Le Belle Donne di Sidd

As well as allowing Sidd to see some of my favourite places in Roma, this trip gave him the opportunity to meet quite a few of our friends.  Sidd, being Sidd, seemed to gravitate to our lady friends – not that he has anything against men just that it’s a bit harder to get a man to pose in public holding a gnome.  So many men just have no sense of adventure.

The first of our lady friends that Sidd got to know was our Simonetta.  He had heard so much about her – and he wasn’t disappointed.  She was just as fascinating and fun as he had heard she would be. 

In three hours with Nancy Sidd learned so much about Rome and the history of the end of one era and the beginning of another.  As he was taking his leave after a satisfying lunch of caccio e pepe he expressed the hope that she would start writing down all the incredible things she knows.

Dinner at Peter and Joe’s meant a chance for Sidd to say hello to old friends and meet a few new.  Sadly Diana left before we could get a shot of her and Sidd but Gisella and he seemed to hit it off.  I’m not sure what he just said to her – I’m just hoping he remembered his manners and it wasn’t anything untoward.

I met Sidd through Lara, who started off as a colleague at work and became a dear friend.  I was happy to introduce him to two former colleagues who also became valued friends – Gail and Jolka.  He remarked that I always seem to be fortunate in finding great people to work with.  Sidd can be very perceptive.

With a 2100 start time it was a little difficult to wedge dinner in before the Angela Hewitt concert on Thursday so we joined photographer extraordinaire Anna for aperitivo  at a tiny but friendly enoteca.  Sidd was rather partial to the polenta with ragu – and the not unpleasant Tuscan red that went with it.  And Anna took Sidd's picture!

The last day in Rome was a chance to catch up with our darling Linda and Nazareno.  He looks great after his recent hospital adventure and Sidd warmed up to Linda immediately, as indeed who wouldn’t?   It was like old - and good - times.

Later that day he got a chance to have a touch of a Taste of Scotland with out friend Rachel.  Unfortunately only had his photo tasting with the Sidd-sized barrels of grain that are used in the making of Scotch here in Italy.  Scotch making in Italy – who knew?

As we were packing on Saturday Sidd mused about the people he had met over the week and how lucky we were to have been able to spend time with them all.   He was sorry that he had missed Robert and Walter but really enjoyed meeting Larry, Vin, Mark, Johann, Peter, Joe and Nazerano – they were all great guys but he wondered what they had against having their pictures taken with gnomes?  I told him it was a guy thing – he nodded, shrugged and said:  Boh! 

Sidd’s gone native!

November  4 - 1737: The Teatro di San Carlo in Napoli is inaugurated.

Once Again We Give Thanks - I

Yesterday I posted a comment on Facebook that expressed how I felt as the Thanksgiving weekend began here in Canada.  As we prepare to head out to friends for Thanksgiving dinner I thought I'd share those thoughts with a wider world.

 Its Thanksgiving Weekend here in Canada and I started thinking that maybe I should make a photo montage of all the things I am thankful for - as I storyboarded it (yes I do that sort of thing) I realized that it wasn't things that I was thankful for but people.  People that I have known since childhood and still know and love; people I have met in the various countries we have lived in, many who have become like family; people I have worked with and grown close to; people I have met face to face and people I have only known through the exchange of thoughts through the ether. Of all the things I have been blessed with it is the people in my life that I should be most thankful for - they have given me purpose, meaning and love. I am truly blessed and for that I will always give thanks.

And as I look at this weekend it has and will be one filled with time spent with my family (Laurent and the HFH), friends - long-time and recent.

Uncle Pervy has been a cherished person in my life almost since the day I arrived in Ottawa 36 years ago.  Last night was a mile-stone birthday for him and we celebrated amongst family and friends - some of whom I had not seen in many years.  Jim, one of our old gang, drove the 1350 kms from PEI to be with us.  Others came in from Toronto and the Finger Lakes, some came from just down the street but our paths had not crossed in a while.  It was a joyous - and at times a bit bawdy as we recalled old times - meeting of friends and family. 

