Fernando Fiat loves an adventure as much as any other Fiat. (Those of you who have read Cars, Castles, Cows and Chaos have tracked his journeys.) The other morning I got up, looked at Fernando, shuddered and screamed “Where have you been?” The car was covered in sand! Did it take me on the quick trip to a beach on the Adriatic? Had it accompanied me to the neighboring village’s Beach Volleyball tournament? No! The 500 XL shuddered a bit and looked at me with “do you still love me“ headlight eyes.
Then it hit me – like a dune in the eye. Morocco! The high flying Sahara sands had covered my poor Fernando and he/she never got to enjoy Morocco. Seriously, there were no gifts on the back seat from open air bazaars, fabulous food containers were not perched on the back seat and make my tummy dance music was not playing on the radio. There was just sand. Years ago Mario, my cousin Carmella’s husband had explained the Moroccan connection. Being a testa dura, I had put the story away as folklore. Bo, it isn’t lore! Look at Fernando!
Itchy sand covers Fernando.
Everyone here knows about the sand. Everyone but me believes it comes from Morocco. I did what any baby boomer would do, I googled it. There are websites dedicated to the flow of the Sahara sand from Africa to Europe, the Caribbean and even the United States! Even NASA follows sand storms! NASA, seems to like the sand, and alerts us to this hurricane factoid – hurricanes hate flying sand! More sand means fewer hurricanes.
Dust plays a major role in Earth’s climate and biological systems. Since it is rich with iron and other minerals that plants and phytoplankton need, it provides natural fertilizer for ecosystems when it lands downwind. The airborne particles also absorb and reflect sunlight—altering the amount of solar energy reaching the planet’s surface. Dust can also promote or reduce cloud and storm formation, depending on other atmospheric conditions.
According to that same NASA article. Dust sounds like a good thing.
Living in Southern Italy I learn something new every day! Usually, it is about preserving a healthy harvest. I never thought that the unwashed Fernando Fiat could help me understand that sand, a simple grain, can have such a global impact.
I am blessed to have – E-mail: 9/12, Wanda the Girl who Cried Witch, Many Snows Ago and soon Mamma Mia – La Befana?! – all published by Next Stage Press.
Sunday, September 12th, featuring the work of Rito Ruggiero, the veranda in front of our house was transformed into an outdoor gallery. We had two days to pull it off. The framed collection of work arrived Friday night. As we catalogued and created labels for the twenty pieces, our delight in Rito’s unschooled talent increased. Saturday morning, Jack, Rossella Mancini, my partner, and I went into overdrive. I only threw a hammer at Jack once – it missed.
Speaking of my husband, Jack Huber, he has an incredible eye for composition. (He married me didn’t he.) I have to give him all the credit for designing and hanging the show. Rossella and I were his somewhat able assistants. Saturday evening all the pieces were in place. The stage was dressed and we snapped pictures to continue our outpouring of digital publicity. Then we struck the set! Yup, we took all the work down. WHAT! The show was outdoors. Even though we have a gated home, between the weather and the potential for thievery we had to bring everything back into the house. Jack had made a diagram of what went where. I gulped and thought “how the hell are we going to do this on Sunday?”
Sunday morning the blue skies and bright sun created the perfect backdrop for the show. Annarita Mancini, my incredibly talented assistant, arrived and put on the caffè. Rossella and her terrific kids, Annalaura and Alessio, raced in. Everyone leaped into the fray. Silver arrows soon could be followed directly to our house. The veranda was swept, mopped and tweaked. Nicola Ciarlo arrived with flowers and arranged greenery. Jack’s diagram was essential – the art was rehung. Tables were set, viewing chairs set. Food and wine delivered. Annalaura took her place behind the bar. The giant banner was hung on the gate. More pictures were taken and quickly posted on social media. Our energetic team did a stellar job. Then I panicked.
