Passaparola – Pass Those Words Along

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

As I entered the office, I turned and said: “Bongiorno Graziella – il tuo vestito blu è magnifico.” “Luigi – che fa?”

Vittoria, our morning mom looked around and then at me like I was – well – justifiably insane. There wasn’t a sole in my little office under the stairs. Well, cripes, I was dressed, made up and going to work. Can’t I talk to my pretend co-workers? Is that so strange. I figure it is better than talking to myself.

Jack, walked down the stairs and raised an eyebrow – talking to yourself again?

Not wanting them to stare boldly at me anymore, I picked up my iPad and headed down to the piazza. There, I could talk to myself and it is ok. I’m the bizarre American lady – it is expected.

Writers write – isn’t that talking to yourself and hoping that someone answers? Or better still that someone takes those words and passes them to others via a production. Passaparola means passing something along – word of mouth. Doesn’t that imply the sharing of tales and passing them down mouth by mouth? As I sit in Piazza Roma, I realized I had the perfect tale of passing stories on. The play I wrote, Many Snows Ago, is based on the very short tales of the Lenape and other Eastern Woodland indigenous people who shared their history, philosophy and humor verbally. During winter months, a storyteller would gather everyone around and bring those tales to life. Passaparola!

This past spring, a group of incredible teenagers passed the words found in Many Snows Ago around. . Actually, they questioned and understood more about my words than I did. Thanks to the forever creative Janet Cantore Watson, my play, Many Snows Ago, was used for a New Jersey Skills USA Stagecraft Design Competition. NJ Skills USA is part of the Vocational, Technical and Industrial Schools program.

Teams of four students, dressed in backstage black arrived at the state-wide Skills USA competition held at Somerset County Vocational Technical High School. These were creative whipper smart Vocational Technical High School kids. Each team included at least one Theater Arts student to draft the Stage Management book. Three other team members were students from supporting vocational programs (i.e. Carpentry, Electrician, Cosmetology, Performing Arts…)

Each team got a copy of Many Snows Ago and had three hours to read it, design it and make a short video pitching their visions. Three of the following areas had to be created – Set Design/Construction, Costume Design/Construction, Theatrical Lighting Design, Stage Make-Up Design, and/or Theatrical Sound Design. The theater arts student was responsible for notating all cues and stage direction in the Stage Manager’s binder copy of the script. THREE HOURS to accomplish all of that!

The Winning Team produced an unbelievable production proposal. It was so good, I wished their school would produce the play using their ideas. What school? Only the award winning Monmouth County Vocational School District’s Communications High School located in Wall, NJ. Actually, I wish any school would use their ideas and create this nuanced vision of the script. Kudos to Shawn Ribeiro, Sophia Vigliotti, Ava Tohy and Juliet Hernandez. Janet snapped a photo of me with the talented winning young women. (I’m the smushed face FaceTiming in on the phone.)

Their video pitch started with an overview of their perspective on the themes and through lines. WOWZA! When I write, I just tell the story. These teens mined for ideas found deep in each tale. Our roots, ie heritage, transcend the passage of time and connect us to those who came before us and will come after us. The design through lines included roots, clocks, and Lenape iconic clothing interspersed with hints of the 1600’s to modern wear.

I was blown away by the costume designs. The principal character is the Storyteller who shares each of the individual tales in story theater manner with the ensemble. What follows is what the designer explained. Note the skirt made of torn up pages of books that represented the interconnections of the stories as they were passed down. The belt is classic Lenape. The greenery in the hair represent the roots of the tales. Can I say WOWZA again.

One of the secondary themes the group explained was the intertwining of greed and imperialism. They noted that greed is still very present today. Hence, the garb of the European explorers juxtaposed contemporary suits, bling and a fur cape. The make up was a touch of Regency – powdered wig and white powder. Another WOWZA.

The circular set had a tree with exposed roots in the center. This was the position of the Storyteller. A clock face, symbolizing the passage of time was embedded. They noted the clock would chime between scenes. OMG, I want these kids to produce this play. Monmouth County Vocational School’s Communications High Schools rocks it!

Now another generation has learned from the EasternWoodland Indians and they too can pass those tales – words- on. Passaparola!

So what does this have to do with Nonna’s Mulberry Tree and a woman spending her third act in a small Italian village? Everything. That play, even though it had been presented numerous times, got its publication chops right here in this piazza. Where I could revise, talk out loud, look deranged and with the spirit of my nonna beside me send it off to a publisher. Next Stage Press now has the work and it is available for purchase just to read and/or licensing. (Yes, that was a blatant pitch.)

