Padule di Fucecchio is a place of danger--and protection--for humans and animals alike

Part 2 in a series on the Slaughter at the Swamp of Fucecchio

The Padule di Fucecchio is the largest marsh in Italy, consisting of nearly 2,000 hectares (50,000 acres), and it is located in sections of the provinces of Florence, Prato, Pistoia, Lucca and Pisa. The largest part is in the Valdinievole area, but it also includes areas south of the Pistoiese Apennines, between Montalbano and the Cerbai Hills.

An airone cenerino, or brown heron.
photo courtesy www.visittuscany.com

Most of it is now a protected nature preserve, noted for the abundance and variety of flora and fauna that are studied and guarded by governmental research agencies. It is part of an important migratory route for birds, and more than 200 varieties have been documented there. A Ministerial Decree in the European Official Journal in 2013 records that the Padule was declared a ‟wetland of international importance” by the international Ramsar Convention on Wetlands.

photo courtesy www.visittuscany.com

It has also played a crucial and strategic role for rulers throughout the centuries. Since it is so difficult for enemies to traverse, it provides an easily defensible boundary. In fact, it is famous for that fact that General Hannibal Barca lost an eye when he tried to cross the Padule in the Second Punic War.

Tito Livio, in ‟Ab Urbe Condita, Book XXII,” said that Hannibal, in his march towards Arezzo, took the shortest route through swamps where the Arno had spilled over its banks in those days, although he had the opportunity to take a longer but more comfortable route: ‟He ordered first into the swamp the most experienced soldiers, the Spanish, Africans and Gauls. The horsemen came next, and Magone, Numids and some of the Gauls protected the rear.” The Gauls, ‟particularly talented” warriors, checked to make sure that the column kept moving, because otherwise those who were sick or too tired to continue may have been left behind.

This is the artist Henri Paul Motte's idea of what it might have
looked like when Hannibal and his elephants crossed the
Rhone. More likely, historians say, the elephants swam across.
But making their way through the Padule would have
been more difficult.

‟Those going first carried the army’s insignia through the deep streams of the river, almost swallowed and submerged by the mud,” Livio continued. ‟The Gauls slipped and could not rise from the whirlpools and eddies. Others, stunned by fatigue, died among the mules lying here and there. (They) endured for four days and three nights, being everywhere covered by the waters and being unable to find any dry place where to lay their tired bodies. They piled up their luggage and even their dead mules so they could lie on them and keep out of the water, or they moved on in search of anything that emerged from the swamp so they could rest. Hannibal, already suffering from the sudden and continual changes in temperature, advanced on the only surviving elephant to keep himself taller than the water, lost his eye.”

Just how he lost the eye is not clear. Some believe he lost it as a result of contracting conjunctivitis or malaria. The author Petrarch wrote of the ‟great Carthaginian” that ‟one eye had left in my country, stagnating in the cold time of the Tosco river.” Various popular stories portrayed orally in the area report that it was lost because of an attack carried out by a band of inhabitants of the area, who used a long barrel to carve it out. That story is also reported by Curzio Malaparte in his ‟Maledetti Toscani.”

In passing through the Padule, Hannibal lost almost all of the few elephants that remained after he had crossed the Alps. Polybius described the death of one of Hannibal’s favorites: ‟He died there, bringing to the men a fall, but one advantage: sitting on him and their packed luggage, they remained above the water, so they slept for a small part of the night.”

The Padule di Fucecchio in more recent times. Many canals have been made to improve the water flow and reclaim land.
photo courtesy www.visittuscany.com

In later times, the Padule was used as a hunting and fishing resort for the wealthy Medici family of Florence, who maintained a castle nearby. The Florentines even dammed up some of outlets to raise the water level and improve the fishing. The dams were subsequently removed, but the Padule remained a marshy and malarial area visited mostly by hunters and fishermen—and it also gained a reputation as an excellent haven for bandits and fugitives from the law.

All of this may cause one to wonder: What interest did the Germans have in going into the Padule at all? The answer is actually quite easy to deduce. It would be the perfect hiding place for partisans, and in fact they did use it for just that. For the most part, the Germans kept clear of the Padule, fearing surprise attacks.

Photo from archives of Ponte Buggianese.

Realizing this, the peasants living in the surrounding communities used it to avoid harassment from the soldiers. Many of them knew the area well and could find dry areas to graze their animals, store their goods, hunt for wildlife or even plant crops, away from observation by the soldiers. Some still maintained homes in the villages and built shelters in the Padule to store their food and equipment. Others built crude shacks and moved their entire families to the swamplands for safety.

