Food, forever food One of my sons is an archaeologist. His younger brother started out as a naturalist. Both ended up involved with wild boars. My older archaeologist son is also into cooking. Particularly the “archaeological” aspect. Years ago he tried making beer the original Egyptian way, sprouting and roasting hops (using a friend’s potteryContinue reading “The Archaeologist and Food”
Author Archives: Erika Bizzarri
Learning Italian
If one wants to become acquainted with a culture, one really should become involved with the language. And of course, vice versa. There are different ways to do it and I suppose I did all of them. Studying grammar and dictionaries, reading whatever came to hand, speaking with everyone whether a stranger or not, friendships,Continue reading “Learning Italian”
Claudio and The Little Owl
Ten o’clock and all is dark. Returning from a festa at Lugnano in Teverina where there has been a skype connection with Arizona concerning the dig of a Roman villa. The people in the square are still busy eating, perhaps have begun dancing. The medieval church with its portico that once sheltered pilgrims now resoundsContinue reading “Claudio and The Little Owl”
Trees
John Muir loved trees and so do I. Remember reading how he would climb up to the top of a sequoia and sway back and forth with the tree in the wind. He never saw a discontented tree, he said. They grip the ground as though they liked it, and though fast-rooted they travel aboutContinue reading “Trees”
The Box
On Finding a Box (1994?) A dusty brown corrugated cardboard box, stained and faded, the kind your groceries come in. Put on the shelf outside, in the shed behind the house, a miracle it didn’t get rained on – when the boys cleaned out their grandpa’s desk after he died two years ago. Now theContinue reading “The Box”
Clutter
Clutter can often be confused with hoarding. It can be limited to finding a box of objects your father had somehow stowed away. It can be hanging on to your child’s first drawing or confirmation certificate. It can mean keeping photographs. All things one could do without, and which can therefore be labeled clutter. ButContinue reading “Clutter”
Dialogues
There’s an elegantly dressed woman who has a wine shop around the corner from me. Most people simply know her as Svetlana. I have no idea what her last name is and probably wouldn’t know how to pronounce it, for she is originally Serbian. According to Google Svetlana is a common Orthodox Slavic feminine name,Continue reading “Dialogues”
Things Haven’t Changed Much
In 1955 if you were in Italy and wanted to make an international phone call, you had to go to the post office and get on a waiting list. The mails did seem to work a bit better though. A postcard sent to me at my NY address was forwarded to me at American ExpressContinue reading “Things Haven’t Changed Much”
Digits
A poem noted in my journal for 2013. I think it’s mine, particularly since there’s a reference to “Twas the night before Christmas”, but it if isn’t I thank whoever wrote it. (From 2013) One two three Trinity. God Christ the Holy Spirit Spirits Gin and vodka Grappa Grapes hanging on the vine. Five sixContinue reading “Digits”
New York Days — Snippets
Snippet I A day in NYC, when I was young, perhaps 1950 The day was bright and sunny. At least I think it was. It certainly wasn’t raining. Briskly I set off across town with a little trepidation at my boldness doing its best to keep up with me. My destination was somewhere around 28thContinue reading “New York Days — Snippets”
Reflections on a Train
Once upon a time we traveled by train. In compartments seating maybe eight people, four facing another four. Sometimes there would be conversation, even intimate confessions, as if the speaker were talking to her therapist, convinced none of the other would ever see each other again. It was persons interacting with persons. Going even furtherContinue reading “Reflections on a Train”
Portraits
Sometimes a photograph, a chance remark, will spark a post for my weekly blog. Particularly when I think I am running out of subjects to write about. I can also draw from a store of things written over the years, but that may not be fair. Sometimes it may be a chance remark, or somethingContinue reading “Portraits”
Requiem for Gandalf
Nov. 26, 1993 They telephoned to say he was no more. The laughter at the supper table died – no one said a word and then the sounds came haltingly. Last night – Gandalf was his name. The Grey Eminence. Gandalf the Grey Wizard (thanks to Tolkien). Each of us had different thoughts. Yours, myContinue reading “Requiem for Gandalf”
Pirandello
The year 2022. A young woman writes to her great grand aunt that she is opening a book she has been wanting to read for a while. “One, No One, and a Hundred-thousand” by Luigi Pirandello. Unexpected memories of almost 70 years earlier rose to the surface of when, as a graduate of Columbia University, theContinue reading “Pirandello”
Reflections on Water or a Window
Reflections can be dangerous whether in the mind, a shiny surface, a pool of water, or on a pane of glass. Take the cardinal or the swallow deceived into thinking the reflection in a window was a rival leading to an untimely death. A reflection on a shiny surface can blind us to tangible reality.Continue reading “Reflections on Water or a Window”
Every Day at…
One day is like another … or is it? Every day at 8 o’clock in the morning A woman in a black coat, her hat pulled low over her ears, is walking a black and white dog. A young man is sitting outside a small church, smoking a cigarette. He smiles as the dog goesContinue reading “Every Day at…”
Reflections in a Pool of Water
Reflections in a pool of water bring heaven down to earth, Fragments of blue sky hover over cobblestones. Dark walls of a building sink down upside down, annihilating tangible reality. A patchwork quilt of paving stones reflects the luminescent light of day, frames that topsy turvy world where what is real merges with illusion.
Oliver Sacks and My Mother
I’m sure that some of you are acquainted with the following quote from Oliver Sacks, neurologist and man of science, best known perhaps for his book The Man Who Mistook his Wife for a Hat but also for Awakenings, which became a film starring Robert DeNiro and Robin Williams. His words are in a sense a farewell, encouraging usContinue reading “Oliver Sacks and My Mother”
Reflections and Reality
A curving staircase banister sweeps down a silhouette against a daylit window. Curves, straight lines, two dimensions as in a drawing. On either side a reflection moving back into space adds a third dimension. But also moving back in time it adds a fourth dimension. Yesterday, today. A reflection that reveals small shelves with bottlesContinue reading “Reflections and Reality”
Chagall
May 7, 2022 Years ago, I translated poems and aphorisms to accompany the woodcuts of Mariaelisa Leboroni. Now, hunting for a gift for a friend, I come across one with what I can only call a poem by Marc Chagall and am struck by how relevant it is to what is happening today in the UkraineContinue reading “Chagall”
Erika Bizzarri 