Ci vediamo!

Midge

Fall Harvests – More Than Just Olives

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Food - Eating In and Out!

Pontelandolfo’s fields of potatoes dug up, saved, cooked and eaten!

What do you do when your good friend Mariann arrives with a trunk load of potatoes? No, Mariann didn’t grow them, her lovely neighbor who has a huge farm and always brings her fruit and vegetables, did. There were too many potatoes for Maryann to deal with, so she graciously popped by with some for me. Well, maybe I didn’t really get a trunk full. Maybe I just got pounds and pounds. Don’t ask me how many pounds it was too heavy to carry. So, I figured that it had to be about a pazillion pounds.

Now came the dilemma, what do I do with them? Mash and freeze? Chop, blanch and freeze? Stare at the box? I really didn’t want to just use the local delicious potatoes for mundane mashed potatoes. Hmmmm, I thought, it’s almost winter here in the Sannio Hills. What would be better than having potato soup in the freezer to eat on a cold and stormy night? Never having made potato soup, the first thing I did was what every good chef does. I googled potato soup! I started with the New York Times recipes. Then I went onto the Pioneer woman and then I went onto. I don’t even remember what I read or who I stole ideas from. I do remember, I sipped a scotch because one should sip a scotch when making potato soup. Scrambling all the recipes in my brain, I amalgamated what I thought were the best of the best and it worked.

So here is my magic hearty potato soup adventure, made with potatoes farmed in my favorite Italian village, Pontelandolfo. Number one, open your refrigerator and take out any leftover bits and pieces of prosciutto, pancetta or plain old bacon and chop it up into tiny baby pieces. I had two or three cups worth. Put that in a bowl and sip more scotch. Then grab the celery, onions and carrots and get ready to make that wonderful Italian thing called – called. What is the French name – come on you know – mirepoix! There must be something like that in Italian for my two or three cups worth of carrots, celery, and onions, chopped into tiny baby pieces. Soffritto! Put them in a bowl. Where is my sous chef! (Don’t tell anyone – I altered the soffritto recipe. Since I can’t eat anything without garlic I also added chopped up garlic.) The biggest prep bowl contained the potatoes which had been really washed. Dug up with love, they were covered in local mud. I peeled and diced them into tiny pieces.

Time to start cooking. Don’t put anything in the bottom of a heavy Dutch oven except the chopped up leftover pieces of fatty meat and let them sizzle. Stir and toss until all the fat has oozed out. When you have a nice greasy bottom and crispy pieces then add the soffritto. Bopping to my blues playlist, I kept stirring them and enjoying the marvelous scents. When they were soft, I added the potatoes, covered them with water and tossed in cheese rinds, salt and pepper. Cheese rinds are one of my go to “herbs.” We buy our cheese locally and I save rind trims in the freezer. They add a richness to everything. Then I put a lid on the pot lowered the flame to barely there and walked away for eight hours.

Not one of the cookbooks said to slow cook the soup. But, I figured if you wanted to get a rich flavor and you weren’t going to use chicken broth or beef broth or some other broth, but just that wonderful blend of root vegetables slow cook it! Besides if you slow cook something, you don’t have to watch it. Oh, I forgot, when I added the potatoes, I also added chopped parsley. Obviously local parsley stolen from Zia Victoria’s garden. Later that day when the potatoes were soft, I remembered that one recipe said add butter and heavy cream. Well, I didn’t have heavy cream so I added partially skimmed milk and about 200 grams of butter. The soup looked interesting but it didn’t look extra creamy. I got out my immersion blender and a colander. I took half of the potatoes out of the liquid – what a mess. Actually, it would be easier with another person holding the colander over the pot with half of the potatoes in it. Brrrrrrrrr, my immersion blender and made what remained into a heavy creamy base. Then I added back the potatoes, gave it a stir added more salt and pepper tasted it and went “ah ha.” I knew just what it needed – fresh grated cheeses from Sannio Latte. After throwing in a couple handfuls, I let the soup simmer for a bit and then, Jack and I enjoyed the most delectable homegrown potato soup. Yes, I did freeze a batch too.

Let me know if you have a favorite way to use a truck full of potatoes!

Ci vediamo!

Midge

Speaking of Fall! My play, Many Snows Ago, is the perfect fall addition to any elementary school classroom. Each scene is a complete story that shares the history, humor and knowledge of the indigenous Eastern Woodland People. It is available from Next Stage Press.