Would anyone come? We had press in the daily paper, tons of social media inserts, direct invitations and wine – lots of wine. But would anyone come? At 3:59 PM I felt like a kid impatiently waiting for her birthday party to start. Rito arrived with his family. My stomach was in knots. Bing. 4:00 PM – no one. Merde. 4:10 PM the parade started. People came alone, in groups, with families or friends. I smiled and took a breath.
Rito, in blue, greets Carmine Fusco who arrived with a surprise.Rito had drawn this when he was twelve. That was over 70 years ago. Carmine, a local historian had it in his collection.
We were quite pleased with the number of guests that not only came, but also purchased art. Our social media generated requests for information from potential buyers in the United States. For me, the highlight of the day was watching Rito do gallery tours for interested people. Explaining not only his technique but the inspiration and location of each piece. At one point, a group of the village’s young business people came and were asking questions, commenting and engaging with Rito in a passionate discourse.
Then it was over. Guests left, all was packed up, leftover wine was drunk and the team took a breath and went out to dinner. A celebration of accomplishment was in order. And you all wonder how I spend my time in a small Southern Italian village! Come to Pontelandolfo and see!
P.S. My 9/11 based play, E-mail: 9/12 will be available from publisher, Next Stage Press, on October 1st. Besides being a play, it would be a great addition to a High School or University history curriculum.
I have always been really afraid of being somewhere and not having enough money to pay the bill. Maybe it is because when we were little, we really didn’t have enough money. In my earlier lean adult years, I would count my cash down to the penny and search the car seats for more. The thought of getting to the cash register cashless was one of those nightmares I never wanted to have, but often did. To this day, I check my purse and make sure my wallet is there. Then I check my wallet to make sure the money that was there last night is still there this morning. Minutes before entering a store, I again open my wallet to triple check for money. Maybe it is paranoia. Maybe I’m horrified of once again tossing stuff on the supermarket belt, watching the prices cha ching into the cash register, realizing I don’t have enough money and yanking things off the belt. This ever happen to you? Did you sink down below the counter? Frantically start pulling things off the belt? Or do what I have done, drop my head down in shame and slither away?
In Pontelandolfo, where everybody knows your name, not only is that not something for me to worry about, but I have had a hard time getting people to let me pay them. Trust and sense of community are important aspects of life in our little village.
True examples –
Jack went to our supermarket, Gran Risparmio, and filled the cart with things we needed. He never checks to see if his wallet is there or if someone picked his pocket. Oops, maybe he should have. He went to pay and was €20 short. Did he sink below the counter? Nope, the man at the register packed up the groceries, handed them to Jack and said pay me later. I was so embarrassed and ran back to pay. They were shocked to see us so soon.
Another day, I was behind an older woman in Conad, another miniature supermarket, she was mildly confused about what she was buying, what she was cooking for pranza and where her wallet was. Mariagrazia, the super nice cashier, looked at her smiled and said, “I know you will be back and you will have your wallet then.” It took all my actor training to remain uninvolved in the story. I wanted to A.Pay for her. B.Leap over the counter and kiss Mariagrazia. It was such a gentle moment and obviously one that has been repeated. My gut reaction was that someone else would be in later to pay for her.
One night, I bought a large group to Sesto Senso, my favorite local eatery. We had a fabulous seafood meal, enjoyed bottles of wine and sipped digestivos. I walked up to the cash register with a credit card in hand. Claudio swiped it in the machine. Then he swiped it again. I started to sweat. Shit, had I forgotten to pay the bill? Claudio, looked at me and said the machine doesn’t work. It has been happening all day. Pay us next time you come.
During the festa to end all festas – my 7 events for 7 decades birthday week – I booked a number of people to work with me, ordered all kinds of food and booze, hired musicians, a theater company, caterers and more. Getting prices was difficult. Creating a budget became such a nightmare that I soon tossed it into the nightmare trash barrel. Questa é Italia! Go with the flow.
We have an exceptional bakery, Diglio Forno, I ordered a carload of stuff for my British Tea Party. When I asked if they wanted a deposit they looked at me like I was crazy.
