But a Mounds bar. Coconut and dark chocolate. A Mounds bar from the vending machine along the side of the station sidewalk while I wait for the train to come swooshing in. The year 1952. A subway station in New York. I have always liked coconut but it has to be paired with dark chocolate.Continue reading “Not a Madeleine”
Author Archives: Erika Bizzarri
Three Beginnings
What shall I write today? It is already Tuesday. Perhaps about Judi Dench and Shakespeare since I’m reading Judi Dench the Man Who Pays the Rent. Each night four or five pages of bedtime reading, no more. Of marveling how Judi analyses each of the characters she then brings to life on the stage. How she inhabits,Continue reading “Three Beginnings”
Day After Day
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF AN ALMOST 97 YEAR OLD LADY WHO HAD THE MISFORTUNE TO FALL AND BREAK HER LEG A YEAR AGO Hard to realize I’m no longer independent. Hard to realize my lovely dog has crossed the rainbow bridge. Now who invented that idea? I find there is a real rainbowContinue reading “Day After Day”
Immigrants
Once upon a time Beginning in 1892, Ellis Island in the port of New York began receiving immigrants, replacing the Castle Garden station. Steamships unloaded their third-class passengers where they were processed before being allowed into what to them was the gateway to a land of opportunity. Immigrants flocked from Ireland, fleeing famine, from Italy,Continue reading “Immigrants”
La Magna Via
Some books I read and then read again, leafing at chance through the pages. Not for the plot, not for the characters who have become acquaintances or friends. What entrances me may be the words themselves, the poetry. Most often though it is the philosophical thoughts that have made an inroad in my brain –Continue reading “La Magna Via”
The Sagra Part II
Local pop groups have set up their acoustic guitars and drums and a singer is trying out her repertoire. They seem to be popular despite their rather deafening volume as people start dancing. There may also be theater representations with plays in the local dialect and with improvised actors. In other words, an evening ofContinue reading “The Sagra Part II”
The Sagra Part I
I’ve had my supper and turned out the light. The sky is still pale for the moon is full as I visualize my friends at the Sagra del Bosco with the local families lining up to pay for their orders before finding their assigned tables. I have decided not to go, afraid it would tireContinue reading “The Sagra Part I”
Notes in The Night
Whenever a thought occurred to me that I didn’t want to lose, whenever I had what you might call an inspiration, I used to jot whatever it was down on a bit of paper. Particularly in the middle of the night. I would switch on the light and scribble whatever it was, hoping I couldContinue reading “Notes in The Night”
Xenia
I am in my shop just off Piazza Duomo when Carlo stops by. If you don’t have anything better to do, I’m going to see a friend in a small town in the hills. Want to come? Well, yes. I don’t have anything better to do and my sales assistant will see to the shop,Continue reading “Xenia”
The Quick Brown Fox
8:30 a.m. My son has just finished giving his 17-year old cat her breakfast. Now he turns to his 96-year old mom before making his way upstairs to his computer studio via the spiral staircase that brings to mind an Austrian chalet and not an Italian farm house. The stairs reflect my father’s Germanic originsContinue reading “The Quick Brown Fox”
Lugnano
Lugnano in Teverina (August 1993) You have to know it’s therebut even soit takes you by surprise.A tiny hilltop townwith down belowa far flung valley of olive grovesand fields of wheat. We are politely informedwhere to leave our car.A narrow spiral staircase takes us to the road.We cross and entera meander of streetsin an apparentlyContinue reading “Lugnano”
Memory II
Back to the beginning, two There are no barriers to where your thoughts will take you. I was back once more in 1957. Perhaps it wasn’t so strange after all that I should be a little afraid. Up until now everything seemed to have moved with a kind of fatality that made every act seemContinue reading “Memory II”
Memory I
Back to the Beginning There are no barriers to where your thoughts will take you. After finding the villa a friend had lent us for our honeymoon, Mario and I stretched out in the sun. I had already walked along the shore and photographed the fishermen hauling in their nets. Now, with nothing special toContinue reading “Memory I”
Wedding II
That evening in Mario’s family home we prepared the confetti or sugared almonds which were to be given as thank you favors for the presents. Good luck symbols, five sugar-coated almonds wrapped in a white net bag, tied with a silver cord and with an orange blossom, to be laid in a porcelain dish, orContinue reading “Wedding II”
Wedding I
Europe but mostly Italy People, art, landscapes, the culture As a child in the thirties and forties most of what was happening in the world had passed me by. I preferred wandering barefoot in fields and woods, alone. I would lie down in the grass, among sun-kissed wild strawberries, and watch the clouds move slowlyContinue reading “Wedding I”
Belonging II
TO A SPECIFIC STREET IN A SPECIFIC TOWN When I got married, we moved to a specific street, in a specific town, in a specific part of Italy. It was not simply a village but a real town with several thousand inhabitants and I discovered that it was the people with whom I identified moreContinue reading “Belonging II”
Belonging
To place, to who we are. Belonging to the many places we have lived in. Places that have become part of our story, part of our lives. Immigrants over the years. Or emigrants. Places where fate takes us, sometimes we find it has been drawing us like a magnet ever since we were born, placesContinue reading “Belonging”
That Time of Year
It’s that time of year. Bees and bugs and butterflies. Beetles of various shapes and hues. There were two of them who came to pay me a visit. One appeared on my flower pot outside, the other one was inside, trying to get out. The first was black and really handsome, his long antennas wavingContinue reading “That Time of Year”
Never-ending Books
A friend comes to visit. Yes, I know that’s what last week’s post started with. And what do we talk about? Books. Yes, we still talk about books. Not ones we have read, but those we have listened to or watched. These are books we have “seen”, and include a third person, not just theContinue reading “Never-ending Books”
Books
Things shared Experiences Words Books Things heard, things seen: these can be simultaneous. But not touch or taste. For those they must be translated into words. A friend comes to visit. And what do we talk about? Books. We might have shared experiences, things heard, things seen. But it is books that connect us most.Continue reading “Books”
Erika Bizzarri 