Tag: Pontelandolfo

Cittadina Italiana – Citizenship

by midgeguerrera, posted in Finding My Family - Genealogy, Practical Matters - Living Abroad, Uncategorized

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In 2007 my mug graced my brand new Italian Passport.  The process to become a Cittadina Italiana took me about three years and numerous trips to the Philadelphia Consulate.  It took my sister less than one year and two trips to the Newark Consulate.  It took my niece (her picture is above) about 6 months.  It will take my cousin about three years plus.  WHAT????  Let  us start at the beginning. The questions most people ask me are these: Why would you do it?  What is the benefit of having dual citizenship?   Is the process difficult? How much did it cost you?

Why would I do it?

Why wouldn’t I do it is more like it.  In the early 1990’s I started actively researching the Guerrera Family Tree.  Piece by piece, I was collecting data, adding branches and getting more and more involved with the lives of people I had never met. To get a better handle on the research, I knew that I had to go to Pontelandolfo and visit the archives of the commune.  Zia Caterina, Jack and I made that journey in 1995 – another blog will tell you that whole story.  We not only added numerous branches to the tree but discovered my father and Zia Caterina’s first cousins!  When Zia Caterina and I had gone to Italy in the 70’s their uncles were still living – we missed an incredible opportunity then.  After meeting my extended Italian family, I became even more obsessed with all things Italian.  Particularly, all things related to this small village in Campania, Pontelandolfo. While we were there I bought a few copies of my grandmother’s and grandfather’s birth certificates and certificate of marriage.  That was an incredibly smart thing to do since folks have told me it is difficult to retrieve those documents via mailed requests – unless you use a service like http://myitalianfamily.com.

Nonno & Nonna
Nonno and Nonna

A quick search on line revealed that I was indeed eligible for citizenship – an act which would bring me even closer to my roots.  There was no “aha” moment or benefits lightbulb that exploded in my brain – just the deep seated need to be closer to my “i parenti,”  the DNA that makes me who I am.

What is the benefit?

How American of us to want to know what the hell we get out of the deal.  Like feeling closer to ones heritage isn’t enough!  Well, let me think what do I get out of it?  If Jack and I really do retire to Italy we are already part of the Italian community. During the Bush Jr. years, My sister and I did talk about moving quickly forward so that if the draft was reinstated and we didn’t particularly agree with the why behind the war we could get her kids out.  Now, that might have been our 1960’s sensibilities kicking in, because  Italy had mandatory service until January 1, 2005.   The other benefit is being able to work anywhere in the European Union – a benefit that my niece is actively using.  Further, I can stay in Italy or any of the Schengen Treaty countries for as long as I like – no ninety days for me!  ( Of course we are only staying 90 days this trip because Jack hasn’t applied for spousal citizenship yet.)  The USA State Department explains all this. http://travel.state.gov/travel/cis_pa_tw/cis/cis_4361.html   OK, I am bored with the what is the benefit idea – the benefit is IT MAKES ME HAPPY.

What is the process?

Ah, this is tricky!  In the over ten years since my family has gone through this process it has changed based on who we spoke to in which consulate and new regulations.  Here is the basic tenet – if one of your parents was an Italian citizen at the time of your birth – no matter where you are born – than you by blood are an Italian citizen.  Yikes, my dad was born in Manville, NJ – does that disqualify me?  No!  My grandparents had not become American citizens until after my dad’s birth.  That automatically made him an Italian citizen living abroad.  Did my father know that? No!  When I explored the process I explained it to him and he couldn’t believe it.  He had served as a Navy pilot during WWII, had been Mayor of our home town – how could he also be an Italian citizen?  Guess what – lots of you probably are eligible – here is what is currently on The Italian Embassy Website.

CITIZENSHIP BY DESCENT / DESCENT (” jure sanguinis “)  And ‘the son of an Italian citizen parents (father or mother) Italian citizens. Citizenship is transmitted from parents to children regardless of generation, with the condition that none of their ancestors ever renounced the nationality.

Go to the web site to read all of the rules and regulations. 

http://www.esteri.it/MAE/IT/Italiani_nel_Mondo/ServiziConsolari/Cittadinanza.htm

The first step is to discover when the elder of your Italian American family became a citizen.  We were lucky, my Zia Caterina saved everything.  Including her dad’s certificate of citizenship.

We still have the original!
We still have the original!