We have a talented guy, Vittorio, who provides theatrical lighting and sound for many of the major events in the region. I asked him to handle the technical aspects of my birthday weeks two public events. Getting a price was hard but getting him to take the money during the show was even harder. He too looked at me like I was from another planet. I found out that it often takes him months to be paid by the towns that hire him. I was an anomaly. Could I get one person to instantly accept the cash I had for them in an envelope? Don’t worry. Pay me later. Pay me after the show. Pay me next time I see you. Don’t worry!
During our Cooking in the Kitchens of Pontelandolfo events we book hotel rooms for our guests and are never asked for a deposit. Actually, we end up paying after our group has left. The vineyards we visit for a food and wine parings, the agriturismo that hosts our welcoming luncheon and other collaborators never give us a bill but trust us to pay them. Trust. I think that is what living in a small village generates. Trust.
When I am not in town and need to send flowers for a funeral or birthday, I call Nella at her flower shop. She doesn’t ask for a credit card. She doesn’t tell me what it will cost. She simply creates an arrangement and delivers the flowers. When I am back, I pay her.
It isn’t that folks don’t want to be paid or don’t feel they deserve their stipend. I believe it has to do with a real sense of community. More than community, it is a sense of family. Those of us who live here are part of the familial fabric of the village. Family who treats each other like family. I’m guessing strangers in our midst might not be extended the same courtesy.
People who provide services, own shops or restaurants know their community. They know were their clients live. Know is the operative word. Knowing your neighbor and knowing who you can trust. Sadly, shop keepers tell me, that also means knowing who you can’t trust.
I think one of the reasons I feel so connected to Pontelandolfo – besides the fact that I can feel my nonna here – is that the life style and sense of community reminds me of the Flagtown, New Jersey. Growing up in Flagtown,when the dinosaurs roamed the earth, I spent my youth knowing everyone in that village and not worrying about falling off my bike because someone would pick me up. There was the same sense of familial community that I am blessed with in Pontelandolfo.
Kids fighting fires. Kids finding lost kids in the woods. Kids rappelling down from a building. Kids assessing environmental risks. KIDS??? Thirty-eight lucky children between the ages of ten and thirteen got to explore exactly what it means to be part of Italy’s volunteer safety net, Protezione Civile. They also got an adrenal rush and I’m sure will consider becoming future volunteers.
Volunteers are a cornerstone of Pontelandolfo life. They organize arts activities, social events, parish festivals and most important of all ensure that Pontelandolfese are safe, secure and assisted in time of need. On call 24 hours a day, Protezione Civile Pontelandolfo, Civil Protection, is an organization of a highly trained and committed residents who are willing to leap into the fray whenever there is an emergency. On the news, you have seen volunteers like them, in their yellow trimmed uniforms, helping with search and rescue after earthquakes, floods etc. In Pontelandolfo, I have watched them do traffic control, handle snow emergencies, guide people to safety, assist the Italian Red Cross and essentially intervene whenever it was necessary. Click here for an example of their role with a 2015 flood and wind that knocked more than our sox off.
Italians have big hearts and have always had a willingness to lend a hand. After citizens mobilized independently to assist with the huge disasters that hit Italy in a fifty-year period, like the floods of Florence in 1966 and the Friuli and Irpinia earthquakes, it was recognized that an organized public system of deployment was necessary. In 1992, Protezione Civile, the National Service of Civil Protection, by law became an integral part of the public system.
This is serious business. The region organizes drills which simulate real risk situations. Since we live in an earthquake zone, our village hosted an earthquake drill.
It is so serious, that future leaders and volunteers are fostered through an annual exceptional week long summer camp. With the support of the National Department of Civil Protection, the Comune of Pontelandolfo and in collaboration with Protezione Civile di Fragneto L’Abate, Gruppo Comunale di Protezione Civile di Bisaccia, and Protezione Civile Irpinia di San Potito Ultra, Stefano Baldini, the head of our local Protezione Civile, and his team of volunteers organized Il Campo Scuola2019.
