Laurie on Stage

More than a decade has passed. We find ourselves drawn once again to this “delusional” bedtime story, woven by the master storyteller, Laurie Anderson.

On a Saturday night 12 years ago, we witnessed a spectacular performance. At the EX3 Theater of Contemporary Arts across the Arno River in Florence Italy, Laurie Anderson mesmerized the audience with a one-woman show. An incredibly creative and energetic performing artist, singer, musician, inventor and philosopher, she did not disappoint! “Normal” instruments weren’t enough to express her dream-state thoughts and feelings. So, she invented one: an electronic violin that uses special magnetic tape on the bow instead of horsehair and space-age pick-ups that make the violin wail like a wild cat. Laurie’s philosophy is expressed weaving diverse fragments of life into a political-personal-psychological-fairy tale performance. Her style is unique and we’ve never experienced anything quite like it.

Florence/Firenze

Following is the excerpt from a local newspaper, “The Florentine,” November 2010, which described her anticipated performance: “Delusion” is an eclectic multimedia show that brings together various forms of media, including video, music, monologues, and electronic puppets and violins. The show, which made its premier last February at the Vancouver Olympic Games, is conceived as a series of short mystery plays featuring elves and golems, nuns and dead relatives, fantastical unmanned ships and dark, scary forests. Through a series of altered voices and imaginary guests, Laurie Anderson’s colourful and poetic language in “Delusion” is a reflection on words and things, life and language. “Delusion,” a story of longing, memory and identity, makes its Italian premier in Florence, as part of Ex3’s New Musical Events.

Art Like Great Wine?

She has described her art as “of the moment,” and says that it doesn’t really keep well over time. While her many videos create a chronicle of her performances throughout the years, they don’t quite tell a full story.

We arrived early, as usual, to claim third row seats. From 8:30 pm, when the doors opened, people slowly wandered into the theater. In true Italian style, they chatted in the aisles, gesturing to animate their conversations. The l’ora accademia, (the academic hour) prevailed, which is customary in Italy. Performances and lectures begin a fashionable 15 minutes later than scheduled. At 9:30 pm the theater lights flickered to indicate the beginning of the show. Some obstinate folks continued to linger, ultimately fumbling their way to their seats in the dark.

Stage screen

A full-projection screen covered the back part of the stage, while two smaller screens flanked each side, strategically angled.  The 10 x 10 screen to the left resembled a giant blank hallmark card. The other flanking screen to the right appeared to be a security fence hidden beneath a white nubby tablecloth, casually  thrown over it at the last minute. A keyboard stood just right of center with Laurie’s strange electronic violin hanging precariously on a side hook. Then front and center, was a loosely covered sofa of sorts—the form looked a bit like spontaneously draped Halloween wax lips. Finally, completing the scene was a small platform toward the back of the stage.

The show began a full hour before Laurie appeared onstage, with a projector casting black and white oscillating pop-art images onto the couch—like a lava lamp without the liquid. It was undulating, almost nauseating. Despite having motion sickness, we were intrigued. Laurie finally emerged from the shadows wearing an untucked crisp white shirt, an artsy tie (loosely knotted under the collar), and black knit capris. As a final touch, she wore the cutest little sparkling Mary-Jane shoes with translucent soles.

Laurie’s violin

Laurie quietly floated her way to the keyboard. With a dreamy look on her face, she began playing several repeated chords while talking—and so the narrative unfolded. For 90 minutes, she wove stories, reading from her computer screen or paper notes, delicately pressing buttons on floor controls with her feet, while frequently launching into musical tirades with her vio-lectro-lin. With the latest technology, she made the sound of her voice alternate between ethereal, almost angelic and Darth Vader-like menacing tones. Several times she sang—her voice sounding like a strange other-worldy visitation. As she spoke, sang, read or played music, there were thousands of wild images flashing onto the 3 screens: scribbles on chalkboards, rain, blowing leaves, and other random dream-scapes.

Overall, it was an amazing, wonderfully thought-provoking evening. She was flawless and nothing short of masterful. With all the diverse ideas presented, as well as the sensory bombardment, we were exhausted by the end of performance. On the drive home, we wondered, “What does it all mean?” It was a performance that needed some mulling over. The pondering continues to this day—perhaps for the rest of our lives.?

We agree that her art is especially tasty “in the moment,” but find her message actually ages quite well—timeless, like a fine wine, better with every passing year.

What an incredible bedtime story!