Farewell to Vittoria

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo
Vittoria Pesce October 4, 2026

Throughout life’s journey we are blessed to come upon people who teach us, laugh with us and love us. Jack and I were fortunate to meet and live next door to such a person. Vittoria Pesce was a beacon of light, knowledge and unmitigated kindness.

We met her about sixteen years ago, but feel like we have known her forever. In the spring of 2015, Jack and I sold the family farm in New Jersey quicker than we imagined and found ourselves quasi homeless. My Pontelandolfese cousin, Carmela, had an idea. For a few months, why didn’t we rent the furnished duplex owned by Vittoria’s family.

When we arrived, Vittoria and her grandson, Nicola, embraced us as family. From that first day on, that is just what we were – family. We loved the place and we loved them so much we have lived here for sixteen years.

On October 4, 2026, Vittoria left us and we are saddened by her passing. The entire community came out to pay homage to the woman who took care of so many children, helped people in need, shared the yield of her fields of produce and smiled broadly. People came to the house to see her laid to rest in her bed on the sheets of her grandmother. They embraced Nicola and his sister Michelina and looked at Victoria with love and sadness. The following day, the church was full for her funeral. The paese came to honor their “Zia Vittoria.”

It has taken us a few days, but we also have been remembering some of her antics and giggling. “Midgiiieeeeee, Midgiieee” she would shout as she entered our half of the house. (There is an adjoining door that is never locked.) Holding a huge platter of some just cooked delicious morsels she would tell me it was for Jack. Smiling she would plop the platter on the table and an instant cooking class would begin. The recipe section of Nonna’s Mulberry Tree is a real tribute to the cooking of Vittoria Pesce!

Fuori di Zucca Fritta – fried squash blossoms were a treat that she knew no matter how many times I watched her do it, I would screw up. Zia Vittoria, in honor of you I will try again. But they won’t taste the same.

The zucchine elf – Zia Vittoria! She really wanted me to feed Jack fresh produce.

How Many Bags of Fava Beans are There? When they popped out in the garden, Zia popped into our house and cajoled me into cooking them. She also cajoled me into visiting the garden, taking a walk, putting our clothes not in the dryer but on the line and listening to tales of Pontelandolfo long ago.

Her tales of Pontelandolfo resonated with me. She lived in a Contrada, high in the mountains. Everyone knew each other, helped each other and partied hearty with each other. It was hard work and sometimes a difficult life but out of that Contrada came a woman who was working her garden until just recently. Not only working her garden but protecting her “village.” One early evening, I was up on the second floor in my office, oblivious to everything. Jack was out somewhere. Suddenly, hearing screaming and metal banging, I leaped up and ran to the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs was the fierce warrior holding a hoe and bellowing. This little woman in her fourth act was challenging the thief to come downstairs and go head to head with her. I cried, I laughed, she laughed when she realized I was the thief. A little backstory, a few years earlier when we weren’t here, our place was robbed. the dummies just made a mess but didn’t get anything because when we are in New Jersey we take everything with us. She heard me typing and on a zoom call. Thinking we were gone – the car was gone and the first floor lights were out – she charged in to catch the thieves!

In her 80s, she was up at the crack of dawn, hanging laundry on the line and raising her eyebrows at Jack and I at the patio table sipping coffee and barely able to function. Speaking of lines, a line strung on the veranda was used to process zucchini for the winter! Who knew that a little sun would dry out the zucchini and make it perfect for an agri-dolce canning treat. Who knew that a woman in her fourth act would still be canning!

Rings on a line, the ring of life, a life made richer and fuller by Victoria Pesce. She will be missed but will stay with us everyday.

Ci Vediamo,

Midge

Plein Air Artists Rock the Sannio Hills

by midgeguerrera, posted in Nonna's Trips & Events

Back packs? We know that Midge hates backpacks. Those evil things that hit her in the face on buses, ferries – is she really starting a post with a picture of backpacks? Someone should take her temperature!

Ah, my readers, these are not stuffed with travel guides, extra socks and bottles of water. These are expertly packed with all a plein air artist needs to set up in our Sannio Hills and capture in paints a moment in time. Think of them as an artist’s studio that fits on your back – easel, paints, paper/canvas, brushes, rags, mineral spirts and tons of other stuff. I mean, how else could you climb the steep steps of Morcone to find the perfect subject to immortalize?