Frustrated and fearful by surprise attacks such as those orchestrated by Silvano Fedi in Pistoia the previous year, the Germans were anxious to strike at the partisans before suffering further losses and causalities. In October of 1943, Fedi and five other partisans attacked a Fascist armory near Pistoia, making off with large quantities of arms, ammunition and other supplies. Another time he attacked the Ville Sbertoli prison, freeing 54 prisoners, most of whom had been incarcerated for political reasons.

Notice the lack of roads in the center. That is the heart of the Padule di Fucecchio, although much of the area around it is swampy as well. Many canals and raised roadbeds have been made over the centuries to make it easier to travel through it, but much of it can still only be visited by boat.

The Germans had received faulty intelligence reports that as many as 300 partisans were using the Padule to hide out and store their arms. General Peter Eduard Crasemann had earlier been part of a patrol attacked by partisans at the Passo di Porretta, and he was under pressure to create a safe zone for the fighting retreat of troops to the south. Crasemann issued orders on August 22, 1944, to destroy the partisan camp at all costs, and the officers and soldiers under him interpreted this as carte blanche approval to annihilate anyone who came between them and the partisans. The slaughter was to commence at dawn the next day.

Continue to part 3
Go back to part 1

Two free necci, wine, a fox and a new moon at a chestnut sagra in Vellano

I wouldn’t recommend arriving late to a sagra on its final day and on the only day it has really rained all month. Yet somehow it worked out well for us. After church today, we drove to Cerreto Guidi to see a museum that Google lists as open from 4-7 p.m. on Sunday. It was not open, with very different hours posted on its door, and so we decided to go instead to the Sagra Delle Frugiate in Vellano, near Pescia. We didn’t know what Frugiate were, and Google failed us on that one as well. No translation was listed, but we could see from the poster that it was something made with chestnuts.

A large geode at a mining
museum in Vellano.

The poster said the distribution of frugiate began at 2 p.m., and we arrived a little after 5:30 p.m. It started raining as soon as we left the car, so we went first to the museum of miners and quarrymen, if for no other reason than to get out of the rain but also because it was free on the day of the sagra. We saw an interesting display of mining tools and minerals, and when we went to leave, the rain stopped. The museum curator told us that there were two piazzas selling chestnut snacks, but he warned that they might be closing early because of the weather.

We hiked up the hill to the necci stand, but the group of about 15 people who had been running the concession said they had just closed. Now they were in a community hall listening to music, chatting and drinking wine. Sensing we were disappointed, one of the men checked with a lady named Giorgia, who said there was one neccio left and we were welcome to it. The man invited us inside and we were served not only the neccio but also given two plastic cups of wine. A neccio (the plural is necci) is kind of like a pancake made with chestnut flour and spread with either ricotta or nutella and then rolled up like a crêpe. Since the stand has closed and the volunteers were all just socializing at the end of the day, we weren’t changed anything. Of course, we offered our hearty thanks, telling everyone they were molto gentile, very kind.

When we found our way to the other piazza, it was still open, but just barely. We bought two sugar-coated bambole, which were a lot like doughnuts, and then we looked at the other offerings and asked to buy a castagnaccio, something we had never had before. Sold out. So was the frugiate. All they had left was the necci. We declined, since we had already had one. We did ask what frugiate were, and the lady explained that they were basically roasted chestnuts. We walked over to finish our bambole and look at the huge kettle that had been used for roasting the chestnuts. It still had a small fire going under it, but no more chestnuts.

Then the lady who had explained what frugiate meant walked up to us with a warm neccio filled with ricotta. It was closing time, and she wanted us to have the last one. We sat down and shared another neccio and drank the last of our wine. It was getting dark, but the sky had cleared up and the evening was mild.

As we drove home, we still had two more special moments. Driving on a rough and curvy detour, we saw a fox, peeking out at us from some brush. Moments later, we saw the new moon hanging just over a little hilltop town that I think is Medicina. We stopped the car and Lucy took a timed exposure that came out well, though naturally seeing it in person was even better. All in all, it was a great day, even if we missed seeing the museum. It actually would have been good enough even if we had arrived too late for the sagra, because just driving on the back roads of Tuscany is still a treat for us.