Since my dad didn’t know he was an Italian citizen, he didn’t renounce it.  When he found out, he was thrilled and admitted he never would have renounced it.  OK, I had the blood line covered.  Now what – this is the story of what I went through.  Next will be my sister’s story, then my niece and finally my cousin.

Midge’s Story:

I hop over to the Italian Consulate in Philadelphia and ask for a list of the requirements for citizenship.  At that time it listed things like : Birth and Death Certificates of my Grandfather,  Naturalization Certificate of my Grandfather, Marriage Certificate to my Grandmother, Birth Certificate of my Grandmother,Birth Certificate of my Father, Marriage Certificate of My Parents, Birth Certificate of Midge, Marriage License and Certificate of Midge, Birth Certificate of Midge’s Husband.  Easy – no brainer!  When I had the time, I drove from city to city in New Jersey and New York and bought the required documents.  Full of myself for accomplishing this, I waltzed into the Philadelphia Consulate without an appointment.  They took me into a secret room and I waited.  After about a half an hour of staring at the art, a lovely woman pulled me into an office and looked at my fat folder.  She smiled an said I was on the right track but needed an apostile for each document.  An apostile?  Wasn’t that one of the men who travelled with Jesus?  Turns out an apostile is a certificate from a state that guarantees that the documents that I just bought from a variety of towns were valid.  OK, so on the way home I stop in Trenton and go to the apostile office.  They explain that they can’t put an apolstile on any of the documents that I just dropped a couple of hundred dollars on because I didn’t buy them from the NJ Office of Vital Statistics. But, I stammered, the oficies of vital statistics in each town were happy to take my money.  A week or so later, I go back to Trenton and buy all of the same documents.  Since there were so many I had to have them processed.   That took a few weeks – when I got them guess what they looked like?  The same bloody pieces of paper but they originated from the NJ Office of Vital Statistics!  Off to pay for the apostiles.  I don’t remember what all this cost me but I think about $25 a piece of paper times two.  If you order documents online there are additional fees. This is from the NJ Office of Vital Statistics:

How do I obtain a record with an Apostille Seal? You must purchase a copy of your vital record from the Office of Vital Statistics and Registry and indicate on your application that it is needed for Apostille Seal. You will receive a certified copy, which contains the original signature of the State Registrar or Assistant State Registrar. You must forward this certificate to the Department of Treasury requesting an Apostille Seal.

Since my parents were married in New York City, it took a full day to gather the documents from NYC Boro Hall and then walk a few blocks to the State of New York Office to request the apostille. During each step of the process, I purchased additional copies of every document so that my sister would have a set.  When I had a completed set, I made an appointment at the Philadelphia Consulate and carried the box in.  I did make a copy of my entire packet, just so that I knew what I submitted.  About one and a half years later I got a letter from Pontelandolfo saying that I was a citizen.  Wheeeeeeeeooooooooooo.

Sister Susan:

Susan had copies of all of the documents.  When she got around to doing this, residents of Somerset County New Jersey were told to use the Consulate in Newark.  We read the website and made an appointment for her – it was about four months out.  We also read the new regulations – she needed a translation of every document – including the apostiles.  You were only allowed to use an Italian translater from the consulate’s approved list.  That cost her about $50 a document.  This was all done via e-mail.  We scanned the documents and sent them off.  Scanned translations came back.  This was great we thought – because now my cousin Maryellen can use the same translations.  Susan took her two children to the appointment.  We figured we would process everyone at the same time.  WRONG.  Susan had to be certified first.  She was missing something – I can’t remember what – but I do remember pleading and begging with the consulate employee because whatever it was I knew was on file from me in Pontelandolfo. Susan made a second appointment and returned with whatever had been left on the dining room table.  During the second visit, she is given a document that she is told her daughter can use to prove lineage and easily apply for citizenship.  We go for dinner and a drink or three.  Just a few months later Susan gets her letter of recognition.

Niece Alex:

Alex lives and goes to university in London.  I suggested she use the London Consulate.  She took her handy document from Newark and back up documents and headed to that office.  They told her she needed to supply the same complete package that her mother had submitted and that the little certificate from Newark was nothing. UGGGGG.  All of this is now done electronically, Alex asked if they couldn’t just get the same documents sent back to them?  No.  Another appointment please.  Oh yeah, now we have to make the packet and get it to London!  She brings the packet and is nervous about completion.  She would like to stay and work in Europe and the EU Passport would be very helpful.  Months go by and she hears nothing.  She visits and e-mails the London Consulate and they say all things were e-mailed to Pontelandolfo.  We asked our cousin to visit the Pontelandolfo office of Vital Statistics and check on Alex’s status.  Instantly, her paperwork was done and her certification sent off.