This coed camp had all the cool out door experiences.
From July 1 through July 7 this year, kids did the usual camp stuff like setting up and sleeping in a tent, they also were immersed in theoretical and practical civil protection training courses. What school in the summer??? Who would want to do that?? These kids certainly did. Besides it wasn’t all work and no play. Some of the work looked pretty exciting. The young trainees had to apply for admittance. The program was totally free! Participants came from Pontelandolfo, Morcone, Fragneto Monforte, Bisaccia, Sant’Angelo A Cupolo, San Potito, Aquilonia and Flumeri. Bringing kids from a variety of towns together makes sense. All of the individual Protezione Civile groups often work with each other. If it is an emergency or a giant festa that needs crowd control, we see uniforms from a variety of places. The kids working together at this age starts the collaboration ball rolling.
I remember being forced to go to Camp Speers ripping my forearm with a bow string and belly crawling with a 22 rifle. I hated every minute of it. If there had been some academic portion or if the firing a rifle was being taught for a real purpose I might not have fought tooth and nail not to go.
Nope, not injured. Just learning how to carry an injured person.
These campers got lots of physical activity and real-world experiences. Here is a quick overview – set up a field operation – yup put up the tents, rig electrical system etc.; over view of the National Civil Protection system; municipal contingency plans – what?? I have to pause here and tell Jack. My husband spent most of his adult career working in emergency preparedness planning. I bet after this camp some of these kids could write better municipal contingency plans than some of the town plans Jack read when he was with the State Police.
OK, back to the grueling week – they had a lesson on cartography ( I had to look the word up – science of drawing maps); figuring out territory orientation; using a map and a single compass figuring out a path through Mountain Cavello to lunch! No one got lost!!! I would have been found weeks later sitting on a log begging to go home. These kids were GREAT!.
How many stories up is this??
After a lesson on the seismic conditions of our region and what to do if an earthquake hits, these kids leaped to another disaster. What do you do if someone is trapped high up on a hill with a broken leg or in a burning building? You use a safety harness, zip wire or rappel.
Team effort of numerous Protezione Civile groups.
I’m exhausted just writing about all that they accomplished. And the list goes on – fire safety and protection, hydroeological risks (looked this up too – distribution and movement of groundwater in the soil and rocks of the Earth’s crust), use of radios for communication, working with canine units, forest fire rescues, searching for missing people, working with people with disabilities and…….
Complimenti! Bravi!
The kids who will be the leaders of tomorrow deserve a big round of applause and so do the volunteers of Protezione Civile Pontelandolfo who give their time, energy and love to our little village.
Can we talk? Sometimes life in my charming little Italian village makes me want to scream! Or if not scream, shake the powers that be until sense falls into place. It snowed. This is an anomaly here – especially in December. Last December it felt like fall. Those weather belts do keep changing. No one expects snow in December – maybe that is why I should have a kinder gentler feeling about… errrrrgggg.. that scream is bubbling up again.
We knew it would snow because I received numerous alerts from the town that said it might snow for three days – “make sure you have fuel for heat, food and something to keep you from going stir crazy.” Being from the North East of America where we scoff at snow, plows are out instantly and we drive in anything, I thought the alerts were a little over the top. NOT!
We had a house full of holiday guests and plans to go out and do holiday centered stuff – then it snowed. Day one – snow – about an inch – no one plowed or salted the local streets. OK, not a big deal. I know money is tight and we can drive over this. Downtown, no one had shoveled the sidewalks either. Hmmm, aren’t building owners responsible for that? Not a big deal – again only an inch. Local holiday events were cancelled and even worse news – restaurants were closed – hey, it was only an inch but still coming down.
A Gorgeous Inch of Snow Frosted the Mountains.