Simmering tensions, violence preceded the Eccidio in the Fucecchio Padule

Part 1 in a series on the Slaughter at the Swamp of Fucecchio

Agostino Spadoni

Mid-summer in Ponte Buggianese, Italy, can be boiling hot, too hot to work outside, if one has any choice in the matter. But peasant farmer Agostino Spadoni and his wife Isola Fanucci were accustomed to the heat, and they went to work on their field as they did most every day. But July 6, 1944, was not like any other day for Agostino. It would be his last.

Mussolini and Hitler

The times were extraordinary for Italians everywhere. Benito Mussolini had waited as long as he could before embroiling his country in a war. He had watched carefully to see which side would win, and when Germany quickly overran France in the spring of 1940, Mussolini jumped aboard the German war machine in June, certain that he would emerge a co-victor and sit down with Adolf Hitler to divide the spoils. Mussolini chose badly, though, initiating five years of horrendous suffering for Italian soldiers and civilians alike.

Ponte Buggianese prior to World War 2

When Italy threw Mussolini out of office three years into its war effort and changed sides, the suffering didn’t end. In fact, it became worse, because the Germans were by then so entrenched in Italy that they were already effectively calling the shots, so to speak. In 1944, the 26th German Armored Division and other branches of the German military occupied the Valdinievole—a valley which included Ponte Buggianese, Montecatini, Pescia, Chiesina Uzzanese, Monsummano and many other smaller villages—because of its strategic position just three miles from the Arno River. The German army had formed the ‟Gothic Line” there to make what would be its last stand in an failed effort to stop the northward march of Allied Armies. By July, even the Germans realized that the line probably wouldn’t hold, but they tried to keep it secure to protect their fighting forces that were retreating from further south.

A group of Italian Fascists on the old bridge in Ponte Buggianese.

Resentment and tensions boiled between civilians and soldiers. Germans occupied Italian homes, compelling housewives to cook for them and men to work for them, or at least provide them with a few bottles of wine. In more extreme cases, soldiers would come into a home and arrest people on false charges and then extort them for money or jewelry in exchange for their release. Civilians had little choice but to comply, hoping that by their silence they would be left alone, and this proved true most of the time. But not always.

Among the civilians were groups of partigiani—partisans—paramilitary men who met in secret to plot disruption and violence. The partisans in Ponte Buggianese called themselves the ‟Silvano Fedi.” Fedi had been a law student in nearby Pistoia who was arrested in 1939 and held in seclusion for a year for spreading ‟anti-national propaganda.” An ardent anti-Fascist, Fedi returned to his home town after his imprisonment and continued to speak out. When Italy changed sides, Fedi lead a group of partisans that hid out in the countryside around Pistoia. He was killed by German soldiers in an ambush July 29, 1944, and the partisans in Ponte Buggianese named their group after him to honor his courage and conviction.

Silvano Fedi

The Silvano Fedi partisans numbered about 30 and were headed by a friend of Fedi, professor Aristide Benedetti. Other smaller and less organized groups existed as well, and some men from one of these groups took action one day in the Fattoria district of Ponte Buggianese, action that would lead to a reaction and the death of Agostino Spadoni and nearly 200 others like him during what became known as L’Eccidio del Padule di Fucecchio, the Slaughter at the Swamp of Fucecchio.

One of the officers in the Silvano Fedi was Pietro Bassano, a brigadier of the Ponte Buggianese carabinieri. Bassano observed four youths belonging to another group of patriots open fire on two German soldiers that were passing on a motorcycle and side car, wounding them. The soldiers fled and reported the incident to the general quarters of Ponte Buggianese. German officers ordered what the Italians called a rappresaglia, a reprisal.

Italian civilians living in the home of Ada Dal Pino heard about the reprisal first hand, because her home was being occupied by German Lieutenant Josef Brettnacher, Sergeant Major Martin Petschell and other minor officers. Petschell, who already had a reputation in the village as a bully, was heard to say: ‟For every German soldier that is killed, 10 civilians will die as a result.” Eyewitnesses recounted that Brettnacher and Petschell left with a patrol of soldiers and returned around 7 p.m. with some stolen bottles of wine. Petschell said that he had killed some civilians and added that if he heard of more attacks on German soldiers, the entire village would be burned.

Stories of the patrol’s activities that day emerged after the war from depositions given by residents to British officers. The Germans went to the neighborhood where the soldiers had been wounded and started firing their weapons in all directions. Then they went to the house of Maria Pinochi and killed Celestino Pinochi, age 77, and started the house on fire by throwing an incendiary bomb. Maria, who was working in the fields, heard the shooting and came running home, finding the body of her father-in-law lying in front of the door, with two bullet holes in his back.

