulch and peat moss, commercial air conditioning units (to Newfoundland, Canada of all places!), auto parts out of Detroit, assembly line equipment for an evaporated milk factory, submarines from Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, satellite components for NASA, shipping containers filled with various items (like thousands of pencils from China), mobile office units, accessories for military housing in Alaska, aluminum fabricating machinery, equipment to measure underwater earthquakes, construction equipment like Bobcats and scissor lifts, fencing for the Mexican border, and provisions for major disaster relief efforts like Hurricane Katrina and the Minneapolis bridge collapse. We’ve even hauled live honey bees from California to Florida, used to pollinate our crops!

I’ve done a lot of jobs in my life, from my first one bussing and waiting tables in my family restaurant, to managing a movie theater, being an operator for the deaf, working at a four star resort, masquerading as an “admin assistant” in an office, making people beautiful selling Estee Lauder cosmetics and hawking Sabrett’s from my very own hot dog cart; but driving a truck has been by far the best job I’ve ever had, for a variety of reasons.

The very first thing that struck me about this job was the absolute freedom of it. I don’t punch a time clock, I don’t have to be at a job on any specific day at any specific time for any specific set of hours. That’s not to say I don’t have a responsibilities to be somewhere, but from the time I leave the shipper to the time I arrive at the receiver is up to me, as is the in-between time. I sleep when I want, drive when I want, eat when I want, dawdle for as long as I want and do pretty much everything else on my very own schedule. No one looking over my shoulder or breathing down my neck. Although, I do sometimes feel Ed’s eye wandering in my direction now and again, but the freedom of being self-employed is like nothing I’ve ever known. I’ve always worked for someone else and had to play by their rules, which is so not my style.

The second noticeable difference from any other job I’ve held, is the money. As self-employed owner-operators, we make more in one month than I used to make in one year. And it’s not even hard. At first, I was shocked it was even possible, but now I challenge myself to find loads that will maximize our revenue and minimize our work. I will load our trailer from end to end, using every inch of it, to get the most pay for the least amount of effort. It’s sort of like that old Marine Corps adage, “Work smarter, not harder.”

I mention the money to illustrate how this profession provides more than just the freedom of an unstructured work day. There are many reasons to choose a particular career, but in this one, the money isn’t the only goal for me. It’s not about the money itself but what the money represents, which is far more valuable to me. And what I value at this point in my life, is time; the more money I make, the more time I have, and with that time comes my third and perhaps favorite reason for loving this job. The travel.

Even after being on the road for four years, I am still amazed at how much this country has to offer. The people, although the same in their humanness, vary widely in their personalities, characteristics and even appearance based on where you are in the country. It’s amazing to me when I can look at someone and say, “You look like you’re from Minnesota,” and not only be close, but sometimes, right on the money.

Being a native New Yorker, my accent, although not strong, is very recognizable in many of the places I travel. I stand out like a sore thumb in the South, but I get just as many people from other areas of the country asking me where I’m from. I love seeing how and where people live. I enjoy talking to the locals and many times, have exchanged e-mail addresses or phone numbers with people I meet on the road. Ed doesn’t understand it, but I’ve had complete strangers hand me their telephone numbers and say, “you must call me next time you’re in the area!”

I most enjoy traveling the rural roads, which we don’t do very often as it’s not as expedient or as safe as the interstates, but there are so many gorgeous little places off the beaten path that sometimes I resort to begging so Ed will acquiesce. In these places, I’ve found sights that range from the smallest church in America and the largest cow in the country, to the ice cream capital of the world.

Instead of just talking about places I want to go, I visit them. I don’t have to save money for an annual vacation, put in my request to get the time off and keep my fingers crossed hoping that no one else in my office asked for the same block of time. I go where I want, when I want. I don’t have to wonder what the people of North Dakota are like, I get to meet them. And when I’m itching to get a little grease on my fingers because I’m yearning for the taste of a real Philly Cheese steak sandwich, I can go to Pat’s.

Instead of watching the History Channel to experience historical sites, I am able to immerse myself in them. I’ve walked the halls of George Washington’s Mount Vernon Estate on the Potomac River, seen the faces of our Presidents carved into Mount Rushmore, strolled in the garden of Franklin D. Roosevelt’s home perched on the banks of New York’s Hudson River, stood on the grounds of countless military forts, and wandered the streets of numerous Civil War cities; and as with most of the places I go, I take pictures.

Here is a sampling:

You can see all of the pictures I have taken by delving into my blog archives, or you can see a collection of my favorites on my Flickr site. Just click here.

This job is more to me than just supporting the infrastructure of a nation; that’s the bigger part of what I do. I’m a small cog in the wheel of getting goods delivered. The American Trucking Association has a slogan: Good Stuff. Trucks Brings It. I am one of those three million drivers that bring the good stuff. And that makes me proud.

It’s that pride that makes me thrilled to talk about what I do, and this post has allowed me to do just that. If you read my blog, you will gain some insight into the days when Ed is making me laugh or driving me crazy, when I want to strangle the cashier in Target or how I’m plotting to disable the sun because I can’t stand the heat it projects, but for the most part, the good outweighs the bad and I hope that comes across in this post.

