Archive for the ‘holidays’ Category
signed, sealed, delivered: happy father’s day!
I’m reaching back quite a few years here, but remember when Cabbage Patch Kids first came out? To put it mildly, they were hard to find as well as ridiculously expensive for the average consumer (the category in which my family could be placed).
I had never had a doll collection, but oh how I longed for a Cabbage Patch. The dimples, the belly buttons, the signature on the bum?
Come on! How could you resist?
I did eventually get my fair share of these little ones once demand and prices dropped—my official Kids were named Alden Hermann, Dyann Sabrina, and the preemie, Yeti Kira (why, oh why do I remember these names?), but before them, there was Patty.
Yeah, just “Patty” so that should tell you right there that she didn’t have the seal of approval from BabyLand General. Her face shape, red hair, green eyes, and dimples actually made her look pretty close to the real thing (a “real” Patty twin above), but then there was the small matter of her digits. Patty didn’t have individual toes and fingers as my grandmother had just sewn her limbs into kind of pointy tips, but I didn’t care. Mam Mam also made all of Patty’s clothes for a while, so it was kind of an overall look we were going for obviously.
But you know what Patty did have? Adoption papers. Oh yes, just like her Patch brother and sisters, Patty had very official looking documents listing our names, address, the date, her footprints, and even witnesses.
This was all my dad’s idea. He was a Notary Public at the time, so he was used to all the stamping and witnessing. I’m not sure why he would’ve known that real Cabbage Patch Kids had adoption papers, but this was a huge hit with my 7-year-old self.
I remember waiting impatiently for him to peck out the required information on the old typewriter—this was even before my dad got his first Apple—and then as we signed form after form, and finally as he put the official seal on everything.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
And Patty was mine.
I didn’t truly appreciate the effort at the time, but looking back, what a thoughtful, creative, fun, and special thing to do. That little taste of bureaucracy made me feel like a real mommy, a real caretaker, a real person, and most importantly, loved and important.
I can only hope that if/when I’m a parent, I can remember to do those small things too, to every now and again experience life from a child’s viewpoint and figure out what will make him/her feel important and loved; maybe it doesn’t seem so in the moment, but memories are made among the small things.
So, Dad, thank you for the small things as well as the big things, and
Happy Father’s Day to you and all daddies everywhere!*
Ah, and to avoid having a Father’s Day post have only
a photo of a Cabbage Patch doll, cute as she is…
how ‘bout them Blue Devils?
—————
[tags]cabbage patch kids, father’s day, fathers, dads, corvettes, blue devils, notary publics[/tags]
Honoring the Fallen: The Unknown Soldier by Billy Rose
When I was in seventh grade, I was assigned to make a poem and picture book. I had to find poems on a subject chosen by me, which ended up being “Cats” because I had a calendar from the previous year providing easy illustration.
It was during my research for that assignment that my love for poetry blossomed, and, indeed, I memorized the first poem that ever touched me. I think of it every so often, but always on Memorial Day:
THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER
There’s a graveyard near the White House
Where the Unknown Soldier lies,
And the flowers there are sprinkled
With the tears from mother’s eyes.
I stood there not so long ago
With roses for the brave,
And suddenly I heard a voice
Speak from out the grave:
‘I am the Unknown Soldier,’
The spirit voice began,
‘And I think I have the right
To ask some questions man to man.
‘Are my buddies taken care of?
Was their victory so sweet?
Is that big reward you offered
Selling pencils on the street?
‘Did they really win the freedom
They battled to achieve?
Do you still respect that Croix de Guerre
Above that empty sleeve?
‘Does a gold star in the window
Now mean anything at all?
I wonder how my old girl feels
When she hears a bugle call.
‘And that baby who sang
“Hello, Central, give me no man’s land”-
Can they replace her daddy
With a military band?
‘I wonder if the profiteers
Have satisfied their greed?
I wonder if a soldier’s mother
Ever is in need?
‘I wonder if the kings, who planned it all
Are really satisfied?
They played their game of checkers
And eleven million died.
