Archive for the ‘me me me’ Category
a different kind of malocchio
I’ve written about the curse of malocchio, but yesterday at 4 a.m., I experienced a much different kind of “bad eye.” I woke up with a literal one that was tearing, burning, itching, and just being a big ole pain.
Needless to say, I couldn’t fall back asleep–did you notice that I posted at 5:30 a.m. yesterday? Yeah, you probably won’t be seeing that again unless the eye strikes back.
So after posting, I woke up P for work. He asked if I wanted to go down the mountain to the doctor. Nah, I said, we’ll see how it progresses.
I don’t like the doctor, but I really hate going here, where it can take hours of sitting among a bunch of sickies before I’m seen only to get news that I could’ve gotten at the pharmacy, where the pharmacist diagnoses you and sells you whatever he thinks you need. No thanks.
A few minutes after P left for work, he returned and told me that he had two different volunteers in the piazza that would take me to the doctor if I wanted. Again, no. Let’s just wait and see, I said.
So once I was sure the pharmacist had arrived in the village, I ventured out for some medical advice; he usually rolls in around 9:30, but to be safe I waited until 10. And wouldn’t you know? A line of people.
I, of course, kept my sunglasses on, so I got even more stares than I normally would, as oddly enough, young people don’t often hang out in the pharmacy in a village where the average age is somewhere around 65. After a few minutes and a gasp from the pharmacist at how bad my eye looked, I got some drops (the famous collirio for fellow expats) and was on my way.
And then more fun began.
First I ran into P’s sister-in-law who diagnosed me as having pink eye, which I had thought was a possibility as well, but she seemed particularly concerned because “My how your face is swollen! You look terrible!”
Then the clerk in the tobacco shop (needed to get tissues) seconded that emotion, and told me (in a speech that lasted no less than 15 minutes) that her two daughters had just gotten over pink eye.
Alrighty then. Moving on the grocery store, which is about a ten second walk down the street.
On the way, I was stopped by three different elderly women asking about my eye. I was wearing sunglasses, by the way, so they hadn’t actually seen a problem, but the word had clearly gotten out.
And then inside the grocery store, the clerk also diagnosed me with pink eye, although another customer thought I had just gotten something in it, like a mosquito, he said. I hadn’t thought of the mosquito angle, so I thanked him for his ingenuity.
The morning was rounded out by a phone call from P’s mom (who doesn’t live in the village, but rather down the mountain) asking me if I wanted to go to the doctor. Again, I resisted the invitation, and I didn’t even think it was strange that she knew I had an eye issue.
Instead, I squeezed some drops into my eye, causing ridiculous burning for a few seconds and finally some relief, and then called the school to tell them I wouldn’t be teaching today. They, incidentally, hadn’t heard of the Great Eye Debacle yet, so it was good I called.
More drops and many cold compresses later, the eye was mostly back to normal by yesterday evening–much to the relief of the village, which sent some representative questioners this morning when I took Luna for a walk.
As for the eye, I’m not sure if it was a quickly traveling virus or even, say, a mosquito, but it seems to have passed, and I am left with only photographic reminders of all the annoyance. Because of the horrible pain, I was up for the sunrise yesterday, and that didn’t turn out to be a bad consolation prize.*
Unfortunately the weather turned cloudy and rainy soon thereafter, but you wouldn’t know it from the way the day started.
This from the balcony:
And this from my kitchen window as the sun traveled through the sky:
*Excuse the crookedness factor please. I was only working with one good eye, you know, and even that wasn’t so good since I didn’t have my contacts in. I’m virtually blind with uncorrected vision.
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[tags]eye problems, sunrises, calabria, life in calabria[/tags]
A Blog By Any Other Name…
I’ve gotten quite a few questions about the origin of the name of my blog lately. Maybe others are also wondering where it came from and are just too shy to ask. Or, most likely, you haven’t given it any thought at all and couldn’t care less about my creative process.