Day two – more snow – a lot more snow and we had to get my niece to the train station in Boiano. We heard the state highway was closed going west. Luckily, we had to go east. The local roads were not plowed or salted. Ice reigned supreme. We slowly left town and got to the highway. Now this is interesting. The highway in Campania was fairly clean and salted. The minute we crossed the regional line to Molise the highway had only been given one earlier pass with a plow, however the exit ramps were clean. Don’t the regions coordinate this stuff? We got to Boiano and back and cruised our village piazza. Nope, the sidewalks still had snow and ice and the piazza hadn’t been cleared. Shops were closed – I’m glad we had the necessities of life in the house – eggs, bread and wine.
Day three – lots more snow. I mean tons of snow. How would we get the last of our guests to their train in Benevento? Yesterday, the road was closed. First step, dig out the car. Done. Second step, dig out the top of the driveway near the unplowed road. Done. Third step – do we have to freakin’ dig out the street???? The train was due late in the afternoon, we figured we had some options. Sleds pulled by snow sheep sounded like the best idea. It stopped snowing – that was a good sign. Before the top of my head blew off, a back hoe started ambling up our road tossing snow off the middle of the street. Note, I said back hoe not a plow. He made a narrow path up the center of the road. We – OK not WE – Jack dug us to the center. We got in the car and wondered what we would find. Again, the state highway was pristine. The views were fabulous and since Benevento is at a much lower altitude it was an easy snowless drive.
Clean Highway and Luscious View
Later that afternoon when we got back to Pontelandolfo, we noted that the piazza still hadn’t been cleared and the sidewalks were awful. I asked about that and found out that building owners don’t have to clean in front of their buildings. So, obviously they don’t. Store owners only shoveled the boots width necessary to get into their shops. Don’t ya think it is time for a new piece of local legislation? The cobblestone piazza isn’t plowed, I investigated and discovered, one can’t plow on cobblestone – how about a snow blower or a shovel??? I don’t know the science but couldn’t they at least spread salt??? I do understand not plowing local mountain roads until it absolutely stops snowing – fiscal constraints and all that. BLEH, I really don’t but questa è la nostra vita.
There are somethings towns in Southern Italy do well. There are other things – not so well. The snow – well now I know – when you get the alert make sure you have heating fuel, food and lots of booze in the house. Jack just read this and pointed out – we did get wherever we needed to go. Get over it. Take a breath, look at the snow capped mountains and sigh at the beauty. Questa è Italia!
Cripes, look at the time, I bellowed. Sweat was pouring off my brow and my clothes were frankly disgusting. Rossella Mancini and I were setting up an art exhibit and had been collecting and cataloguing pieces all day. The show would run for seven days and the opening was gulp – in two days. We were juggling artigianale items – incredible hand loomed fabrics, straw woven into sculptures, wood carvings – with paintings by contemporary artists. Our idea was to demonstrate how the traditional crafts of a community had a direct impact on the work of younger artists.
No, I screeched, leave her sitting at a table – wait, I’ll add one of the purses.
A painting, waiting to be placed, had been sitting on a little table and propped up on a column. With a little swatch of red cloth, a handmade purse and an empty chair, the painting of a young women in a bikini by Angelo Palladino became one of the “scenes” in the gallery. Rossella and I were both racing around madly trying to get it all pulled together. The program booklet?! We need to design and write something and get it to the printer tonight.
I looked at my watch again. We had seconds to run down the street to the book launch produced by a group of young friends. As we raced down the block, from the opposite direction we could hear the tech crew setting up an outdoor stage. Tomorrow night an International Folk Dance Festival opened.
Good, there is a line to get in – No one will know we are late. Cripes, I hope no one I know is here.