‘I am the Unknown Soldier
And maybe I died in vain,
But if I were alive and my country called,
I’d do it all over again.’
BILLY ROSE
At twelve years old, I didn’t have a clue as to what most of it meant, but it spoke to me and to my heart, and I’m sure it’s what started me down the path to a degree in history as I investigated what the references to Croix de Guerre, bugle calls, military bands, and profiteers were all about.
Today I’m remembering all who have given their lives in our country’s numerous wars–and although I may not agree with the current war, the troops and their families remain in my prayers. Thank you, and may we remember your service every day and not only a few times a year.
la festa della mamma
When I was in elementary school, our teachers planned a Mother’s Day Tea for 2 p.m. the Friday before the big day. Having been the teacher’s pet eloquent writer and speaker that I was in my preteen days, I was chosen to compose and deliver the welcoming address.
A huge honor, of course, but my mother was a nurse and worked the 3-11 shift; I knew she wouldn’t be able to make it.
But I wrote and edited and wrote and edited my little speech anyway because, well, other mothers would be there, and they deserved a good show too. Still when it came time to perform, I was nervous as I walked onto the stage, gripping my notecards for dear life.
Click click click said my shoes on the wooden floor–the only noises amidst complete silence.
Everyone was looking at me although I didn’t dare glance at them. I simply got really close to the microphone like they had told me to do, took a deep breath, and said, “Good morning.”
Finally I looked into the audience, and there she was.
My mom, front and center, beaming the smile that always comforted me. I delivered the rest of the welcome without so much as a stutter.
I still don’t really know the details of how she managed it, but I know I appreciated it–so much so that it made it into one of my college essays (and I got in!).
But only now as an adult, another part of the story sticks out to me: my mother doesn’t even drink tea.
Happy Mother’s Day Mom and to all mothers,
including those in Italy, as today is La Festa della Mamma here as well!
You make life amazing!
(You think it’s a coincidence that MOM upside down is WOW?)
—————
[tags]mother’s day, la festa della mamma, mothers, moms[/tags]
Birthday Post Fall-Out (Plus Mention of a Wedding)
That last part got your attention, didn’t it?
Well, we’ll get there eventually, but you have to hang with me a bit.
The other day I posted about my mom for her birthday. I didn’t even tell her that I had posted it because she can only read the blog from my brother’s house occasionally, *and* she’s in the process of moving, so I figured I would wait until things settled down a bit to let her know.
And then I got this email this morning:
*****
Dear Aunt Shell,
Nana says thanks for the blog. I feel the same way about that song. You made Nana cry, but you knew I would. I am almost moved into the apartment the fellow that bought kitty’s stuff moved the furniture to my apartment today. My phone is disconnected and so is my tv- at the house everything is hooked up at the apartment. I am working night shift. I call you tomorrow. Michael typed this for me. We both send our love.
Love Mom, Michael
your favorite nephew Mia is out of the picture.
She’s still in school.
*****
OK, so it’s a little confusing with the shifting point of view, but Nana is my mom, of course, and I’m guessing she’s the one that feels the same about the song (I doubt my 10-year-old nephew is big into Bette–no snide comments!) and also was the one I knew I would make cry (true). Kitty is my mom’s mother-like figure who has recently moved to a care facility, and for some reason my nephew refers to my niece as a nephew (wouldn’t be a problem in Italy since “nipote” covers everyone, even grandchildren!).
That last one may be partly explained by the next email I received–from my niece (who, thank goodness is not literally “out of the picture”).
*****
Dear Aunt shell. Michael said he is your favorite niece. I don’t believe him. I sent you a post card when we went to Disney at Epcot. We might go to Italy to see you get married.
Love,
Mia
*****
Whoa Nelly!Aside from the utter cuteness of my niece and nephew, let’s go back and make some sense of all this.
My brother and his family recently went to Disney World on their first real family trip; everyone had such a blast, so it was casually mentioned that perhaps the next trip it to Italy. So I casually mentioned, well, hey, if everyone will be here, P and I could get married while you’re here.