Formal Letter
Formal Letter

Cousin Maryellen:

Takes all of the same documents – but adds her dad’s information – translated and in a cute folder to her appointment at the Newark Consulate.  There, she doesn’t get past the triage dude.  You see, my grandfather’s birth certificate from Italy says Francesco Guerrera but his citizenship papers say Frank Guerrera – how do we know it is the same person?  This name change – a common occurrence – happened with her father’s documents and our grandmothers.  They told her nothing could be processed until she got the documents certified as belonging to the same person.  I was with her and argued up a storm, explaining that two of us had already used the exact same documents and gotten citizenship. Further, all of the documents were already on file in Pontelandolfo.  He shrugged.  We left and Maryellen hasn’t moved the process forward. So lessons learned.  Double check everything.  Read all new regulations.  If you can, have a local relative in Italy lobby for you! What did it cost me?  Do we count the trip to Italy to buy the birth and marriage certificates?  I’d say if you include travel and all the mistakes I made it cost me about $1,000.  It cost my sister about the same because it was $50 a document for translation plus the cost of the original documents and apostile.

Was it worth it?

Hell yes!

Fiori di Zucca Fritta – Fried Squash Blossoms

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

Gardens all over Pontelandolfo are bursting with zucchini flowers.  Folks plant tons of plants – not because they are looking for an abundance of zucchini to give to their neighbors, but so they can eat the blossoms!

First step was to pick the flowers.  In Flagtown, NJ where we have tried to plant zucchini, the deer get there first.  Here in Pontelandolfo, deer are not a problem.  Midge, who loves fried zucchini flowers, is the natural predator.  Today, when I got back to our house Zia Vittoria,our fabulous landlady, walked out and said don’t cook – I have fiori di zucca.  Well, I don’t really know what she said because she speaks the dialect of the village and I only understand about 10 %.  But – I saw the flowers –  and I knew where she was going.  So, I volunteered to help her fry up a batch and learn her technique.  I’ve made these too and my recipe is a bit different.  We will follow Zia Vittoria’s recipe and talk about mine later.

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Flour, eggs, salt and tad of yeast powder. Let it sit a bit.

It looked and felt like the consistency of pancake batter – or a Bisquick batter.  She had it resting in front of a sunny window and it was uncovered.

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How pretty those sweet things are.

The zucchini blossoms were fairly large.  First we popped off the stems. (I’ve never seen that done before)  Then we washed them and let them drain.

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Squish and they are flatter and bigger looking.

This next step was totally new to me.  She took a dish towel, hand dried each blossom and flattened it.  Just a bit of pressure between two sections of the dish towel.

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Blossoms just floating in batter.

Then she dumped a bunch of them into the batter and let them sit a while.

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Most village homes have more than one kitchen. The working kitchen where you make really messy stuff, like huge vats of sauce, smoke prosciutto, can vegetables etc. This home has a working kitchen in a small separate house – with a huge fireplace and wood burning oven – they really do smoke meat there.

Meanwhile she choose a small frying pan with high sides and filled it about 3/4’s of the way with olive oil.  She ladled the oil from a big vat in her working kitchen.  I was shocked!  We have all been told for years not to deep fry in olive oil.  I asked her and she said something like, ” why should I buy oil to fry in when we make our own perfectly fine olive oil.”  I waited to see if it would smoke or flame or turn us into strega – but no it worked perfectly fine.

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Gentle does it!

The next step was to gently turn each blossom in the batter.  She used a flick of her wrist and didn’t tear one flower.

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At this point my mouth waters.

By now the oil was sizzling and bubbling – stil no flames of death or smoke.  Each blossom was plopped in the hot oil until she filled one layer of the pan.  After the first side was brown, she used a slotted spoon and flipped them over.  Meanwhile, I put paper towels on a number of trays – yes I got the simple job – I washed the dishes too!

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I should have doubled up the paper towels.

When the second side was brown the blossoms were taken out – again using a slotted spoon and placed on paper towels to drain.  At this point, you can add some salt to them.   Here is the finished product!  They were enveloped in a light pancake and very tasty.

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Instead of an appetizer this turned out to be lunch – we couldn’t stop eating them.

Mine were a little different.  What follows is a batch I made last week from some purloined blossoms.