No matter. You’re all getting an answer right now. And we’re going back to when I first moved to Italy in 2003.
I’m a journal-keeper by nature, and so it was only logical that I’d be recording my experience of making a new life in my family’s old village. Remember this was around the time of Under the Tuscan Sun, and I was thinking about at some point organizing my experiences and observations into something larger, which for the sake of argument, we’ll call a book.
So I brainstormed some names for chapters and came up with “Mozzarella Dreams,” (this because I had recently had nightmares on two separate occasions after eating mozzarella in the evening; the chapter would be about food habits); “Questi Uomini” (“these men”; chapter to discuss the culture of machismo); “The Young Girl and the Sea” (talking about my aversion to the beach despite living so close to it); and (I bet you saw this coming) “Bleeding Espresso” (about the coffee-drinking habits around here, including the no cappuccino other than first thing in the morning “rule”).
But that still doesn’t really explain where I got the phrase from, so stay with me here.
“Bleeding Espresso” first came to mind because when I was in college, there was a rather flamboyant football player who was always good for an entertaining quote. One day he let loose with: “I believe if you’d cut me, I’d bleed Duke blue.”
It immediately became a catch phrase among my friends and me because it was so over the top and hilarious. I mean, I like my alma mater and all, but that’s a little excessive. Surprisingly, it’s not as out there as I thought because when I just did a quick Google search for the phrase “bleed Duke blue,” I got 5 pages of results. And none of them were said by this particular athlete.
In any event, that phrase has always been somewhere near the surface of my consciousness, so when it came time to chapter name, I wanted something along the lines of espresso, cappuccino, and the like. I thought about just how much coffee people drink here, and that probably even I at this point would bleed espresso if I were cut.
So I scribbled “Bleeding Espresso” on the inside of a manila folder where I kept random tidbits that I wrote, brochures from travels, etc., and there it sat for a few years.
And then one fateful December night, I got the inspiration to blog, but I drew a complete blank on a name. I thought and thought for a couple days until it occurred to me to go back to the beginning of my Italian travels quite literally.
I went to the folder, and Bleeding Espresso was born. The tag line below it came a few moments later, and my name “sognatrice” (“dreamer”) came from the “Mozzarella Dreams” phrase.
So now you know.
you’re invited to the ultimate blog party!
It’s finally here, the beginning of the Ultimate Blog Party, and everyone’s invited!
Now get thee to 5 Minutes for Mom to find out how you can show off your moves, mingle with other bloggers, discover new online friends, and even win prizes!
So, part of the deal is that I’m supposed to introduce myself to all the fellow party-cipants (hah!). As you can see over there on my “about me” section, I’m an American expat writer living in southern Italy. Bor-ing, I know. We expat bloggers are a dime a dozzina these days.
But there are also 100 things, another 100 things, and a “me, not me” photo meme to learn more about me too–those could keep you busy for a while.
Nothing interesting there either?
Hmm…well, just the other day, I was tagged by lovely Loulou (my first tag!) to list 5 Things No One Knows About Me. One might think that since I have previously written 200 things, posted a bunch of pictures, *and* done a 6 Weird Things About Me meme, I’d have nothing left to share.
Well, to paraphrase Bugs Bunny, “One don’t know me very well, do he?”
1. I love corn on the cob (or as my niece and nephew call it “corn on the dog”), but I didn’t eat it for about 15 years from the ages of 10 to 25 or so. Why? Because when I was 10, my mom and I were eating at Long John Silver’s. Come on, you know you loved that batter-dipped stuff too.
Anyway, I had a loose tooth and wasn’t really into eating anything, but particularly those little butter-smothered corn on the cobs. But my mom made me. And my tooth came out right in between two kernels on the cob. *Big* but (I believe) completely understandable aversion to corn on the cob ensued.
2. I have never had anything professionally waxed–eyebrows, bikini line, car. Nothing. Well, paper, but that doesn’t count, because it already comes that way. What about candles? Crayons? OK, you get my point.