Tonight will be dinner with friends of a more recent vintage - Jackie, Mona and their daughter Shawna came into our lives through a Christmas dinner in 2005 with our friends Ross and Albert.  Every year since we have received an invitation to their New Year's reception; we were able to attend several but because of distance more often than not had to send our regrets.  But every year without fail the invitation would be extended with the hope that one day we would be able to accept and this past January we were able to enjoy the afternoon with them once more.  This evening we'll be joining them and other friends to have a meal together and give thanks for all the blessings of this past year.

Tomorrow at lunch Cathy will be ladling out soup, Laurent will be carving a turkey he cooked (his first!!!) and John will be offering slices of his pumpkin cheese cake.  Me - well I'll be opening and pouring a bottle or two of one of our lovely light Italian reds - its an onerous task but I've agreed to it.  As we linger over our coffee we will no doubt recall Thanksgivings, other feasts and good times spent together in Chicago, Rome, Aylmer, Niagara-on-the-Lake or just here in Ottawa.  We'll be wishing that Rick were here with us and the plan is to call him in Florida to, at the least, tell him what he's missing and that he is missed.

A fine weekend that has been filled with friends, family and thanks. Indeed I am truly blessed and for that I will always give thanks

October 07 - 1998: Matthew Shepard, a gay student at the University of Wyoming, is found tied to a fence after being savagely beaten by two young men in Laramie, Wyoming.

A Tree of Memories

For the first few Christmases Laurent and I were together I liked to do "theme" decorations for Christmastide - toy soldiers, story book, music, colonial, birds. Neiman-Marcus, Horchow and Bloomingdale catalogues and The Bay would be scanned for appropriate items; one year it was brass trumpets, carol books, music sheets, toy drums and mandolins; the next bright red cardinals and birds nestling amongst apples and cranberry strands. Garlands festooned the rooms and various paraphernalia of the season adorned mantel pieces, tables and almost every available space. When she came into our apartment in Mexico City one Christmas our Ambassador's wife said she thought she had stepped into Eaton's window. I would like to think she meant that in a nice way but I have a feeling it really meant she thought it was a bit OTT.

Our first Christmas in Mexico in 1986 our friends Sandra and John gave us the little kitten - or rather their cat did - it has been on every tree since. As has this gingerbread man that my mother gave me a year or two before. And that first Christmas in the apartment from hell in Chicago was brightened by Rick and John and a colonial motive with this wooden angel bringing us tidings that were indeed joyful.

I started collecting a few of the annual ornaments - our famous or infamous (pick your adjective) Silver Christmas Balls, Silver Christmas Flower Medallions from Towle and Wedgewood Jasper Ornaments. One year I picked up 250 hand twisted tin icicles at a Christmas Market in Ottawa - as with all that silver as I polish it I utter a curse as each icicle is hung on an individual branch. As we travelled - Christmas has been spent in Ottawa, Mexico City, Cairo, Chicago, Hong Kong, Warsaw, Montreal, Rome and Niagara-on-the-Lake - I began to pick up ornaments here and there. In Poland a wealth of blown glass ornaments began to adorn the tree - though I never did get that dill pickle that so many people thought was a must. And friends and family gave us ornaments as the years past - for some reason particular favourites seems to be dachshund related. And because Laurent is allergic to pine we have had any number of artificial trees - some big, some small - the current one is 9' high and thank god pre-lit.

One summer weekend in the 1990s my dear Ryan and I were in Cooperstown for the opera and a visit to the baseball museum. Like most small upstate towns it had a Christmas shop and I admired this Santa in the Moon. Later that evening I found it wrapped beside my dinner plate - it has since lost the heart that Santa was fishing for. Poland was the place to buy glass ornaments and this jolly snowman clown was a gift from Betty Jean and Steve our second Christmas there. I bought two of the London telephone booths and gave one to my darling Deb months before Christmas. She hung it in her kitchen window in Pointe Claire to remind her of home. Now it reminds me of her.

This weekend as my favourite Polish carols played in the background we began unpacking the boxes of ornaments and decorations and with the unpacking came a flood of memories. Themes have come and themes have gone but certain ornaments reappear whatever the theme. Now when I look at our tree I realize that over the past decade the theme has become "memories".