Neighbor Bruna Quiriconi recounted that she was in her home with her husband, Marino, 35, when soldiers arrested him, sacked the house and lit it on fire before releasing Marino and leaving. After a few minutes, the soldiers returned and arrested Marino a second time. Friends tried to gather around and protect him, but they were beaten off by the soldiers and threatened with death. Marino then tried to run, but he had only taken a few steps when Petschell raised his rifle and killed the fleeing man. 

Agostino Spadoni, 73, heard the noise of shooting and went to see what was happening. When he didn't return, Isola went to look for him. She found him in a field about 50 meters away. He had been shot in the head.

Two other civilians were killed in similar fashion that day, and another was killed 11 days later. Another five were killed in nearby Pescia nine days after that. But the worst was yet to come.

Continue to part 2 in the series

A local tale of death and tragedy in the swamps near Ponte Buggianese

Between September of 1943 and April of 1945, when Nazi Germany occupied Italy, some 15,000 Italian citizens were killed. This figure comes from Dr. Gianluca Fulvetti, a historian who has published two books on wartime atrocities in Italy.

Lucy and I came across this monument in Anchione, a suburb
of Ponte Buggianese, while driving to the outdoor market.

‟This wasn't only a war fought between armies,” Fulvetti wrote. ‟It was a war on civilians who unwittingly got involved and paid with their lives.”

In March of 1944, partisans in Rome attacked a column of SS police officers, killing 33 Germans. On orders from German high command, 335 men and boys were rounded up and executed at the Ardeatine Caves, near Rome. The reprisal killings set the stage for how Germany would conduct the remainder of the war in Italy.

Tuscany was one of the hardest-hit regions, as German troops retreated north following the liberation of Rome. Fulvetti estimates 3,650 people died there, the majority in the summer of 1944.

‟Troops were ordered to retaliate against civilians as punishment for partisan actions,” Fulvetti said. Any form of resistance by civilians was cause for punishment, even simply refusing to shelter or feed German troops.

The largest of the mass killings took place in Marzabotto, a village south of Bologna and about 100 miles north of where Lucy and I live in Montecarlo, Tuscany. Estimates of the dead there range from 770 to as many as 1,830. An award-winning Italian movie, L’uomo Che Verrà (2009), tells the story of a priest who lost his life while saving many local people by hiding them away.

Another well known massacre took place in Sant’Anna di Stazzema, a hill village about 40 miles west of us in Tuscany. On August 12, 1944, the Waffen-SS, with the help of the Italian Brigate Nere, murdered about 560 local villagers and refugees, including 130 children, and burned their bodies. This event has also been featured in a movie, Spike Lee’s The Miracle at Santa Anna, which is based on a book with the same title. The movie tells the story of four black American soldiers who get trapped in the village. I’ve not seen it, but it reportedly takes many liberties with the facts and has received mostly poor reviews.

Since my grandparents have deep roots in the Valdinievole region of Tuscany, where Lucy and I live for three or four months a year, I decided to research our own local massacre, L’Eccidio del Padule di Fucecchio—The Slaughter at the Fucecchio Swamp, where at least 174 civilians were killed. Italian author and historian Mauro Guerrini has written that the massacre ‟is one of the worst perpetrated by German soldiers in Italy and has remained for years unknown to the general public, for the territorial ‘marginality’ of the Padule and, above all, for political reasons tied to the cold war.”

Continue to part 1 in the series

Celebrating the Madonna di Fátima and some heavenly chocolate

Two important but very different events are taking place this weekend in Montecarlo. The first started Friday night with the arrival of the famous traveling statue of La Madonna di Fátima, or Our Lady of Fátima, in Piazza Garibaldi. The statue was escorted by the parish priest, Don Mario Avella, along with the Filarmonica Puccini di Montecarlo and a large group of city officials and residents, from the piazza to the church. It will be at the center of several church and community events this weekend.

The Montecarlo Filarmonica plays for the Madonna and the crowd.

At the same time, Montecarlo is hosting its 15^th annual Festa del Cioccolato, with booths set up along via Roma to display multiple varieties of fine chocolate. It’s great to see that officials here are taking so much care to look after our spiritual, physical and emotional well being!

Deanna and Kori admire the chocolate.

Meanwhile, Lucy and I enjoyed the companionship of some fellow members of the Sons of Italy from Tacoma who are staying in the Albergo Natucci in nearby Montecatini Terme. We consumed a sumptuous pranzo at the Osteria alla Fortezza, right in the midst of the activities. We were in view of the imposing Fortezza di Montecarlo to the north and the chocolate festa to the south while we dined with Gina Natucci and her sister Kori and cousin Deanna, as well as Diana Folino Stewart and her granddaughter Hailey and Deanna’s husband Travis.