3. I was placed on a diet by overanxious doctors when I was about 9 months old. I wasn’t allowed milk or formula, only juice. I’m convinced this is why I’m short, have weak teeth, and lifelong weight issues. And probably why I never wanted to be a doctor.
4. Speaking of weight issues, I don’t own a scale and have no intention of ever owning one. Even though I’ve recently lost weight, and I’d love to know how much, I’ll just wait until I go to the doctor. I can’t imagine that it would be a good thing to know my weight down to the kilo every day, which is exactly what I would do if I had a scale. I’m like that, and I know it, so it’s best to avoid the whole temptation.
5. Until I was about 16 years old, I was convinced that it was the LAW that one could not drink soda before noon. This was my mom’s rule, and the funny thing is that my mom is the polar opposite of a disciplinarian–this may have been her only rule come to think of it. Anyway, I really took it to heart, and to this day obey the LAW OF NO SODA BEFORE NOON.
So, regular and new readers alike, I hope you’ll stick around, let me know you’ve stopped by, and then party on back to The Ultimate Blog Party for some more fun!
Blog party on!
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[tags]ultimate blog party[/tags]
Another 100 Things About Me
Woohoo! It’s my 100th post!
And to celebrate, here are another 100 things about me (get your cup of coffee or whatever now, because you could be here a while):
- I’m a sucker for animals, but not so much birds UNTIL my owl Filippo came along. I would have a zoo if it were physically and economically possible and ethically sound.
- People in my southern Italian village think I’m strange because I touch (in a loving way) just about any animal that crosses my path. I’m quite certain that’s not the only reason they think I’m strange. Living away from my family is another biggie.
- I’ve learned that Americans and Italians do just about everything differently. Some things I’ve changed (I now peel all fruit), but most I’ve kept the same. Assimilation is just a 12 letter word, and yes I had to count that out on my fingers. Twice to be sure.
- I cook at least one meal from scratch a day, oftentimes two. It’s the truth, yo.
- I like cheeseburgers with ketchup, mayonnaise, onion, lettuce, and tomato, but I like hot dogs with mustard and onions. I don’t believe mustard should ever touch vegetables.
- One of my favorite meals is sauerkraut, pork, mashed potatoes, and applesauce, and each bite must contain some of each one of those or else something’s off. This is my family’s traditional New Year’s Day dish, by the way; drinking too much on New Year’s Eve is beyond discouraged. Coincidence?
- Speaking of German stuff, my mother is Pennsylvania Dutch, which does not mean Amish or Dutch, but it does mean “Pennsylvania German” more or less.
- I put the toilet paper roll so that the paper comes from underneath. I find it’s easier to snap off with one hand, and, thus, more convenient. I also find that children can’t spin the hell out of it and leave it in a ball on the floor. Please don’t bombard me with comments on why I’m wrong. La la la…I’m not listening….and by the way, do not think you’re doing me a favor by switching it when you come to my house.
- I like things organized, but I’m not really a clean freak. For instance, I hate mopping floors, so for the most part, I don’t. This, I reason, is because I don’t need to eat off my floors. I think it’s good reasoning.
- I have an uncanny ability to remember birth dates, theme songs, and commercial jingles, but people’s names often escape me. The frequency of this phenomenon has increased with age.
- I first saw the movie Jerry Maguire in a special screening at my university, and I’ve seen it another, oh, 81 (or so) times since. I believe most occurrences in life can be answered with a quote from that movie that’s not “Show me the money!” I know many of you doubt this, but if you explore this possibility, I think you’ll find it to be true.
- I used to like Tom Cruise a real lot, but, well, you know the rest.
- I have no tattoos or interesting piercings and no desire to obtain them.
- I have sung on stage in public, although not many people know I can carry a tune.
- I can play the flute (or at least I could 15 years ago) and would love to learn to play the guitar, and after that, the piano. And then every other instrument.
- I’m a United States/Italian dual citizen, which is completely possible and legal. If anyone would like information on the jure sanguinis process, please feel free to email me.