One backpack, one back, one view – for Steve Duprey from Duprey Art who organized the artists retreat, it was the perfect combination. Here Steve is perched on a step in Morcone. The artists who came had the opportunity to observe the landscapes, streetscapes and people of the archeological dig Atilia Sepino, Pontelandolfo, Morcone and Casalduni.

Not being able to draw a circle, it was amazing to see some of the artists create wonderful works in what seemed like nanno-seconds. There were pieces that reflected architectural detail and bucolic scenes with magical accuracy. As the artists were working, I peeked over shoulders to watch the process. Luckily, they were all good sports and no one smacked me with a brush.

This is the first time Annarita Mancini and I have facilitated a program for visual artists. Americans interested in a different kind of travel experience have come to the Sannio Hills to cook in private homes, explore their roots, immerse in traditional cultural activities and write. We hope to see more visual artists in the future.

Let me stop yammering and let you see for yourself –


Grab a group of pals and we will create something special for you too. The Sannio Hills are calling you.

Ci vediamo

Midge Guerrera

(Oh, I almost forgot – I have updated this blog’s Sannio Hills Travel Guide. Check it out.)

Naple’s Airport Easy Escort Service

by midgeguerrera, posted in Travel Comments

Not that kind of easy escort – get your mind on travel please. I want to share my recent experience with an escort at Naples Capodichino International AirPort . On my way to Amsterdam to see the first international production of my play, “E-mail: 9/12,” I was nervous as hell. So nervous I was barely coherent. There was no need, I was in good hands. My escort was a dapper middle aged Italian man who handled every aspect of my navigating the airport.

He was assigned to me in the Sala Amica, a dedicated special assistance waiting room and service point for passengers with reduced mobility (PRM) and disabilities.  ( I hate to admit that I use a cane now – aging is not for the faint of heart.) This charming man pushed my woman of substance sized body from Sala Amica to my seat on the plane.

Location & Access

  • Terminal Location: Ground floor of Terminal 1, in the departures area near Entrance 1.

In Naples if you have a problem walking, they make it incredibly easy for you. You pull up with your car outside Terminal 1 near Entrance 1. What looks like a separate little yellow building next to the airport is actually attached to the airport. When my driver pulled up to the entrance drive, it was blocked and two police officers stared at us. We smiled, we chatted, they smiled and raised the gate. There was a special parking spot right outside the door. Easy peasy.

Dragging my suitcase and cane I entered one of the most entertaining places to wait in the entire airport. The people who work here having incredibly large personalities. Actors and singers waiting for that gig? One could simply say, “who is waiting for the Birmingham flight” or scamper around the room going up to each person pointing and singing as only a basso can “Birmingham? Birmingham?” The room was packed with folks going to various parts of Great Britain and one woman sang back – Manchester! We all smiled, chatted and didn’t mind waiting for our escorts.

Recognizable Escorts.

Sala Amica has all the amenities – vending machines, fairly comfortable chairs and smiles. Once here, there’s a wheelchair accessible bathroom just for your use. REMEMBER TISSUES! I always have a pack of tissues in my purse to compensate for the lack of toilet paper.

The first time we used this Sala Amica no one even asked to see our passport or tickets or anything. It was just lots of games like where are you going? OK, get in this wheelchair yeah. Hmm, I could start a third act career as a CIA mule.

Suddenly, I hear choo-choo choo-choo. The sound of trains being made by a very loud tenor, choo-choo choo-choo and in the door came about 15 wheelchairs all attached to each other being pushed by one person at the back end. And if it was hard work, you didn’t know it because he just kept on laughing and smiling.

This place is a jewel box of great stories. How about the one about an older man with his daughter going to Dublin clutching one cardboard box tied with twine and one of those styrofoam cooler boxes also tied with twine.

There escort looks at them and says: “what are you taking? You can’t take those. Is it liquid? Water? Wine?”

The old guy looks up at heaven and says, “No, formaggio di latte vaccino stagionato.”

Every Italian in the rooms smiles in understanding. Nothing beats aged Italian cow’s milk cheese. Of course they can carry it on the plane.

I can’t imagine taking those on the plane and finding a place to stick them above. Oh yeah, they also had two carry-ons. How do people get away with that? I am telling you this is a smuggler’s dream.

Speaking of cheese now they’re chanting “Philadelphia Philadelphia Philadelphia.” As a stream of four women and their walking husbands are pushed out the door, a cacophony of “Ciao Philadelphia,” rings out. This place is not only comfortable but fun.

Lots of trekking sticks in the hands of Brits instead of canes. 