Looking like something the proverbial cat dragged in, I said hi to folks I knew and dropped into a seat. Wow, I thought, the glitterati is out tonight. Not only was the audience well dressed, they all had come early – that must mean something “hot” is happening tonight. The performance space looked incredible – from the comfortable overstuffed turquise couch and coffee table on the stage, to the display of art photos by the incredible Salvatore Griffini, to the piano and guitarist primed to play – the tone was set for an interesting evening. Taking a breath and hoping no one sat too close to me, I was hit in the head with the boing boing of an epiphany. This very second, we could be anywhere the arts flourish – in a swank artsy neighborhood in Brooklyn or Downtown Manhattan or Chicago or Austin – BUT WE WEREN’T. We were in a tiny little southern Italian village – Pontelandolfo. A place where the young and the old make art.
The evening was produced by “Liberia Tutti”, a group of young writers, actors, artists and musicians. They had joined forces to produce the book launch in support of photographer, Salvatore Griffini, whose work was in the book. The evening hummed as Liberi Tutti embraced all art forms from vocals supported by piano or guitar, a Brechtian monologue superbly preformed by Gianmarco Castaldi, to a wonderful reading by the talented author Martina del Negro. Frankly, the editor of the self-published book being launched spoke and I had to suppress my yawns. Professor Renato Rinaldi, the driving force of the Pontelandolfo News was one of the highlights for me. What he said reached into my heart and moved me to tears. I hope it will move you.
Chi sa musica, chi sa arte, che sa danza, chi sa teatro, chi sa letteratura, chi sa poesia, sa Pontelandolfo. He who knows music, he who knows dance, he who knows theatre, he who knows literature, he who knows poetry, knows Pontelandolfo.
The art show opened, dance companies from throughout Europe performed, bands
Here I am moments before the opening. I cleaned up pretty well.
played and the first week of August – Festival Week – tired us aging second actors out but reinforced the words of Renato. He who knows the arts understands our little corner of the world.
How can I not be excited! It it a political season and I am a political junky. Proudly as Democrats abroad, Jack and I voted in the New Jersey Primary absentee and early. Now, we get to vote again in the Pontelandolfo local election. Politics is in my DNA!
Rossella Mancini For City Council
Hoorah, we get to vote for Rossella Mancini, our cousin and the other force behind the Cooking in the Kitchens of Pontelandolfo program. Those of you that know my family or have followed me for a while, know that politics really is in our DNA. Tante anni fa, my nonno, with a group of other Italian immigrants, started the Flagtown-Hillsborough Democratic Club. My dad, John Guerrera, was a democratic icon in Somerset County, NJ, serving as Mayor of Hillsborough, on a variety of boards including the Board of Elections and Tax board, the Executive Director of the County organization and a political operative for many national and state wide campaigns.
Dad’s Head Shot for his Senate Run
That means when I was old enough to lick a stamp and close an envelope, I was involved in a bunch of political stuff too. It was addictive.
Politics in Pontelandolfo reminds me of the door to door campaigns that my Dad ran in the 1960s and 70s and that I ran in the 70’s and 80’s. It was a kinder gentler kind of campaigning and one that truly engaged the electorate. Here, campaigns by law are limited to 30 days. HEAR THAT USA ONLY 30 DAYS OF POSTERS, PHONE CALLS AND ADVERTISING. What a welcome change.
Rossella, accompanied by friends and family has been visiting homes, talking about the platform of her ticket and getting honest – historically they have been honest – responses. Here, folks will actually tell you they will vote for you, or if not, who they intend to vote for and why. I have been with her on some of these house calls and actually heard a pal of mine tell her that he liked her a lot but was voting for his other pal’s son. Talk about a divergence from the American system.
Having lived in Asbury Park, NJ before they changed the form of government, I sort of understand how it works here. Every 5 years, someone who wants to be sindaco – mayor – asks 10 people to join him/her on La Lista. The 10 people on the list could become the consiglio, council-people. Here is the rub – only 7 will serve. The other three spots will be comprised of the minoranza – people from the loosing tickets who were top vote getters for their ticket. Each of the voters in a city of 15,000 people or less – we have way less – only get to vote for one person. The cumulative total of all votes cast for people on one list, determines the winning list. Automatically that person who is denoted as sindaco becomes the mayor and the top 7 vote getters are on the council. The other three – out of luck. What does that mean? It means, if you want to have a seat at the table, you have to get more votes than other people on your ticket!