- I got Italian citizenship through my grandmother’s bloodline, but it would’ve been much quicker and easier to just get hitched. 20/20 as they say.
- I have my Italian-born great-grandmother’s and great-great-grandfather’s original American citizenship certificates framed here in my house in Italy.
- I live minutes from the beach, but I’m really, really not a beach person.
- Because of my pasty white skin, I am asked approximately a million times every summer why I don’t like the beach. I did not inherit my grandmother’s olive complexion, but at least the blood got me something.
- I didn’t touch my hair color until I was in my mid 20s, but I haven’t highlighted in about 4 years now. All my natural color is back and has regained its natural highlights, which is kinda cool. I’m also gaining some white stragglers, though, which is not so cool and means I will likely start adding some artificial color soon.
- I’ve begun using anti-wrinkle cream around my eyes, and I am not ashamed.
- I used to have a lot of sinus problems in America, but I haven’t really had any since I moved to Italy.
- On the other hand, I’m now allergic to cigarette smoke, although I wasn’t when I was in America (although I’ve always hated it).
- I’ve also developed a disturbing allergy to most lip glosses. If anyone has ideas on this, do tell.
- For as long as I can remember, I’ve had an inexplicable fascination with the Kennedy family.
- I was on the phone with a friend talking about “The Kennedy Curse” for three hours on the evening that JFK, Jr.’s plane went down. I was completely freaked out by the news the next morning, and still feel so every now and again when I think about this odd coincidence.
- I’ve always been a Democrat, one might even say a “yellow dog Democrat.” For those who don’t know, that means I’d sooner vote for a yellow dog than a Republican. Thank you Dean Wilson for teaching me this.
- I really, truly believe Al Gore won the presidential election in 2000.
- And I still really, really believe in Al Gore. I don’t care if people think he’s boring. I don’t need my president to make me laugh.
- For that, I have Conan O’Brien. One might say I have a lil’ crush on him.
- I’ve met him and seen his show in person several times, although I’ve neither lived in nor love New York City.
- However I do like Boston—for me to poop on!
- No, seriously, I love Boston; most of my friends from college are from the greater Boston area. I went to college in North Carolina. You figure it out.
- On the Beantown tip, I was also a New Kids on the Block freak. Joey Mac all the way, baby. You know, if I were still 13 years old.
- I met him once as well. In New York City. Again, I’ve never lived there.
- I’m not very good at hiding my emotions. If you’re paying attention, you know where you stand with me.
- My first job was as a waitress at a drive-in—diner, not movie theater. And no, I didn’t grow up in the 50s or have to wear roller skates, but I can make those really cool swirls in a soft serve ice cream cone with the best of ’em.
- I also worked at an amusement park, operating rides. Cleaning up vomit was the least fun part of that job; letting chunky kids use my thigh as a step stool to get into the “Italian Trapeze” (swings) is a close second. The coolest part? Using into the microphone to tell people to keep their arms and legs inside the car, stay behind the yellow line, etc. Oh the power!
- I worked in a lawyer’s office for a summer before I went to law school, hated it, and then went to law school anyway. I know, I know. I’m a slow learner.
- Speaking of which, I went to Head Start, which for most of my life I thought meant I was a slow learner. Only much later did I find out it just meant we were poor.
- I started kindergarten when I was four years old, which means I graduated when I was 17 years old.
- I already knew how to read when I showed up that first day, mostly thanks to my older brother.
- I’ve always been a great speller, going so far as the written test before qualifying for the National Spelling Bee when I was 10 years old.
- I was frequently bored throughout elementary school and probably did twice the amount of work of most students just to keep busy. Does anyone else remember SRA? Those stories and reading comprehension quizzes? I remember a report card saying I was a real “eager beaver” with those, and I’m convinced that’s why I hated those questions so much on future standardized tests.
- During college, I worked in The University Store and got a 20% discount. My family and I wore way more collegiate paraphernalia than was truly necessary.