If you have flown in or out of Naples or any really small airport you may have experienced the horrible and steep stairway that takes you up to the plane. The stairway is your prize for surviving the cramped one or two buses necessary to get wherever your plane is parked.

My magic carpet!

Registering in advance with your airline and specifying you can’t do stairs will entitle you to ride in the Star Wars looking device that whirrrrrrs, beeps and bumps itself to a portal on the plane. ThunderLift! Imagine a box truck that is also an elevator. The first time I rode one, I totally freaked out crossing the incredibly large gap – at least 2 inches- between the cab and the plane. One is incredibly high in the sky and it is only a stainless steel railing that keeps you in the right spot. Oh yeah, and your escort! They sense I am a nervous nellie and always hold on to me while we cross into the plane.

Some airline hosts have taken my carry on and purse and led me to my seat. Others – oh I am not denigrating Easy Jet here – looked at me like I had leprosy. The escort person shot them the evilest of mal’ochio and helped me.

My self labeled – old man- husband, Jack have used the wheelchair services for a few years. Naples wins the award as having the best system in place. Yes, they absolutely beat out major city giant airports – Newark could take a lesson. Applause to Sala Amica! Bravo Capodichino Aeroporto!

Ci vediamo!

Midge

Visit my website.

Midge’s Play Has European Premier

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Nonna's Trips & Events

Dear readers, this is a blatant Midge pats herself on her back post. Besides patting myself on the back, front and butt, I have been tossing clothes around in my closet, buying bling jewelry and generally acting patzo because I am going to the European opening of one of my plays. FOR THE FIRST TIME! Gulp.

Twenty-five years after the events of September 11, 2001, changed the world forever, E-mail: 9/12 – written by me and those who answered my emails – will make its European premiere. It will be presented by Our Way Productions at Amsterdam’s Polanentheater, on September 11, 12 and 13, 2026. In Europe? Hop over!

E-mail: 9/12 is kind of memoir-esq. It offers a deeply personal act of remembrance. Rather than revisiting the politics or the tragedy of September 11 itself, the play focuses on the ordinary moments that followed: parents searching for their children, first responders returning home, friends checking in across continents and strangers finding comfort in shared humanity. I pray, audiences find it full of humor, honesty and heart. t

For younger audiences who know 9/11 primarily through history books, I hope the play provides something increasingly rare: the opportunity to experience the emotions of that moment through the voices of people who lived it.

For me, the story began with something very real – I sent out an email that included something I learned in the brownies – “make new friends and keep the old, one is silver and the other is gold.” For me, sending an email to everyone I cared about was absolutely necessary. Witnessing the crumbling tower from the train sent me into an emotional tail spin. I couldn’t find Jack – he was working at Indian Point and fighter planes were buzzing the Hudson River. Fighter planes were zipping over our house in Flagtown. There wasn’t enough pot or scotch to take care of how I felt. So, I started writing.

The emails I got back were about checking on people, offering comfort, sharing memories and simply making sure someone else knew they weren’t alone. I saved those messages. They became the foundation for E-mail: 9/12, originally written for the tenth anniversary of the attacks. That sense of connection remains at the heart of my play.

The play has been produced in the United States and published by Next Stage Press. E-Mail: dodici settembre is the Italian translation.

Since dinosaurs roamed the earth, Our Way Productions founder and American theatre director, George Hansel, has been my pal and artistic parter. For the tenth commemoration of 9/11, George brought E-mail: 9/12 to the stage in Asbury Park, New Jersey. Now, at the 25-year mark, he was determined to bring the play to Amsterdam – where is lives with his handsome husband, producer, Evert-Ben.

A perk – a production meeting with George in a fancy Den Haag hotel. Hmm, my colors clash with the rug.

I heard George tell the actors, “E-mail: 9/12 approaches the history from a different direction, asking audiences to remember not only the devastation of September 11, but the compassion, courage and connection that emerged on September 12.” 

People from the Netherlands were interviewed and their remembrances intertwined in the script. Happy to interview George, he too is one of the new characters specifically connected to the Dutch production. For its European premiere, a play born from my American emails hopefully has acquired a distinctly international perspective.

EUROPEAN PREMIERE! And I am shouting it from wherever I can. Thanks for putting up with me and my stepping into braggadocio.

Make new friends and keep the old, one is silver and the other gold. You my friends are all gold!

For ticket information or – since they are giving tickets to kids and folks who can’t afford them – buy a ticket as a donation, contact Our Way Productions, https://www.ourwayproductions.com/email-912.

