Saturday, March 16, 2013
Sunny weather arrives at last, at least for today! With the
valid excuse that I forgot the cable to connect my camera to my computer, I leave
my work behind and hop on my bike at 10 a.m., having waited for the sun to dispel
the cool night air. I am in no hurry, so when I see Ivo and Sergio talking
outside Sergio’s home, I have to stop. It is the first time I have seen Ivo
this year, other than a quick drive by when I had an appointment to meet Elena.
Sergio goes back inside, but Ivo and I have a lively
conversation—well, lively on his part, as Ivo does 90 percent of the talking.
He has a handful of small lumache—snails—which
keep crawling out of his hands and require periodic repositioning as he
describes how he will prepare them for cooking by soaking them in salt water.
These are just the right size for eating, he says, but bigger ones are good for
his ducks.
Ivo Seghieri trims his peach trees from the roof of his shed. |
I realize as we talk what a treasure Ivo is. He is part of a
way of life that will pass out of existence in not too many years. He has been
raised in the old ways of the contadino
and is still very comfortably embracing them. I recall the first time we met;
he had just returned from an excursion into the hillside and had a bag full of
wild mushrooms, which he showed us with pride. Last year he gave me a short
discourse on foraging for nettles and other wild plants. Two years ago he took
us on a tour of his little farmyard, where we saw his chickens and ducks. We
saw how he grows corn and then dries it and strips the kernels off to provide
year-around poultry feed. Every spring we see him preparing the ground for his orto and tending to his vines, which
provide the grapes for his homemade vino.
I sometimes read books written by people who had fond
memories of traveling to Italy during their younger years and, upon returning
when they were older, found it had lost some of its special qualities. In many
ways, the Italy of the early 1900s was similar to the Italy of the 1800s and
even much earlier. Those who were lucky enough to have experienced Italy in the
early 1900s lament how modernization has ruined the country, how Italians now live
fast-paced lives inside their apartments or fenced-in yards of single-family
homes. They hardly know their neighbors. They shop in large supermarkets, drive
to work instead of walk and sit home and watch television at night.
When I read these things, I am tempted to lament as well—that
I was born too late, or at least I came to Italy too late, to see the country
the way it was for so many centuries. And then I think how lucky I am, because
if I had come 20 years later than today, there may be no more people like Ivo,
Sergio, Mario and Dante, at least not in San Salvatore. Ivo is a little younger
than the others, and that means he is still outside every day, actively living
the life of a traditional contadino. The others certainly share Ivo’s knowledge and
experience, but they are no longer so active. It’s true there are more remote
communities where the skills of the previous centuries will still be passed on
and practiced for many more years, but in this more suburban area, people like
Ivo will vanish all too soon.
As an added bonus, Ivo is always outgoing and friendly, and
he speaks clearly enough that I can understand him reasonably well. He seems
quite comfortable carrying the main load of our conversations, and each time I
pass by and see him tending to his farm, I count myself fortunate to know
him.
I'd have to be starving to destroy these works of art. |
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