Now this is PC – voters in towns with more than 15,000 residents can vote for two people and one – by law – must be a woman! Huzzah! The law is called Quatarosa and recognizes how few women were represented in local government. It truly was an old boys club. The list that Rossella is on has three women on it.
There is another piece of the election that I find difficult to understand. If I were a pazillionaire, I could swing an election. The most recent census says that Pontelandolfo has 2,288 residents, including children, and 3082 registered voters! WHAT!!!! That is 794 more voters than residents. Normally, about 1500 people – who are actual local residents – vote in local and federal elections. The rest of the registered voters could be young people working in other parts of the EU or some of the thousands of Pontelandolfese who immigrated to Waterbury, Connecticut or Montreal or Argentina. Shazam, it looks like they never purge the voter’s list. Absentee voting is not allowed. For a local election you have to physically be in Pontelandolfo, make your way to the polling place, write your candidate’s name in a blank and wander to the local bar or home to wait for the results.
What this literally means is, if I could charter a plane with my 500 best East Coast Pontelandolfese pals and they accepted my free ride so they could vote in the local election, one could change the outcome. Like I said, SHAZAM!
The other piece that is strange to us New Jersey voters, is that if a race is uncontested – only one list is formed – there is no election. Someone from a higher level of government will come in an appoint your officials. No uncontested elation’s here – even if second list is composed of smoke and mirrors.
There is so much I have to learn about politics, life, traditions and culture. Guess I need to hang out here for a few more years. Meanwhile, this Sunday, I will be voting for Rossella Mancini for city council!
Bravo! This February 12th, Forum Giovani di Pontelandolfo produced E Fuori Nevica! The young actors had only planned on one performance – wrong! The show was so well recieved that an encore performance is being presented stasera, tonight, Friday, February 24, 2017.
2’nd Chance to See the Play!
Enthusiasm for the actors, the play and the project has moved beyond the boundaries of Pontelandolfo. The play will also be touring to Casalduni and Fragnetto! Whew – my enthusiasm is leaping ahead. You’re probably wondering who, what, where…
WHO:Forum Giovani di Pontelandolfois the association of young adults that actively endeavors to bring culture, entertainment and a grand good time to the village. Many of them were involved in the July, 2016 collaborative theatrical production of Sacro di Santa Giocondina. The production was so well received and such a positive experience for the young thespians that they wanted to continue to bring quality theater to the community.
“It’s Snowing Outside” presented in Teatro San Rocco
The comedy deals with the familiar theme of family relationships and dealing with a handicapped sibling. The characters include: the burgeoning musician, Enzo, played by Gennaro Santopietro; Cico, suffering from autism, played by Antonio Del Ciampo (President of the Forum); Giovanni Ruggiero plays Stefano, the brother with an excessive sense of responsibility; and Valerio Mancini (my handsome cousin in blue blazer) plays the notary. Paola Corbo and Jonathan Moavero provided technical support.
WHAT: E Fuori Nevica! by Vincenzo Salemme is the tale of three brothers thrust together by their mother’s death. In order for the three men to inherit from mom, they had to live together . That means three incredibly different personalities – including an autistic adult, obsessive, and bopper – find themselves in the same house. The story is hilarious, touching and heartfelt. Author, Salemme, born in Bacoli, Province of Naples, is a familiar comedic actor and writer. He worked with the prestigious company of Eduardo De Filippo and has written and starred in numerous films. You might recognize him from the RAI series Da Nord a Sud… e ho detto tutto!
WHERE: The City Council granted Forum Giovani free use of sala-teatro Papa Giovanni Paolo. The multi purpose room is behind Chiesa San Rocco on Via San Rocco.
I am in New Jersey and this is happening tonight in Pontelandolfo! ERRRRRRRRG.
Nonna's Mulberry Tree 