- Also during college, I was a member of a national service fraternity—yes, you read that right. It was a brotherhood even though there were plenty of gals involved. There were very few social events as the entire group revolved around volunteering.
- I did over 100 hours worth of service and worked with domestic violence survivors, children with cancer, the elderly, AIDS patients, underprivileged children, and many others. My favorite activities were playing with the children at the hospital and serving as a Girl Scout leader.
- During law school, I was a professor’s research assistant and also wrote legal articles for the oldest law journal in the United States, Philadelphia’s Legal Intelligencer.
- In high school, I was a statistician for both the boys’ basketball and baseball teams. It was really fun except for when one of the parents got on my ass about not crediting his son the number of assists he was sure he had dished. High school records and possible retiring of jerseys were at stake!
- If you think that’s extreme, you should see how people react to high school football where I live. Think “Friday Night Lights” (at least the book; I haven’t seen the TV show or the movie) and you’re on the right track. My high school has the most wins in the state of Pennsylvania, by the way. Go Big Red!
- Despite coming for a football-loving place, I also really love, love, love going to baseball games. I dropped a lot of disposable income on Phillies games when I lived in Philly.
- I often read magazines and newspapers from back to front. Yet another trait I get from my mother.
- I studied Latin for four years in high school, which seemed pointless at the time but actually helped a lot with the verbal section of the SAT and also with learning Italian.
- I studied German for a year in college but stopped because I realized I wasn’t going to be able to fulfill any more requirements with German classes. I did well, but now I forget just about everything.
- I didn’t take Italian because the time conflicted with one of the courses in my English major.
- If I had known then what I know now, I would’ve stuck with German *and* switched my history major to Italian and tried to study as many languages as possible. I still would’ve kept the English major though.
- I’ve still never taken a proper Italian class, but I’m currently studying Italian grammar on my own. I feel like although I can communicate, I can’t express myself in exactly the way I want all the time. Particularly for a writer, this is extremely frustrating.
- I can draw and paint OK, but I would love to learn more about both crafts.
- I *love* home remodeling shows and magazines.
- I was raised Catholic, but grew apart from the religion for essentially two reasons: (1) the Church’s treatment of women and (2) its disturbing emphasis on money.
- I have a soft spot in my heart for the saints, though, as I still believe in miracles and respect those that are called by a higher power to sacrifice their lives for others.
- I believe everyone should have complete control over their own body, and I don’t believe this should be a controversial statement.
- I believe in neither capital nor corporal punishment.
- I used to think that a man lived in the cubby hole (attached to my bedroom), but not like the Bogeyman—more like a homeless man who came and went when no one was paying attention. I was in my teens.
- Then one day my goddaughter (three years old at the time) opened the cubby door toward her and it flew back shut for no apparent reason. She froze with her mouth gaping open before I scooped her up and took her downstairs. After that, I never had the feeling that someone was in there anymore.
- I’ve never seen any Star Wars movies or Star Trek episodes or movies, and I probably never will.
- But I love astronomy and anything that has to do with space.
- I also love anatomy but don’t like blood. Once something’s pickled, apparently, I have no problems exploring.
- My mom is a nurse, and I vividly remember someone asking me if I wanted to be a nurse like my mom when I was about four years old, to which I replied, “NOOOO!”
- I stopped growing in 7th grade, which means I hit my maximum height (5’2”/157.5 cm although my Itailan ID says 160) at 11 years old.
- My grandfather (from where I get my last name) was Lithuanian. And no, that’s not the same as Polish, but there’s a lot of overlap, particularly in the amazing food.
- I’ve always wanted to learn sign language, but now I’ve realized that Italian Sign Language and American Sign Language aren’t the same, so I’m torn. I’d like to be able to teach this to my baby (if I ever have one) because I’ve read that it’s a good way for babies to communicate and feel understood. But I have to pick a language first.