Many years ago when Neiman-Marcus was a place of wonders rather than just another store peddling designer items, they featured a series of felt mice in their Christmas Book. I bought one each year - the first was a Victorian Nanny with her charge; the next year Clara with her Nutcracker; the third was a Candy Cane Princess. Our first daschie Bundnie loved the little Nanny and would retrieve it from the tree and carry it around in her mouth. She never damaged it just trotted from room to room and occasionally hide it in the middle of the floor. Her look of surprise when we found it always gave us a laugh.

With almost each unwrapping a place or more importantly a person who has touched our lives came to mind. There are so many - thank god for the 9' tree: the cloth gingerbread man my mother gave us over 30 years ago; a kitten filled stocking from Sandra and John in Mexico in 1986; a wooden colonial angel from Rick and John from one of our many Christmases together, that one in Chicago; a Lyric Opera decoration from Cathy from the second year there; porcelain Chinese dolls from Dianne and Jean-Paul our first Christmas with them in Hong Kong; the old London Telephone Box - I bought one for our tree and another for my darling Deb; a besweatered daschie from Sophie and Andrew; the Santa in the Moon that my much missed Ryan gave me in Cooperstown now sadly minus the heart he had caught while fishing; the skaters frolicking on a silver pond from Laurent's mom and dad; from our Naomi the strange little man who each year climbs the tree in an attempt to reach the star. And that star! Its nothing grand just one of those old tinsel affairs I recall we had on our tree as a child. We picked it up in a dollar store 30 years ago and each year Laurent places it on top of the tree.

As I put the final icicles on the tree today I listened to Dylan Thomas reading his "A Child's Christmas in Wales". It is one of my Christmas favourites and several years ago Laurent found a miniature copy of one of the first editions - complete down to the wonderful Fritz Eichenberg woodblock illustrations. It has a special place in my heart and on the tree. And that little squat man has been climbing up the tree since our friend Naomi found him in a shop in London and decided he would be a fine addition to our Christmas decorations. In over twenty years he has never quite reached that old tinsel star.

After Laurent put the star up last night we stood back and just quietly looked at our 33rd Christmas tree - a tree that reminds us of people loved, places visited and moments shared. It seems to me that "memories" is not a bad theme for a Christmas tree.

20 decembre - San Domenico di Silos

Christmas is Coming

Yesterday my American friends celebrated their Thanksgiving and for most it signaled the beginning of the Christmas season. In Canada our Harvest Festival is in early October, which is too early - despite what retailers say - to even start thinking about holiday-tide so I've always taken my cue from my American cousins. Here in Italy I've never quite figured out what the signal is for the start of the run up to December 25th so I've created my own.


When Betty Jean's Christmas cactus blooms its time to start thinking about the holidays. And this year its getting set to Bloom with a capital B! I've counted 40 buds - the most I've had on any Christmas cactus.

As I look at it on the windowsill I'm reminded of Betty Jean, Stephen, Sarah and Brian and our friendship during our time together in Warsaw and, as difficult as it was, here in Roma. And it also reminds me of so many of our friends around the world - in Pakistan, Poland, Serbia, England, Greece, the United States, here in Italy, in various parts of Canada and back home in Ottawa. Friendships that have bloomed over the years and continue to do so. Reaching back to my American friends holiday - for that I am truly thankful.

26 novembre - Sant'Umile da Bisignano

And Here's Father Ross

A collect at the ordination of a priest

Almighty God, who hath given you this will to do all these things: Grant also unto you strength and power to perform the same; that he may accomplish his work that he hath begun in you; through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen

And here is Father Ross and Albert - Ross is wearing a chasuble (the red vestment that he is sporting) that Albert made for him - though he rather irreverently revered to it as a Horse blanket. If it is a horse blanket it was made for a thoroughbred.

27 aprile - Santa Zita vergine

When I Miss "Home"

Life as a foreign service spouse is pretty exotic - the places we've been, the things we've done. It really is beyond anything I would have every imagined growing up as a kid in a small community outside Toronto. It is an incredible and exciting experience.