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Jack and I had wine and blossoms for a late night snack. Ahhhhhhh

I didn’t use yeast – just eggs, flour, salt and pepper.  We had some left over cheese that was drying out so I sliced chunks and stuck a few pieces inside each blossom.  Then I dredged them in the batter and fried them in canola oil.  As they were draining, I did toss some salt on the blossoms . They came out really crispy and light with oozing cheese in the middle.

Happy blossom hunting!

A Typical Day – Video Blog Experiment

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

Yikes, these Apple products are cool.  I had no idea how to make a video blog of myself talking about Pontelandolfo.  Then I remembered, I had a Mac Air Book – or is that a MacBook Air – and I guessed there would be a way that was so easy a kid could do it.  So I called over a 5 year old Italian kid – who couldn’t read the English directions but pointed the screen of the lap top at me and said “Parli”.  So I did.  Let me know what you think of the Video Blog idea.  As an aging theater professional, it is easy to talk and talk and talk….

Procession – Celebrating Corpus Domini

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo
Petals tossed by white robed cherubs.
Petals tossed by white robed cherubs.

I walk down the cobblestone hill through crushed rose petals tossed at me by sweet young girls in flowing white robes – their hair festooned with crowns of flowers.  Birds are singing and the cadence of soles on pavement stirs me.  Instinctively, my inner muse comes to life and I begin to move my arms in the fluid style of Isadora Duncan or Ruth St. Denis. POP – POP POP- ZZZEEEEE –  I hear the pop and feedback of the sound system and then the rhythmic reading of Mons. Giusseppe Rosario Girardi,  the Pontelandolfo parish priest.  Whoops, I remember where I am – processing to celebrate Corpus Domini (Corpus Christi) and I start behaving like the good woman I am.

To celebrate Corpus Domini  the parish of San Salvatore in Pontelandolfo (Arcidiocesi di Benevento) and many parishes across Italy had a mass on June 2nd followed by a procession.     My cousin called and suggested I come to mass and participate in the procession.  I didn’t know what to expect.  The last Pontelandolfo procession I walked in women were barefooted – silly me not understanding enough Italian at the time thought they were barefoot to protect their expensive shoes from the harsh cobblestone streets – not reliving the pain of Christ.  My Italian has improved a lot since then but I still wasn’t sure what I was in for.

The past week I went to mass in this same Baroque style building and the church wasn’t full.  Of course, folks do have multiple masses at three different churches to choose from, so it is difficult to assess the strength of the Catholic Church  The Corpus Domini mass was held in the church in which my grandmother was married.  It was first built before 1500 (Romanesque) and then destroyed totally in an earthquake in 1688 and up and running ten years later.  Paolo Collection (33)Inside, the church is divided into  three naves with incredible paintings – but we’ll save the church/art tour for another post.   I love going to the church and imagining nonna on her wedding day or holding her children at the baptismal font. I can feel the presence of my history in these stone walls and sense the eyes of my family looking at the incredible art.  Yeah, yeah,  I am rambling.

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The alter is amazing!

Back to this particular mass – it was packed.  There was barely standing room.  A group of young girls sat in the front wearing white robes and garlands of white flowers in their hair.  At first I thought the boys I saw enter in white robes were alter boys but there were too many of them.  I found out later  that the children who had their first communion either one or two weeks earlier always get to lead this procession.  The sounds of the service surrounded me.  The choir, accompanied by guitar, overwhelmed the naves and primary space with sweet music.  The priest didn’t have such success with the microphone system which tweaked with feedback and growled irregularly.  However, everyone participated verbally in the mass – this really surprised me.  Even the children maintained a sense of decorum.  I hadn’t a clue as to what was being said but the magic of every voice – without the aid of a missal – responding and singing was chilling.  During those brief periods when I attend church, everyone clutches a book and reads along.   One of the young women told me that even as children they didn’t look at a book to learn responses. Little kids actually listened in church and mimicked their parents to learn the  responses, prayers and creeds.

When the mass was over, I hung back to take a picture of the alter to show you.  The little guys in white were all lined up holding candles and also waiting for the space to clear.  I didn’t know how the procession worked and – well oops – my presence may have gotten them in a bit of trouble over a missed cue. As I quietly went to the front of the church – to the nave on the left and lit a candle for my nonna – I heard of chorus of sweet young voices say “hello, hello”.  I turned and with big smiles and candles waving, six charming elementary students that I had been a guest English teacher too were happily demonstrating their vebal prowess.  A quick rebuke from an elder and they stopped smiling and started down the aisle.  I snapped my picture and also headed for the front of the church.