- I really like scented candles, but I have to extinguish them outside because the smell of extinguished candles makes P sick to his stomach. Then I end up forgetting them outside in the rain, and they get filled with water; it can take weeks for them to be usable again.
- Even in extreme heat, I can’t sleep without some sort of cover—at least a sheet draped over my middle section or I’ll be tossin’ and turnin’ all night.
- Luna is the goodest girl, and many Italians here think I am nuts to keep a dog inside the house.
- I had the chicken pox when I was six months old, and then I got a staph infection from my mom (nurses bring home nasty stuff/staph (hah!) sometimes) on top of it. Apparently I screamed a lot, but I don’t have any memories or physical scars, so I’m glad it all went down when it did.
- I didn’t have any scars until I was in a car accident as a passenger when I was 12 years old. My mom was driving and the car skidded on ice, head-on into another car. Both cars were totaled, and my mom was pretty badly injured, mostly because she was reaching across to car to hold me back. But I had my seatbelt on and was sleeping—didn’t wake up until everything was over, which they say was a good thing because then I didn’t try to resist the natural flow of movement. I only had a small cut on my knee where it went into the glove compartment.
- But I was closer to death when P and I first got together—our third date or so. Always eager to make a lasting impression, I got some meat lodged in my throat (and I mean *no* air was getting in) and he literally had to do the Heimlich to dislodge it. You know that saying about your life passing before your eyes? Totally true.
- I wish I had all of the books I had to read in college here with me now so I could actually appreciate them without highlighting anything.
- I really don’t like to shave my legs, but oh how I love the feeling of them in pants when they’re freshly dehaired.
- I’ve had glasses for near-sightedness since I was 8 or 9 years old; I am now extremely, extremely near-sighted. My brother is near-sighted as well, but neither of our parents are.
- If I’m outdoors and it’s not raining, I’m probably wearing sunglasses. Even when it’s overcast, it can still be darn bright you know.
- I was very late in getting a cell phone (it was 2002, I believe), and I’m not interested in any kind of special features at the moment. I like being accessible when I want, not being expected to respond to emails immediately, and having a digital camera for photos.
- I don’t have an iPod, but I would like to have music more accessible.
- I hate getting up early, but I love the feeling of being up early.
- On that note, I don’t like people who act superior because they are awake at the crack of dawn. It just means you probably go to bed before most children, so step off your pedestal please.
- I can be shy around strangers, but can be hard to shut up around people I know well.
- I like to make up stupid songs about just about anything happening at the moment, often incorporating Luna.
- I have kept a journal for as long as I can remember.
- I’ve never wanted blonde hair or blue eyes, which is probably evident in the fact that I’ve never dyed my hair blonde or gotten colored contacts. I wouldn’t mind black hair though.
- I have a really, really strong sweet tooth. I like the things that most people find sickening like marshmallow peeps (made not too far from my hometown) and circus peanuts.
- On the other hand, I don’t care for salt (I scrape it off pretzels).
- I alphabetize just about everything.
- I’ve never tried sushi, and I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t see it happening in the near future since it’s not super common in southern Italy.
- I’ve never had a pedicure or manicure.
- I dislike insects and insect-like things, but they only freak me out if they move quickly. Then all bets are off, and I’m standing on a chair.
- I’ve never bitten my nails or cracked my knuckles, but I did go through a pen chewing phase. Now I find all of these things disgusting.
- The first perfume I remember wearing is Love’s Baby Soft, if you can consider that a perfume.
- I could probably do another 20 of these lists and still not run out of things to say. Does that make me self-centered?
Sunday Scribblings: Crush
Prompt #47: Crush
I read this prompt on Friday, and I had so wanted to go the fiction route…a fast-moving piece about the planning and scheming to make a meeting with a crush seem so natural, the mix of nervousness and excitement that bubbles inside as the crush approaches. It likely would’ve been heavily based on reality being the self-proclaimed Queen of the Crush that I am. Or at least was for the major part of my life.