After lunch, we strolled through the displays of chocolate and enjoyed some free assaggini, little tastes. Which, of course, led to some purchases and bigger tastes, but not many, because we were still full from the long and delicious lunch. After our guests left, Lucy and I wandered into the park, where we found that for 5 euros, we could get a plate of five pieces of chocolate accompanied by two glasses of wine.

The statue of the Madonna is known as the International Pilgrim of Fátima because it travels around the world to Catholic audiences. It is the Madonna’s second visit to Montecarlo. She also came 50 years ago, and she is scheduled to return in another 50 years. She has special significance to Catholics because her appearance in Fátima, Portugal, to three shepherd children in 1917 was declared by the church a miracle worthy of belief in 1930—incidentally on Oct. 13, the same day the statue arrived in Montecarlo.

Chiesa di San Andrea, Montecarlo.

The statue has been placed in a prominent place in the Chiesa di San Andrea and a number of activities have been planned, including special masses, meetings of prayer, meditation and instruction, and another procession. Earlier this week, a lady from the church visited all the homes in town and gave us rectangular sheets of light blue cloth to hang in our windows to make the town more festive and to ‟help us prepare psychologically” for the event.

Lúcia Santos, Jacinta and Francisco Marto

The three children who witnessed the apparition of Mary were nine-year-old Lúcia Santos and her cousins Jacinta and Francisco Marto. They were herding sheep at the Cova da Iria near their home village of Aljustrel in the parish of Fátima. They said they were visited three times by an apparition of an angel. In the spring and summer of 1916, they said the angel, who identified himself as the ‟Angel of Peace” and ‟Angel of Portugal,” taught them prayers, to make sacrifices and to spend time in adoration of the Lord. Beginning in May of 1917, they witnessed apparitions of the Virgin Mary and described her as ‟the Lady more brilliant than the sun, shedding rays of light clearer and stronger than a crystal goblet filled with the most sparkling water and pierced by the burning rays of the sun.” The woman wore a white mantle edged with gold and held a rosary in her hand.

Blue sheets on a foggy morning to welcome
the Madonna

Lúcia, who became a nun and lived to age 97, said that the angel taught them to bow with their heads to the ground and to say, ‟My God, I believe, I adore, I hope and I love you. I ask pardon for those who do not believe, do not adore, do not hope and do not love you.” Lúcia later set this prayer to music and a recording exists of her singing it.

We’re looking forward to seeing and maybe participating in that most Italian of events Sunday night, a procession through all the streets of Montecarlo with the statue. It will pass by our house at 49 via Roma, so if we’re too tuckered out by then to participate, at least we’ll have good view.

Italians good at following rules when they are discreto, valido . . . and attainable

I just read that Italians are the best in Europe when it comes to recycling waste, which was a surprise to me. I still see a lot of litter along country roads and the occasional discarded mattress. But that just might mean that there aren’t people who patrol to pick up litter. Italy is also home to the infamous ‘triangle of death,’ an area around Naples where the Mafia has reportedly dumped 10 million tons of toxic and household waste over the past two decades.

Lucy with blue bags for multi-
materiale and the white box ready
to take our carta down to the street.

But the numbers come from a valid source: Eurostat. It is the official statistical office of the European Union, located in Luxembourg, and its purpose is ‟to provide high quality statistics for Europe . . . to enable comparisons between countries and regions.” And Eurostat says Italy is far and away the best, recycling 76.9% of its industrial, urban and other waste. This compares to a European Union average of 37%. By comparison, France is 54%, the UK 44% and Germany 43%.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be so surprised, though. It took us months to figure out the complicated system of disposing of waste here in Montecarlo (see I feel weirdly happy . . .). I’m glad to know that the time I take to separate my garbage into multiple categories is helping Italy and its international reputation.

It reminds me of an important lesson I learned about Italians from Tim Parks, the author of several books about living in Italy. Parks, British born, lives in Verona, and his early experiences in Italy are instructive when it comes to adapting to the Italian mentality.