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Piazza in front of the church – note the girls in white to the right.

I’m guessing there were well over two hundred people waiting to walk in the procession.

Procession started from the front steps of Chiesa Madre del S.S. Salvatore.
Procession started from the front steps of Chiesa Madre del S.S. Salvatore.

Six men carried a golden canopy out of the church and stood poised on the church steps.  Under canopy is a gilded cup holding the host.  The beautiful young girls stood in two parallel lines, holding baskets full of flower petals. Young members of the church held up the portable speakers and microphones.  One young woman  started reading and the priest slowly came down the steps.  The young girls tossed flower petals on the ground.  The priest walked through and the congregation followed.

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This is the alter of San Donato, who along with Sant’ Antonio, is the patron saint of the village. He merits a huge festival in August here and in places around the world – like Montreal and Waterbury CT – where people from Pontelandolfo have gone.

Little alters are permanently placed around the village.

As we all walked up and down the hills of the town, the readings were broadcast through portable speakers and everyone was contemplative.

If you go to You Tube you can see quite a few Corpus Domini processions.  I felt I would be the ugly American if I pulled out a video camera to record the event.  OK, I did sneak a few photos on my phone – —

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Silently we walked up and down the village lanes.
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Two sets of young people carried the portable speakers. One pair was in the front and one in the rear.

Final Push – Elections in Pontelandolfo

by midgeguerrera, posted in Politics - Quirky Aside

THIRTY DAYS!  A scant 30 days to tell the world you are running for office!  How bloody civilized!  In the USA the campaign season never ends.  One election is over and the slow news channels start tossing names to the wind for the next series of elections.  Here, candidates by law have exactly 30 (THIRTY) days to pitch themselves.  Friends of ours who are ex-pats in Ecuador told me the same rule applies there.  Thirty days to tell us about yourself.  if you can’t make a pitch in 30 days you shouldn’t be pitching.The concept was a little unnerving for me – especially on the 2 (TWO) election days.  There was no little job I could do.  No elderly folks to drive to the polls.  No bars to roll drunks out of.  No cemeteries to pull names off of.  Damn, what is a Jersey Girl supposed to do?  Well, what everyone else did.  Go vote!

Standing, waiting, and watching.
Standing, waiting, and watching.

Candidates stood together chatting as a team in front of the polling places  – even Ripley would not believe this – candidates did not approach a single voter!  They didn’t toss a palm card at them or kiss their kids!  But I am getting ahead of myself.  Let’s talk about the last few of those thirty days.

The “list” that we were following did continue it’s door to door press.  “Facsimile” ballots were distributed with an X through the right circle.  Yes, I will admit I carried mine into the polling place with me.  They also reminded people to come to the piazza  on the Friday night before the Sunday election.  You heard me – SUNDAY – the polls were open from 8:00 AM until 10:00 PM.  Monday they were open from 8:00 AM until 3:00 PM.  Friday night was the last legal night to campaign.  Saturday was the day when people were to think about what they heard, reflect and get ready to vote on Sunday.  Now, can I attest that no one campaigned  – nah – and neither would you !  I will tell you that the candidate that I knew best was home with her family on Saturday and insisted there was no campaigning.

Friday night I went to the piazza not knowing what to expect.  A balcony above the square had a sound system, electronic keyboard and podium.  The posters of the first list were up.  It was drizzling and I thought who but the crazy American is going to stand in the rain, stare up at a balcony and listen to a bunch of politicians.  The whole village – that’s who!  Initially only a few cars pulled into the piazza and folks parked with the front windows facing the balcony.

Drive in electioneering!
Drive in electioneering!

An hour later the entire piazza was a drive in movie.  Cars faced the show, windows down to hear the speeches and moms running out to get pizza and drinks to go.  When the rain let up, people got out of their cars.  If they liked what they heard they honked and cheered!  This is a community that is totally involved in the political system.  Enough words – check out the video.