But it has its downside. You are away from friends and family for long periods of time and though you keep in touch your lives run parallel courses. Sometimes it takes its toll on relationships but I've been fortunate that most of my friendships have remained firm through moves and shifts in locale and "home".

Being "away" has often meant missing great, and not so great, moments in friends lives - weddings, engagements, births, deaths, anniversaries, birthdays. Oh yes, you send flowers or greetings or make a phone call but ultimately you are missing in the joy - and the sorrow - of important moments in their lives.

Such a moment is happening in Ottawa tonight: in a few hours a dear friend who I have known for 30 years is taking another step in a life that has been varied, rich - at times bizarre - and rewarding.

When I first met Ross he had moved to Ottawa to become minister at the First United Methodist church. I will not go into the story of the many changes that I saw in his life over the following years - that would be an intrusion and deserves a story in itself - but eventually he left the church. The incredible gifts that he had as a preacher/teacher were put to use in the later capacity as he began to establish himself in the training and facilitating world. He had the gift to reach out to and in to people. His activities ranged from dealing with Armed Forces personnel to AIDS advocates and activists.

I remember when he announced, at one of our lunch dates, that he had met someone who he thought could become very special in his life. Given that Ottawa is a small town I should not have been surprised to discover that though I didn't know Albert personally, I knew of him and had worked with some of his family. And indeed Albert was that someone special. Sadly we missed their wedding last year but I can honestly say I could not have wished for anyone for my friend who was a better match. Again their story is a personal one and not the reason for this posting.

My dear friend Ross, soon to be "Father" Ross, and his spouse Albert, soon I guess to be the Vicar's wife?????

The reason for this rambling reminiscence of a lovely and loving friendship is that tonight Ross enters another phase of his life. Tonight the Bishop of Ottawa and priests from the diocese will lay hands on him and ordain him as a priest in the Anglican Church of Canada. Albert will be there and they will be surround by a host of loving friends and relations. I only wish that I could be amongst that congregation to first say goodbye to Ross and then embrace with all my heart "Father" Ross.

My dear friend, congratulations on the newest path in your life. I know you will travel it as you have traveled every road - with humour, love, devotion and with Albert as your support it will a happy, if challenging, time.

Love you with all my heart.


26 aprile - Santa Hope

A Few of My Favorite Things - Well Chosen Gifts

Each Christmas it becomes more and more difficult to find something unusual or even just fun to give. The big question around our place is always: Well what do want for Christmas? And for the past while the answer always seems to be: You know there's nothing I really want. So gifts become socks, underwear, gloves - all those practical things that your old aunt gave you as a kid and you turned your nose up at but now accept readily because you always forget to buy them for yourself. Fortunately there are also the little surprises that do appear under the tree such as a 3 CD set of vintage recordings of Mahler, Brahms and Strauss (even after 60 years Kathleen Ferrier and Bruno Walter can break you heart with Mahler's Songs on the Death of Children) or a Cavalry officer from the Greek War of Independence in beautiful detail.

Then there is that gift that you may have mentioned briefly at one time, forgotten about and is suddenly yours. When we spent that fun Sunday at Wendy's Flavor of Italy making pranzo I used this great rasp style grater to zest the lemons for the ravioli. I think I may have said something to our friend Jocelyn about it in passing one day. Well guess what I unwrapped at her place on Christmas Day? The minute I got home I had to try it - voila a pile of lemon zest in seconds and no idea what to do with it at two o'clock in the morning!

And while wandering around the housewares department at Rinascente gazing at 600 euro coffee machines on Wednesday I came across two ceramic cups that I had seen in Pesaro in August and thought were cute. They turned out to be perfect stuffers for Laurent and Lionel's stockings. And also a great idea for the gift exchange on Christmas Day. And of course I had to buy one for myself for those mornings when I need a double espresso to get motivated at the old keyboard.