In Italian Neighbors, Parks tells about a friend named Giampaolo, who enjoyed discussing politics and ultimately used the words discreto, valido and relativo to describe almost every Italian law and regulation. Discreto is similar but not exactly the same as discreet in English. Discreto means ‟to comport oneself in a mode appropriate to the situation, not lacking in regard.” Giampaolo tells Parks the new law on drunk driving ‟has been drawn up discretamente (i.e. with intelligence, if not flair) and is in fact for the most part valido (sound, functional), but all of this is relativo (of only secondary importance), since the instruments for enforcing the law are not available, or if they are nobody has any intention of using them.”

Giampaolo could apply those words to almost any area of life. Parks writes: ‟The Italian system of autostrade . . . is definitely discreto, road surfaces and markings are always valido, but all of this tend to be relativo, since with the exorbitant price of gasoline and the very high tolls, one would need to be rich indeed before one could use the roads with regularity.”

Parks continues: ‟And so, if you encourage him, he will go on all evening: the constitution, the electoral system, the TV networks: discreto, valido, relativo. It is a curious and, I believe, curiously Italian stalemate, in which ineradicable Italian pride (and why not?) exists side by side with a sense of cynicism (equally justifiable) and, at the end of the day, resignation. The judicial system has been ‘conceived discretamente bene,’ and the constitution in this regard is undoubtedly valido, in that it establishes the total independence of the judiciary. But whatever the institutional makeup, it is inevitably only relativo given the endemic corruption that always allows the mafiosi to get of scott-free.”

This explains why Italians often double park or even stop in the middle of the street and run into a store to conduct their business. If there is no other way, even the police will understand and won’t write a ticket, and the people who are blocked in by the double-parker realize that on another day, they may need to be the ones blocking someone else for a few minutes.

However, in the case of recycling, the system is discreto and valido without being relativo—because the little trucks come by daily to pick up the designated waste. It turns out that in fact, Italians are actually very good at following rules, if there is a valid system of regulation in place. They’ve spent centuries living in close quarters with their families and neighbors, and they’ve learned to be patient with each other and their country’s slow bureaucratic system.

For some examples, Italian cars have more strict pollution control regulations that do vehicles in the United States. Some large cities are banning motor vehicles on certain days of the week to improve air quality. Limited traffic zones (streets open only to those with ZTL permits) are common all over Italy. All of these rules seem to be followed with little complaining on the part of citizens—because they are discreto, valido and, more or less, enforced evenly.

Automatic cameras catch speeders or people driving without ZTL permits. Tickets are sent by mail, and there is no policeman to argue with or try to bribe (this may not be the best argument about Italians following rules, though, since the locals all know where the speed cameras are and still drive like maniacs between them).

Of course, there still is much waste in Italy, not of the type put in bins but in governmental excesses. That may be why Italy still retains a general reputation for corruption and dishonesty. However, as one can see by the success of Italian recycling programs, a majority of Italians prefer to be discreto when following laws that are valido—as long as it is easily attainable and everyone else is doing it too.

A roof with a view . . .

Lucy and I watched the sunrise this morning for the first time ever FROM THE ATTIC in our Montecarlo home. Yes, our leaky roof has been repaired and two skylights were installed on the east side, so now we can get a view of the hills above Montecatini Alto, Pescia and Buggiano for the first time from our house. We bought three stools from a second-hand store, the Mercato Usato near Pescia, and now we can open the skylights, sit on the stools and watch the glow of the rising sun in the morning or the city lights blinking on in the evening.

Sunrise seen from Montecarlo.

The attic is also much brighter and more inviting, especially since it’s no longer cluttered with some 30 buckets and pans formerly needed to catch intruding drops of rain. We’re also pleased with other work that we authorized our neighbor, Juri, to contract on our behalf. We have two new persiani doors on our terrazza, each overhung by a little awning. These were needed to keep the water out as well, because during a hard rain combined with a driving windstorm, the rain would beat against the side of the house and enter under the doors of the kitchen and bedroom. We’re on top of a hill with a western exposure, and that’s the side where the storms roll in.

Lucy enjoying the view from one of our new skylights.

We also had improvements added downstairs, in our large closet just inside the entry door. Juri disposed of some musty old cabinets for us, and we had the walls cleaned and painted and tiles installed on the floor. In addition, we shared costs with Juri and Silvia to repair and paint the crumbling walls of the entry hallways and replace the old floor tiles.

We are thankful to have a savvy neighbor who oversaw all these projects, and Juri is probably thankful to have someone to share the costs of improving the house. Our apartment had been empty for several years, and before that, it was occupied by Silvia’s grandmother, who probably didn’t have the resources or interest for such things as painting the outside or improving the hallways.