Going for the early and often motif – I voted on Sunday.  Clutching my certificate of eligibility to vote, I went into the school, found my district, handed in my certificate only to have an election worker stare at it, stare at me and demand my “documents”.  I had no freakin’ idea what that meant but luckily had my italian passport on me.  I handed it over, assumed an arrogant posture, and watched as the dude stared at my picture and stared at me.  Finally, with a humpf he said fine.  I signed in, was given a pencil and a paper ballot.  I went to the two foot high cubical, put my X on the circle, wrote in Mancini, folded the ballot and stuffed it in the ballot box!  Yeah, how cool is that, you actually get to stuff  a ballot box.   By the end of  a rainy Sunday about one-third of the eligible voters had voted.   About fifty-one percent  of eligible voters ultimately turned out. Can you imagine!  This was an off cycle election and people actually came out!

Monday, I had to do something.  It is impossible to just sit out an election.  So I wandered down to the polling place to watch the counting of the ballots.  In front of a crowd, each ballot is pulled out, shown to the room, the Sindaco’s name read and the consigliere’s name read.  Those names are marked and the ballot is put aside.  That means that political organizations can keep an accurate tally too.  No hanging chads here – just a big X.  I got bored after a while because doing show and tell with a couple thousands sheets of paper takes a lot longer than reading numbers off the back of a machine.  To see the final results read the numbers in the Pontelandolfo News.  http://www.pontelandolfonews.com/index.php?id=3357

A few days after the election I noticed new political posters going up.  What in the hell is this?  The election was over.  They were giant thank you notes.  Whether a ticket won or lost they thanked the voters.  Now, how nice it that!  Take heed American politicians there are lessons to be learned here.

Even though we lost we are considerate enough to say thank you!
Even though we lost we are considerate enough to say thank you!
Thank you! Thank you!
Thank you! Thank you!

People Vote for People – Politicking Pontelandolfo Style

by midgeguerrera, posted in Politics - Quirky Aside

I can’t really talk about politics without talking about the one guy who understood it best, made sure I understood it and got frustrated as hell when newbies to the process refused to listen.  Good old “Johhny G”, my dad Giovanni Francesco Guerrera, was a politician in the grand style of  former speaker  of the House of Representatives – Tip O’Neill.  “People vote for people.”  “All politics are local!” Those are the clear cut salient facts that my dad foisted upon me at a tender age.  Dad was one of the men who moved Hillsborough Township into the 2oth century.  He was Mayor and on the Township Committee for numerous terms in the 60’s and 70’s.  He was always involved in local, state and national campaigns – sending me to represent him once to a meeting in the Jimmy Carter Whitehouse – but that is another story.  His passion for politics was learned at his daddy’s knee – Pontelandolfo’s Francesco Guerrera.  My nonno, with other Italian immigrants, started Hillsborough’s Democratic Organization!  Whoops – let’s get back to today and personal politics.

Dad's head shot for a State Senate Run.
Dad’s head shot for a State Senate Run.

Yeah, yeah, we all care about issues, platforms, programs etc.  But the reality is, if you are my friend and I ask you to vote for me you will.   Just like we buy candy from our friends kids to support organizations we don’t particularly agree with – for me it is the Boy Scouts.  I hate the politics of the Boy Scouts but love the kids in my extended family who pound on my door in cub scout costumes – I mean uniforms selling candy.  So ethics be damned, I buy the candy.  See – people buy from people.

Daddy always said the way to win an election is like pyramid marketing – you get a core of folks who adore you for whatever reason – and get them to contact and pitch you to the friends who adore them for whatever reason.  People respond to people.

National and domestic issues are important but how does that break down to me, my family and my home town? Now you get it – think local.  Well, politics in Pontelandolfo is about as local centric as you can get.  It is time for me to stop thinking about my larger than life political pappa and tell you about Pontelandolfo.

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X marks the Sindaco circle!

The candidates actually go from house to house and talk to people!  How amazing!  No robo calls here just house calls.  That means you need a strong bladder, because at every house you have a caffè and conversation.  What really amazed me is that people actually told you if they would vote for you or not!  Having lived in Asbury Park, where if everyone who swore they voted for me really had I would have been Queen for a day, I was amazed that folks might actually deign to tell the truth.  “Hey, you’re my pal and I love you but I don’t like the guy at the top of your ticket so – sorry no can do!”  Remember from my earlier post, you vote for the Sindaco (mayor) and then write in one name from his ticket to be your choice for consigliere (council).  Check out the sample ballot – put an X in the circle for the Sindaco and write in one name. ( I did discover later that some folks had indeed told a wee lie to my cousin and really didn’t vote for her – but that was an anomaly.)

Lots of cars in the piazza means lots of folks are gathering in shops and the bars (cafés).
Lots of cars in the piazza means lots of folks are gathering in shops and the bars (cafés).