Ci Vediamo,

Midge

Ferragosto at Borgo Cerquelle

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

It wasn’t the sun creeping in our windows that woke us up this beautiful, ferragosto morning. It was the braying of the donkeys in the field below our room.

The view from our Juliet balcony.

The happy sounds were the perfect welcome to Borgo Cerquelle! Wait, is that a rooster I hear? A goat? Borgo Cerquelle is an incredible agriturismo in the Sannio Hills.

Historically, ferragosto is celebrated by workers leaving work behind and heading to the country. Picnics, outings to the woods, trekking , dancing under the trees are a healthy way to forget about that job. Since I am too lazy to pack a picnic lunch and hike up the hill, Jack and I decided it was fitting for us to celebrate at Borgo Cerquelle! Where by the way, there are trails in the woods and lots of outdoor spaces.

A trip back in time.

It is impossible to come here and not gain a kilo or two. The food is exceptional. It is homemade fare, farm to table, and definitely prepared with love. Served family style, one becomes engaged with the other people at the table. At dinner last night we chatted with a couple from Benevento. Food, politics, what we all did in other lives and more food.

Today the place will be packed with people for lunch. Pranzo on ferragosto will be a luscious affair – and I didn’t have to make a thing. Afterwards, Jack and I may be forced to take a walk up to see the animals or we may sit in a chair in the shade, staring at the tower of Pontelandolfo down below 

Next time you come to Italy visit the real Italy, visit Borgo Cerquelle.

Ci vediamo 👋

Midge

Check out what Annarita Mancini and I put together.
Amazon.it and Amazon.com

Dance Festival Lessons

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

Ah, to be 20, 21, 22 and dancing at an international folk festival. (Who am I kidding, at 40 I would have been delighted.)

When we first got to Piazza Roma at about 7:30 PM Thursday night, on the stage, which is prominently placed in the middle of the piazza, there was a mass going on. What made the mass a lesson in global relations was the participation by the dancers sporting an international plethora of costumes. These dancers from three or four continents could have been Christians, Muslims, Jews or anything. Being at the mass was a sincere and loving way to share a cultural experience in an Italian piazza.

After the mass we moved to one of Tãwa’s comfortable outdoor tables. You remember Tãwa – our favorite Japanese restaurant in the world – which happens to sit right on Piazza Roma. From my table I saw the energy and excitement radiating from the piazza as it slowly filled up with people. Our hometown folkloric company, Ri Ualanegli, produces an annual folk dance festival that is incredibly professional. Well organized, artfully staged, and unites dancers in the creation of something magical for the greater good. Hey, politicians out there – the arts unite people – what a concept.

The companies are composed of young people. No, that’s a lie. I noticed some people with gray hair and in Ri Ualanegli there are some men and women in their 40s. However, to a woman in her third act, they all seem young. Sigh. Imagine, being young, unattached and on a great arts based adventure. There were companies from Kenya, Mexico, Island of Comore (French), Serbia and of course Italy. Performers travel long distances, eat together, dance together, play music together and share ideas. It’s a fabulous experience that increases one’s understanding that people all over the world are essentially the same. We all dance with the same kind of body. We all play instruments that elders taught us to play. Forget G7, BRICS, NATO, UN – we ought to send our leaders out to international arts based festivals. Maybe the world’s leaders would start to understand how important it is to appreciate the culture, the language, the costumes, and food of other people.

As Jack said, “it’s our tiny little town and we are representing the world as it should be.” We watched this incredible parade of performers and Pontelandolfese children that culminated on the stage with the flags of all the countries. All are interspersed, holding hands with such a gentleness toward each other. Such a feeling of togetherness.

Holding up the littlest baby, the presenter, Gabrielle Pallidino, said and this baby in the complete traditional costume of our village represents how the heritage continues to live on. It’s so astounding to see these little children, the perfect reproductions of our history, wearing with pride the outfits of our universal past. Enzo and Althea waited for the parade!

What was really amazing was sitting here and seeing all the small children from different countries who came with their dance groups playing and dancing right in front of the stage. It didn’t matter who was performing. The wee ones were all dancing with a certain sameness. There’s a lot of leaping and twirling. There’s a lot of jumping. There’s a lot of running back-and-forth. Children from different cultures with different languages playing together and brought together by music. This is the lesson to be learned. Time to learn it.

Ci vediamo,

Midge – Check out my website.

So Proud – The Italian and revised version of E-mail: 9/12 is available on Amazon.