I thank Michelle for allowing me to share my world with some of the people in hers. Reading her blog and many of the ones she’s turned me on to has opened my eyes to the world of people living their dreams. Whether it be in the hills of Calabria or the cab of an 18-wheeler, I think the best thing you can do is pursue the things that make you feel alive and give you joy. Be open to new adventures, mingle with different people, date someone who isn’t your type, try a new food, and listen as Michelle has said in one of her posts, to your core.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you have to be all woo-woo and Zen-like, but it is important to balance the have-to’s with the want-to’s.


guest blogger: the pursuit of happiness by paul of crazy like whoa

Me carrying Pacific Ocean water on FlickrThis month’s guest blogger is Paul of Crazy Like Whoa (pictured left, carrying Pacific Ocean water), who you may also know as Paolo or Paolaccio from comments here on my blog.

Paul recently left behind his desk job in San Diego for a cross-country road trip, blog version here. Stops included the Grand Canyon, Roswell, Austin, N’awlins, Nashville, Baltimore and Baaaaaaaaston.

Seriously, read these. Some of the photos from his journey grace this post, but you should check out the complete Flickr set here.

Paul’s America is not to be missed!
[I put that in bold and centered it, so it must be true.]

Paul and I have bonded over our southern Italian heritage, ties to Pennsylvania and views on American and Italian politics as well as other pressing issues like the social phenomenon that is the LOLcat movement.

For the record, I cant haz it.

Aw shucks, I feel like anything I say about Paul would be cliché (smart! funny! joy to read! witty banter! biting sarcasm to boot!) so I’ll just leave it at this: I cannot stress how much I recommend jumping on the bandwagon and seeing what The Crazy‘s got cooking.

Below is one of my all-time favorite posts of his, originally published here on June 8, 2008, a few weeks before his Coast to Coast adventure would begin. A huge, enormous thanks to Paul for allowing me to republish this, one of the most beautiful collection of words, thoughts and emotions I’ve ever read on the Internet or elsewhere:

The Pursuit of Happiness

Grandview, looking out from a cleaft in the rock on FlickrA lot of friends and acquaintances have had the occasion to ask the perfectly reasonable question of why I wanted to give up a good home in a beautiful city on the Pacific — where I have nice friends and associates, a decent job which pays well, health insurance and all the trappings of middle class American existence — in favor of life on the road and an uncertain future.

(They usually don’t use highly caffeinated run-on sentences like the foregoing, but you get the idea.)

Part of it is for the same reason that dogs lick themselves (because I can!!), but the overarching reason why is very personal, and has to do with the quest I have been on since I was self-aware enough to think of such things: I want to live a good life and be happy.

That quest has taken me in a lot of different philosophical directions and to a lot of destinations on the Earth. I think of it as kind of a winding path that has trended in the same general direction. There was a period where I thought the key to a good life was self-knowledge and spiritual discipline. I studied Zen under a renowned master and practiced about as diligently as an attention-deficient Gen-Xer could.

Then, I spent a number of years of my life learning, so that I could earn a decent income – never as an end in itself, but what I saw as a necessary means to an end at a time when I was lurching from job to job in an island economy.

Then I entered a period of my life where I sought meaning in being a good partner and supportive boyfriend: again, not as the be-all and end-all, but as an important step I felt I needed to take.

Buddha on Route 66 on FlickrIt seems to me that a good life is lived by giving your gifts fully in the service of some greater good. Some people find that good in family: I see that as a noble and appropriate purpose, though one that will not be mine, for biological reasons at least.

Others find it in religion, or in a career. I have never been especially religious, though I would say that I am fairly intensely spiritual. And, as far as a career goes, it’s hard for me to imagine that I could find lasting satisfaction in a job, at least as the Anglo-American economy is presently constituted. I find the world of work far too reductively focused on abstracts like profit and productivity… and in any regard, the things I think of as valuable (equality, justice etc.) are not really market commodities.

This journey, for me, will be a time to break out of my routine so that I can meditate deeply on what my true gifts are. In addition, I intend to leave myself open to inspiration as to how I can give those gifts in a way that will help create the kind of world I want to see… or, in any case, somewhat slow the slide into barbarism and brutality that I see happening day by day.

I’m trying really hard not to pre-judge the outcome, though it’s not like I haven’t thought long and hard about these issues. I have the gift of communication – this makes itself manifest in my ability to speak multiple languages and also to explain complicated technical issues to others in an effective way.

The Colorado River on FlickrI am widely-read and curious about the world, and history: I feel I have a pretty good understanding of this historic moment and the underlying trends — and this understanding is not limited by either an America-centric or a Eurocentric perspective.

And above all, I have a real desire for social justice and want to play some small part in creating a world that works for everybody.

It may be that I somehow find a job that pays me to harness my gifts in order to create social change on a massive scale. More likely, I will have to put the pieces together in a more ad-hoc way: a job that supports my values along with some sort of part-time occupation in organizing, speaking writing… who knows.

Jefferson declared the right not to happiness itself, but its pursuit. Aristotle held that a happy life could only be judged so after death; until then, as Solon admonished Croesus, a man could not be called happy, but merely fortunate.

I have been fortunate to have lived a life that has allowed me to learn a little about what brings lasting happiness. I am very fortunate to be in a position where I can actually act on some of the things I have learned.


Michelle KaminskyMichelle Kaminsky is an American attorney-turned-freelance writer who lived in her family's ancestral village in Calabria, Italy for 15 years. This blog is now archived. 

Calabria Guidebook

Calabria travel guide by Michelle Fabio

Recipes

 

Homemade apple butter
Green beans, potatoes, and pancetta
Glazed Apple Oatmeal Cinnamon Muffins
Pasta with snails alla calabrese
Onion, Oregano, and Thyme Focaccia
Oatmeal Banana Craisin Muffins
Prosciutto wrapped watermelon with bel paese cheese
Fried eggs with red onion and cheese
Calabrian sausage and fava beans
Ricotta Pound Cake