But I kept coming back to the same idea, or the same idea kept taunting me I should say. And every writer knows that when something nags at you, you get your fingers to the keyboard and stop asking questions.
“Because your kiss, your kiss is on my list…” he sang into the mirror of the sun visor pressed against the windshield. His big brown eyes focused on me, the four-year-old in the back seat. I probably rolled my eyes, because I always rolled that way, but inside I was smiling. I’m sure of it.
Our families were good friends, but theirs didn’t have a little girl. On top of that, I was the youngest of anyone, so I was rather spoiled with attention. His mom treated me like a daughter, and I ended up with two big brothers in addition to the one I already had; the oldest of the bunch became, as I can understand now with adult eyes, My First Crush.
Even at an early age, I remember feeling safe with him while my own brother, his brother, and even his father tormented me. And so I ran to MFC when I couldn’t take any more teasing, and he was always there to hold me, play with me, and generally calm me down.
He was only a teenager at the time, so you can imagine that he was mature beyond his years (at least as it concerned me). All I knew, though, is that I liked being around him more than anyone for the first five or so years of my life. And for a kid, that says a lot. One might even say that it says everything.
And then about that time, our families had a falling out of some sort that didn’t involve any of the kids, but oh, did it affect us; MFC went away to college and then moved away, and well, all of us lost touch.
I don’t remember the details of that period very well, but there were surely times that I missed seeing him, laughing with (at!) him, and generally being fawned over. Who wouldn’t love that kind of devotion? But it passed, obviously, because many more crushes followed.
I’m a long-term crusher, so I basically kept the same boy in mind through elementary school, then switched to a new one in high school, a different one in college. Law school, as any law school survivor won’t find surprising, lacked a real crush opportunity–a sad three years without looking forward to accidentally running into a special someone on purpose.
Isn’t that the best thing about a crush? Unrequited love is never fun, but, oh, that rush of emotion when you see your crush unexpectedly (or expectedly, as the case may be), when you’re suddenly thrown into a conversation, when you’re daydreaming about those fateful meetings, when you’re recounting them later to the chosen few who know of your infatuation.
*Sigh*
Sure over time, thoughts and imaginings become more mature, but at the base of it, a crush is so innocent and young–a raw, guttural, overwhelming like for someone and his/her presence. If we’re lucky, our crushes always hold special places in our hearts.
And if I’m anything, I’m lucky.
Over the past year, I’ve been able to return to that oft-forgotten corner of my childhood. Why? Because MFC came across my name on our high school’s alumni list (I graduated 12 years after he did) and sent me an email.
He started with the suggestion that maybe I didn’t remember who he was. Hah! He wrote of memories of my grandmother and times spent with my family when he was younger–priceless stuff especially since my grandmother had passed away a few years before.
I was ecstatic to hear from him, that he’s doing well, is happily married, successful, and just as funny and generally wonderful as ever. Now we’ve gotten to know each other as adults after sharing just a few years of childhood, which is quite a surreal experience. For him, I imagine that my life took a hiatus right around the phase of the froofy pink dress (wanna make somethin’ of it?), and his, as far as I could tell, never progressed past Hall & Oates.
Good thing for both of us that we’ve moved on.
In fact, in one of those Internet-inspired twists of fate, we’ll be moving closer together for at least one day soon–he and his wife are on their way to southern Italy in April, and we’ll see each other for the first time in, oh, 25 years.
I’m only 30 years old, peeps, so this is some amazing stuff.
Through our emails, I’ve learned even more about my early years from his memories. Recently he wrote that when the house was full of company and I didn’t want to go to bed thereby missing any of the fun, he was the go-to guy to get me to sleep. He (correctly) joked that putting girls to sleep was certainly no skill to brag about later in life, so he didn’t talk about it much, but there you have it.
I don’t remember any of that, but the fact that he does? Wow.
Such a warm fuzzy feeling to know that I, too, hold a place in my first crush’s heart.
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.
Calabria Guidebook
Recipes