And finally totally unexpected I received a lovely present when we dropped in to say hello at our friend's Simonetta and Renato. A perennial and delightful guest at their table on family occasions is Alberto Testa, the Italian dancer, choreographer and dance authority. Il professore - I once called him Dottore and was begged not to: "Everyone in Rome is a dottore" he said with a sardonic twinkle in his eye and voice - turned 87 on December 23 and is still elegant, graceful and a wonderful story teller. His description of teaching Burt Lancaster (a natural dancer) and Claudia Cardinale (a stick) the waltz for Il Gattopardo is funny with a bit of a bite. He surprised me with an autographed copy of his book on Nureyev.

Looking over what I've just written I may have to revise those first thoughts - there are still things out there that when given or received give delight, particularly when they come from family and friends.

29 decembre - San Tommaso Becket

And Fillith All Things Living With Plenitudinous

This will be our third Thanksgiving in Roma and as in past years we will be celebrating with friends. We will be feasting and giving thanks for what the Book of Common Prayer - surely one of the most beautiful pieces of English literature - quaintly calls "plentitudinous" in our lives.

And there is much to be thankful for. I will not rehearse everything but simply say that for all I have I give thanks and that includes all my dear friends who read this posting.

Though I no longer attend church I still enjoy the hymns that mark the seasons of the church calender; and as I have mentioned on several occasions Canadian Thanksgiving is based on the Church of England Harvest Thanksgiving Festival. The hymnal is filled with wonderful pieces for that particular season. "Now Thank We All Our God" is an old Luthern hymn dating back to the 1600s and translated into English in the mid 1800s. It has been included in most hymn books since then.

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We had our traditional Thanksgiving lunch today - a few Italian innovations when ingredients couldn't be found but just your basic Canadian Thanksgiving. Started off with Smokey Pumpkin Soup, followed by Turkey, roast potatoes, chicory, peas and prosciutto and then apple pie with cinnamon gelato. Wine, water, coffee and digestivi in the way of things liquid. And the good friendship of our dear friends Walter (Robert was attending the canonization of Father Damian), Vincenzo and Larry and a recent arrival here in Rome, Lionel. After an initial flurry of greeting Nicky and Nora - the hounds from hell - settled down to tear the head off a toy Vin and Larry had given them and we settled down to conversation, food and fellowship.

Vincenzo, Lionel, Laurent (holding a loaf of bread Lionel made this morning), Walter and Larry - the start of our Thanksgiving meal with dear friends.

So we had a glorious sunny day, a good (if I do say so) meal, good dogs and good friends. A plentitudinous indeed!

11 ottobre - Giorno del Ringraziamento

Does Anyone Still Wear a Hat?

"And are the ladies looking for hats for any special occasion," simpered the very eager and very British young salesclerk. Sales on the High Street are very slow and the sight of Peg, Anna and Gillian with Jim and I in tow had her hopes up for big sales.

"Well actually its for a funeral" I replied trying not to burst into laughter as Gillian modeled a flippy feathery number.

Poor girl - she was totally nonplussed but then she didn't know Deb. She couldn't imagine the half-smile and those eyes crinkling that we all could see as hats were tried on and comments made. She couldn't understand that what we were doing reached back to salacious lunch hour conversations, raucous restaurant banter, deep late night talks about everything that touched our lives or quiet chats on a London bound train where prognosis were revealed and talked about. But hopefully she could see the incredible love and heartbreak that was in our laughter. Deb wanted the ladies to wear hats at her funeral and damn it our ladies were going to wear hats. And if those hats were a bit flippy, a bit feathery, so much the better.
Peg thought something in a broad brim with a slightly My Fair Lady Ascot flair would work but finally settled on a smart little feathered pill box reminiscent of a 50s night club cigarette girl.
Gillian modeled several smart numbers gallantly proffered by Jim and I wanted her to get the feathery one that made her look like she was appearing in Swan Lake at the Theatre Royal. But she decided an old faithful that she had brought with her from Montreal would be just fine.
Anna tried on something broad brimmed and then a puffy gray pill box - for some reason puffy little hats on headbands are all the rage in England these days. She left the store sporting a straw saucer with a whiff of black feathers.
Slightly saucy, maybe even a bit silly our Deb would have loved them. And knowing she had taken us shopping one more time would have pleased her no end.

15 aprile - San Telmo