What people were talking about in the bars and around the piazza were the local problems that the commune has.  Some of these issues are indeed national – like there are no jobs for young people.  Others are very local and personal. This is beautiful village and yet some folks are dumping their garbage and nothing is being done to clean it up.  The elderly often can’t subsist on their incomes and something must be done to provide local support – or to petition the province for help.  The local library was something I witnessed and heard “Rocomincio Da Te” candidates talk about.  It needs books!  It needs to be perked up and better utilized.  Programs for young people are always an issue.  Are sports enough?  Should the commune increase arts based programs?  Each list of candidates distributed their platforms and spoke about issues like these.

Technology is not totally ignored in this very personal approach to campaigning.  Cars are outfitted with speakers and festooned with campaign posters.  A pre-recorded “Vote for XXXXX,” and  “Vote for the (insert name of ticket” could be heard blaring up and down the streets and barely streets of the country side.  At first I was taken aback – whoa is that an obnoxious gelato truck?  Well, there is no obnoxious gelato truck – what a gift that would be – but campaign aides rousing the voters.  The second time I heard it I went out on our balcony to see which ticket it was.  It was the one I was voting for so I waved and cheered.  Does the spirit good to see your team out and about.  Since Pontelandolfo has lots of small family farms and the families really are out working the fields and tending the animals, I could see the benefit of the mobile system.  Where I couldn’t see it was in bigger cities – where the blaring through the busy streets was constant.  If I lived in one I might be forced to wear earplugs or toss pomodori out the window.  Jack and I followed one rolling billboard and blaring sound system for about 20 minutes in a town that shall remain nameless.   Well – here see for yourself.

Collateral – Getting Out the Vote – Pontelandolfo Style!

by midgeguerrera, posted in Politics - Quirky Aside

Collateral (posters, yard signs, fliers and other printed stuff):

Tired of the blitz of campaign signs cluttering the highway?  Starting in August, do you hate going to your mail box stuffed with political name calling, back biting and substance-less tirades?  Then start spending election season in Pontelandolfo – of course it is not in November.  There may be some whispering and cajoling but there is no crush of collateral.  The placement of signage is regulated by the commune.  I first discovered this in Florence when I was teaching an arts administration course.  My students were doing some volunteer work for a theatre company.  The goal was to place small posters in as many shops as possible because large posters placed throughout the city had to be approved by the city, a fee paid per poster and – this is the best part – a city employee hung the posters!

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Equal billing for all!
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Only one poster counts.
VOTE MANCINI

When the political posters went up in Pontelandolfo I was surprised to see them all neatly mounted on stone walls adjacent to each other.  Each ticket was snugly posted next to another.  The posters are large and placed in only a few spots around town.  When I asked if the campaigns had to pay the commune, it was explained that political tickets don’t have to pay the posting tariff but the commune still approves the signs and hangs them.  What is truly amazing is that except for color the signs all look the same!  Ahhh a civil way to post those bills!  We still get to look at the beauty that is Pontelandolfo and not political signs flapping in the breeze.

This is the official sample ballot posted in town.
This is the official sample ballot posted in town.
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Candidate for Consigliere, Giuseppina Mancini.

Let’s talk about campaign literature – how the hell can we possibly call the scurrilous crap that fills American mailboxes “literature”?  Innuendoes coupled with pictures of politicians looking drunk, dead, demented.  Glamour shots merged with tales of perseverance, family and patriotism.  The only piece of campaign material that I saw was the Sindaco and List’s “programma” – their platform!  That is right – shake your head in disbelief  – an actual pamphlet that explained – not just 3 bullet points but explained – each plank.  The “Programma Di Governo” of the ticket called “Ricomincio Da Te”  included economics, jobs, environment, health, culture, education, police – well you get the point.  They actually wrote in complete sentences about issues that really matter – none of this “lower taxes” generic bullshit that I hear in Hillsborough, NJ.  This is my cousin Giusy Mancini’s ticket so we are prejudiced – openly and often.  The platform was explained and the pamphlet  handed out at an evening event in the village’s small theater.  I’ll bet over  200 potential voters turned out to hear the candidates and “brava” their support of the platform.  Note – the people had to come and pick up the collateral – no one was standing in front of the local grocery waving it at them.

The "Ricomincio Da Te" team just before the event.
The “Ricomincio Da Te” team just before the event.