I do have some trouble fully enjoying our view from the skylights, however. That’s because there were supposed to be four of them instead of three, they weren’t all installed in the correct locations, and they are not the sizes and models that we wanted. We don’t understand fully how this happened, and we haven’t asked Juri to explain it yet. We are waiting for a chance to speak with him with an interpreter present, because we don’t want there to be further misunderstandings, and we don’t want him to think we are ungrateful for all his supervisory work.

But the fact is, I gave Juri a detailed drawing before I left last spring, showing the location and size of each of the four skylights. It also included model numbers. We had agreed that we would pay for the three east-facing skylights and share the cost for the western one, since one was needed by code to access the roof. Apparently, Juri thought these were just suggestions and didn’t share the drawing with the contractor.

That large beam at the top is the center of the attic.
Just below that is where two skylights should have
been. Instead, there is one, installed much lower.

The two skylights on the east side were installed much lower on the roof than we requested. We had hoped to have them near the peak, so that we could lift them open and gain more standing room. As it is now, we can only stand up straight right next to the center beam. It’s true that we can stand up inside the new skylights, but we have to hunker down and practically double over to reach them. Also, if they were in higher locations on the roof, we could stand on platforms and get an even better view over the tops of the houses on the west side.

The skylight facing west is right next to the center beam--just what we
wanted for the ones facing east. Oh, well. Life goes on. And it's a good life.

We could just contact the builder and say we’ll pay to put in two more skylights in the right places—but we’re on a limited budget, and making all these improvements has already stretched our capabilities. We had previously decided that the next project would be to install a decent staircase to the attic. Now we have a creaky set of metal stairs that we pull down from the attic using a long hooked rod. When the stairs are down, it blocks the hallway to the bathroom, so we can’t keep them down. They also come up under a low roof timber, so one has to go on all fours for a couple of feet after reaching the attic.

Our retractable staircase, which blocks
the hallway.

We’ve decided to stick with the plan and live with the existing skylights. If we get a good stairway installed next year, it will be easier to add another skylight or two and also make other improvements in the attic. All of this is complicated by the fact that I really want to sell our road maintenance business and retire fully. Living only on Social Security and my pension from teaching will limit our income. Is being able to stand up in the attic and having a better view really worth another summer of hard labor?

Sunset on the same day, taken from our terrazza. These are the hills between Lucca and Pisa.

We’ll have until next summer to ponder. For now, we’re going to enjoy this month in Montecarlo and be thankful for what we have. We know that our lives have been blessed. My ancestors who grew up scratching the soil here to eke out a living would probably be ashamed of me if I grew preoccupied over something so trivial. But I hope my grandparents would also be pleased and proud to know that because of the sacrifices they made 100 years ago, one of their own is able to enjoy and appreciate the stunning beauty of Tuscany and this amazing house.

Order up a bowl of that delicious Spadoni ice cream!

This Spadoni--err, spumoni--ice cream from the Buon Gusto
Restaurant in South San Francisco looks way better than
the normal fare.

Finally our family has received the recognition it deserves for inventing one of the best types of ice cream ever. The young man who waited on our family recently at Spiro’s Restaurant in Gig Harbor, when asking if we wanted dessert, told us he could serve us Spadoni ice cream. We all broke out laughing at the poor guy, who probably wondered what was so hilarious.

I told him that we were all named Spadoni, and that our ancestors invented this ice cream, but the packaging people accidentally misspelled the name and called it Spumoni. I congratulated him and told him he was the first one to ever get the name right!

Of course that’s hogwash, but it’s what I’ve been telling friends for years to get a smile. And besides, most people with the surname Spadoni have probably been called Spumoni at some time by wise-cracking friends—so it’s only fair that we should claim some credit. In defense of the waiter, it was his first day on the job, and he had gone to school in the Harbor with Amanda Spadoni, one of our cousins, so he was more familiar with the name Spadoni than Spumoni.

Anyway, about spumoni ice cream, typically, it is of three flavors, sometimes with a fruit/nut layer between them. The ice cream layers are also occasionally mixed with whipped cream. Cherry, pistachio and either chocolate or vanilla are the typical flavors of the ice cream layers. The fruit/nut layer often contains cherry bits—causing the traditional red/pink, green and brown color combination. It has become more of an Italian-American thing than Italian. In fact, I’ve never actually seen it in my Italian travels, but I’ve read that it exists in Southern Italy and is rarely found north of Napoli. Speaking of Napoli, Neapolitan ice cream, with three flavors, is said to be a descendant of spumoni.