Going back further. P asked me to marry him, oh, on about the second day we knew each other. So it’s always just kind of been there. Besides, the whole engagement process in Italy isn’t like it is in the States–here it doesn’t even really exist.
About the big day, though, neither of us are religious or want a big to-do, so a church wedding/typical southern Italian 500 guest extravaganza simply isn’t happening. We’re in no rush anyway since we already live together, and well, someday, when everything’s right, the stars align and whatnot, it’ll happen. I’m not concerned, and neither is P.
But when I heard that my family might be planning a trip, I thought, hey, why not?
Even better is that when I told P my family was talking about visiting, *he* suggested getting married while they’re here. So nice when we’re on the same page.
And I then received another email from my nephew which included the following:
*****
. . . Mom said on the way home [from Disney] next vacation is to Italy. Then I asked are we going to stay at Aunt Shells she said yes.
*****
Sounds serious, huh?
So, cara famiglia, the pressure is on.
Blog friends, feel free to leave comments hassling encouraging them to make reservations so P can make an honest woman of me. Only if you feel so inclined, of course.
Oh, and Happy Labour Day/May Day to those celebrating–why yes, it’s another holiday in Italy! Normally around here people go up into the mountains, but as P put it, we’re already in the hills. Hah! That’s Italian humor in case you didn’t catch it.
We will be having a lovely late lunch of Florentine steaks on the grill, baked potatoes, spinach, corn, salad, and (I’m guessing) lots of wine.
And, if you’re wondering, yes, I will also celebrate America’s Labor Day in September–being an expat has many hidden advantages.
Pasqua (Easter) in Calabria: Sabato Santo Photos
And so here we are at Pasquetta (Easter Monday).
Many people down here take the day to spend with friends, relax, eat, and whatnot, but since I’m a dedicated blogger, I’ve been going through the hundreds of photos I took this past weekend. Don’t worry, I’ve also made time to relax and eat too.
For a fuller description of events, check out my previous Easter post here.
Some quick background. I had, essentially, an all access pass to the behind-the-scenes events because of P. You see, he’s been involved in this forever and directs traffic so to speak at various parts. He kept telling people I was covering the whole thing for the BBC, so you can thank him for giving me the courage to get in the way of Jesus and co.
Ahem. The photos.
Starting at about noon on Saturday, the soldiers got their gear ready.
P and I headed down to where Jesus and the other two that would be crucified were getting ready. This happened inside a cantina while the soldiers and the penitent got in position outside. I thought the grated window would be a cool shot, and just as I snapped, a soldier walked by.
Here is one of the two to be crucified alongside Jesus waiting to exit the cantina.
And here are the sinners waiting to self-flagellate.
The two to be crucified and Jesus are being led down to one of the village’s thirteen churches, from where the procession will begin.
Jesus rounding the corner to go down the path to the church.
The path to the church.
The area behind the church where Jesus is tied to the tree and beaten.
A brief pause in the festivities to give you an idea of how many people participate.
One of those people is P’s nephew Vincenzo.
After Jesus is given his cross down there, the procession moves through the village and up to another church, formerly part of a monastery. This photo is taken from my balcony and is hazy because my neighbor decided to heat his house (read: smoke got in our eyes).
From here, the procession arrives at another small church in one of the tiny vicoli, and some of the major players hand off their robes to different participants.
From there, the procession moves to yet another church, where we await the arrival of the Madonna, but not before some further punishment of Jesus.
I don’t have a photo of the arrival of the Madonna as I took it all on video, which I haven’t been able to upload. Boo.
From that church, the procession goes all the way back down to the church where everything started, and we wait for the next day’s events.
FYI, the procession of Sabato Santo takes between 8 and 9 hours.
Then on Sunday morning we have A Cumprunta where the risen Jesus is met by the Madonna. Again, I have this all on video, but here’s a shot of the two statues together.
And one of the a guy dancing while balancing his church’s flag in his mouth.
And that’s all from this pretend BBC correspondent for today.
Michelle 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.
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