The theater was absolutely packed – to the rafters really – well folks were hanging over the balcony.  When we got there a bunch of men were standing outside looking – well just looking.  It reminded me of the wild political days of the late 60’s when rooms were packed and the energy was high.  People listened, clapped or not, cheered or not and PICKED UP the one piece of literature!

In the spirit of honesty – yes I do have an honest bone or two in my body.  I must admit that in other towns in the area – much bigger cities – I did see not only more signs plastered on poles everywhere, but huge billboards on skinny trucks wending their way up cobblestone streets.

Pontelandolfo and Calcio – Perfect Together!

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

I have to admit, sports and I have never been “Purrrrfect Together”.  In high school I went to football games and walked around flirting with boys – oh was there a game on?  First down – hut – uggh.  When I was a young teacher and recruiting boys to be in my musicals, I discovered that the boys who wrestled moved well and could be taught to dance, hence, I attended wrestling matches.  OK – so for two periods of my life I “went to a game, match, meet.”  Beyond that – niente, nada, nothing.  Then I got to Italy and discovered Calcio Mania in Pontelandolfo.

My introduction to calcio was in  2002.  Italia was in the World Cup!  I pretended I knew what that was – had no clue.  Here is what happened.

Part One:

It was a lazy afternoon in Pontelandolfo.  I was sitting at the kitchen table in our apartment reading when suddenly the piazza became a cacophony of sound.  The air was filled with screams, horns blaring, tears and sobs. Had terrorists bombed the Vatican?  Were the beaches at Anzio breached?  No, my husband calmly informed me.   Italia had tied their last world cup game.  That meant they were holding on to second place in their division.  That couldn’t be it – second place couldn’t cause this chaos.  I raced to the terrace to peer at the piazza.

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Brava!

A parade of almost every motorized vehicle in the village had instantaneously formed in the piazza.  Horns of all pitches and rhythmes – the staccatto beep beep beep of the Ford Pronto –  the  tiny motorini bip bip – and the I must really live in Manhatten keep your hand pressed down on your blaring big horn whaaaaaa.  A wee little boy is leaning out of the passenger window clinging to the pole supporting a full Italian flag as his father/brother roars in a circle around the fountain. Italian flags wave from almost every vehicle.  A motorini whizzed by  –  a girl on the back with both arms raised to support the flag.  It followed behind them like a Jersey shore promotional banner tailing a plane.  One car has not one but four full size flags, bigger than the passengers hanging on to them, flying from each window.    The cars continue to circle and circle. shrieks, screams, tears  –  eeks.  What was it like when the allies landed?  I don’t get the sports thing.  Men in tight shorts touch each others butts and the homophobes think its ok.  Adults visiting a foreign country paint themselves in their country’s team colors and raise angry fists in the air.  Behavior considered pagan any other time becomes ritual allowable drama during high sports celebrations.   The wails and beeps have been going on for 15 minutes now.  When do you think they’ll get bored of and start reading a book or having caffe?

Part two:

I entered my cousins house to find 6 pre-teen girls clutching each other as they stared morosely at the television.  The referees are obviously favoring Korea over Italia – home court advantage and all that.  Tears and angry tirades filled the room.  One girl with tears streaming down her face wailed from the depth of her soul.  The chilling sound had to reach around the world to that evil World Cup referee.  The match was still close.

Rain, like the tears of the young fans slowly glides over an empty field.
Rain, like the tears of the young fans slowly glides over an empty field.

These were the emotions needed to move their team on.  Oh, oh – time – they lost.  I moved as far into the corner as I could because I didn’t know what emotions would erupt.  Heart wrenching sobs erupted from another floor in the house and got closer as the resident 5 year old raced to find the comforting lap of his mother.  His father and cousin were close behind.  With anger plastered on their faces they stormed out of the house and headed out to the rural men only bar.  The girls in the living room frozen in place did not speak.  The wimpers and silent tears said everything.

Part Three:

Now that I have been introduced to the calcio world, I went to a local match on the villages’s impeccable playing field.  Pontelandolfo plays in a five on five league, so the field is shorter.  Makes it easier for the fans to surround the field and see every exciting moment.  The enthusiasm is infectious.  As you’ll see from the video, the upper promenade is packed with fans of all ages.  It feels like the entire village has come together on the field of battle to press it’s warriors on.  How could I not be part of that?  How could I not connect with that passion?  Between Nick Losardo and Jack Huber we have visuals of last weeks game.  It ended in a tie!

Brava Real Five Pontelandolfo!    http://www.realfivepontelandolfo.it/