The website WiseGeek says: ‟Spumoni is a special Italian dessert made of layers of ice cream, whipped cream, candied fruit, and nuts. In Italy, it’s spelled spumone, but pronounced exactly as it is pronounced in English, with an accent on the last vowel. Each layer of the dessert contains different flavors and ingredients.”

The name is derived from spuma, which means foam. Spumoni is popular in places with large Italian immigrant populations such as the United States, Canada and Argentina. The Spaghetti Factory serves it free with its dinners, which has done a lot to make it well known. August 21 is National Spumoni Day in the United States. November 13 is National Spumoni Day in Canada. I’m still not sure when they are going to name a National Spadoni Day, but it is long overdue!

Dad knows everything . . . or nothing

My uncle Rudy liked to quote some folk wisdom—today’s Internet users would call it a meme—that he had heard repeated about how people view their fathers at various ages. One day he told it to my cousin Annette, and she not only wrote it down but had it set into calligraphy and framed.

My uncles Rudy and Claude at Mount Rainier.

She didn’t know where Rudy first heard it. Maybe his dad—our grandfather—told him, though it is also very likely he heard it later in life. The message is ageless; it probably could have been coined by any of Adam and Eve’s children. Mark Twain said something much like it, though he personalized it and made it more concise. He could have heard the concept in Italy, as he traveled there four times in four different decades. Twain worded it thusly: “When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.”

Annette's framed version

The meme as Annette captured it from Rudy reads like this, with my translations added:

Cosa Pensano i Figli (What the sons and daughters think)

A 3 anni: Papá sa tutto (at age 3: Dad knows everything)

A 8 anni: Papá sa quasi tutto (Dad knows almost everything)

A 12 anni: Ci sono molte cose che Papá non sa (There are many things that Dad doesn’t know)

A 15 anni: Papá non sa niente (Dad doesn’t know anything)

A 20 anni: Domanderó consiglio a Papá (I’ll ask Dad’s advice)

A 40 anni: Se avvesí ancora Papá (If only Dad were still here)

Now I find that this Italian folk wisdom is being painted onto ceramics, printed on scrolls and made into placques for sale in tourist shops. It is rarely written the same way, as people adapt it to their own levels of maturity and cognition through their childhood, adolescence and then adulthood. Twain realized his dad’s wisdom at age 21; some people take longer.

A version found in a tourist shop

In some versions, the 15-year-old still hasn’t realized that Dad doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t come to that realization until age 20, and then at age 30 he is only able to acknowledge that ‟Mio padre qualche volta ha ragione” (sometimes my dad is right). And then at 40, he says, ‟Ahh, se avvesí dato retta a mio padre” (if only I had listened to my dad).

I have to say, my own dad was exceptionally wise, so my own age of ignorance about him was short—though that didn’t stop me from doing stupid stuff as a teenager, things that I knew dad wouldn’t approve of. I never actually thought he was off base, but I wanted to do the stupid things anyway, so I just chose to ignore his wisdom. That’s a typical adolescent trait, and I think that deep inside, most adolescents who rage in frustration that their parents don’t know anything are aware that Dad and Mom have been around the block a few times.

Sign seen in Frank Capra movie "It's a Wonderful Life."

Having raised four children of my own through their teen years, I’ve seen enough rolled eyes and exasperated expressions to be well able to relate to this cleverly worded folk wisdom. In the Italy of my grandparents, the father had nearly absolute authority, so it is somewhat ironic that this meme should have originated there. The Italian Dad was in charge, but it doesn’t mean his wisdom wasn’t called into question. And I wouldn’t be surprised to see many different expressions of this phenomenon expressed in many different languages, perhaps even starting in whatever language the children of Adam and Eve spoke.

My book, An American Family in Italy, will launch in less than one month

A long journey is about to end, and an exciting new one to begin. My first memoir about our explorations in Italy will be launched July 13, which is also Lucy and my wedding anniversary. It seemed like an easy date to remember!

It will be available as both an ebook and a print book on Amazon. I had hoped that by now my asphalt maintenance business would have been sold so I’d have more time to promote the book. I’ve had some conversations with prospective business buyers, but no sale yet. I thought about delaying the book launch, but it’s nearly complete and I’m getting impatient.

I could really use help from my friends and readers, though. I need about 30 people to join my book launch team. You won’t need to attend any meetings, and you’ll have a chance to get a nice discount on the book, plus get a second book completely free—all for just a few minutes of help.

You can contact me or sign up to help on this page, which also has more information about the book: http://ourlifeintuscany.com/book-info.html