At thirteen, the grandson,
Braces on his teeth,
Gangly, alert, affectionate,
Is beautiful.
His grandfather, Fabbio, a man
Seventeen years older than I,
Is touchingly obsessed. He wants
Us to feel, to touch, history,
Those fierce days at Riva Ridge and
Gaggio Montano. He pillages
Cabinet after cabinet, showing
Artifacts: Grenades, unopened packs
Of Lucky Strikes, tooth powder, and
A full array of uniforms the Germans, G.I.’s,
Italians, even the Brazilian Battalion, wore.
And here he stops, a tear in his eye.
He holds a faded photo of a soldier
From Rio de Janeiro, “mi caro amigo”
He intones. The grandson says in English
What we had already understood.
Then the old man affectionately tries to
Place a Mussolini youth corps hat on his
Reticent grandson’s head, and he resists,
Playfully: “No, no, no,” he insists.
His grandpa doesn’t argue,
Just reaches somewhere else and
Hands me a medallion from 2005
Celebrating the 60th year of peace.
The boy’s sweet smile now illuminates
The scene, restores a bit of light
To a small but cherished room
In the mountains of now free Italy.
( July, 2007 )
Don Foran is a Literature and Ethics professor living in Olympia, WA. He has a strong commitment to creativity and sustainability. Travel, he says, enriches his life.
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This photo was taken in the outskirts of Shanghai by Yang-chen lake. I had just gotten off a boat and was making my way back to the car through a sidewalk lined with vendors selling mainly local fruits and vegetables. I was particularly drawn to this friendly old man at the end of the line because he looked so content with life and happy spirited.