Credits

Feature image above: courtesy of sfjazz.org
Video courtesy of YouTube
Cover of the Florentine courtesy of theflorentine.net
Laurie’s violin photo courtesy of Derrick Belcham
Story courtesy of our long-term memories

Related Music

“Nighty-Night Rosie June”—Another kind of bedtime story designed to take you into peaceful slumber rather than calling forth your most complex nighttime illusions/delusions:

 

 

“How much is that doggie in the window
The one with the waggly tail
How much is that doggie in the window
I do hope that doggie’s for sale”

Patti Page popularized the novelty song, “(How much is) That Doggie in the Window?” in 1952, when we had each achieved the magical age of 1. The answers to those questions were clear for us even as children and became underscored as the years went on. Here are the questions, followed by our answers: “How much?”—”priceless” and “For Sale?”—”not a chance.”

Doggie in a bag

If you want to have some fun, put a dog in a carry bag (preferably a small dog) and take it everywhere you go. Doing this in Italy resulted in our pooches becoming our “doggies in the window,” attracting the attention of many passers-by. We began with our dearly departed Izzy-B. Her name was Isabel, but Italians knew her as “Ee-sah-bella.” She was a real sweetheart who graciously allowed us to carry her everywhere—the grocery store, restaurants, running errands—the destination made no difference to her. She never uttered one complaint or showed a lack of enthusiasm. She seemed to bask in the attention of all the friendly folks who greeted her.

After 2 years without a doxie, we adopted her successor Sara, pronounced “Sah-dah” in Italian. We’ve had strangers scheming to sneak her into forbidden places, while others have screamed with glee as they take her little face into both hands to smooch her loudly. Most people can’t resist feeding her tiny treats they carry in their pockets, and we’ve even had her magical power give us direction and grant special favors. Following is just one silly example of the antics:

Doggie in the window

Em needed a haircut in Italy. He’d seen a barber shop in the nearby town of Caldine, just across from the local grocery store. It looked promising, so he thought he’d give it a try. One day, while Cheryl was at the market, he walked over for a trim. As usual, Sara was tucked into her carry-bag and barely visible. The barber spun around to offer Em a seat in the barber’s chair. Suddenly, he saw Sara peeking from under Em’s arm. Barber Giovanni is an avid dog lover and was fine with Em keeping Sara on his lap during the haircut—he simply let the barber’s cape drift slowly down over both of them. Another man entered the shop and Giovanni insisted on giving him a peek at Sara. He carefully lifted the hem of the cape to present a napping doggie. Everyone laughed at the silly sight. Sara glanced up momentarily and then fell back asleep.

Sara: doggie dis-covered

After the long pandemic travel drought, we finally returned to Italy some 2 years later. Although he’d had a few haircuts stateside, Em really liked Giovanni’s technique so he returned to the shop for another trim. As Em entered the barber shop, Giovanni paused over his seated customer. Holding his comb and scissors in mid-air, he greeted Em, “Hello, hello, how’s Sara?”(“Ciao, ciao, come sta Sah-dah?”) Em quickly realized that Giovanni didn’t remember his name—just Sara’s. Em replied that she was waiting in the car with Cheryl, but offered to retrieve her. When they returned, the finished customer stood to leave and Giovanni gestured for Em to be seated. Em placed Sara on his lap just like before, anticipating the same fluttering barber’s cape. Giovanni whooshed the large white bib up and out, then waited for it to settle over them. This time, to Em and Sara’s surprise, there was a new feature in the large cape. A clear window had been sewn into the front of it, seemingly custom-made for a furry friend. Sara was completely visible, giving everyone a hearty chuckle as she peered out through the plastic window (finestra di plastica), a bit puzzled and curious. It may have taken her a few extra seconds to fall asleep. Giovanni explained that the cape-windows are intended for cell phone use. However, we agreed that a dedicated dog-window is much more important and a lot more fun!

So, we return to the original question: “How much is that doggie in the (modified cape) window?”—still “priceless.” We wouldn’t trade our little fur baby for all of Italy, or the entire world for that matter! Our theory was supported yet again: some furry fun is always guaranteed when a dog is in tow.

Related Stories and Music

Puppy Love

Simone and Alessia arrived around mezzogiorno, noon the other day for lunch with us in the country. The sun was bright and the air was clear with that unmistakable fall crispness. We hadn’t seen them for over a year, so it was especially fun for us to have that time together to sit and talk . . .

Simple Pleasures

Sometimes Mondays are all about Tuesday.

What?! Are you confused? Don’t be. Tuesday is the name of our daughter’s chocolate lab. No, Iris does not work in research at Hershey headquarters in Pennsylvania. No, she didn’t adopt her sweet puppy on a Tuesday afternoon, but we do celebrate Tuesdays as double days.

Our Tuscan adventure taught us that strength, power, intellect, efficiency, and capability are genderless qualities. And sometimes they are named Barbara.

Tuscan Hills

We were determined to find a one room art/music studio in Italy—full of romance, abundance, creativity, magic, wonder, and beauty. Essentially, we wanted to immerse ourselves in the powerful Feminine Energy of the Tuscan Hills—the epicenter of the legendary Italian Renaissance, that incredible experiment in humanity. Florence (Firenze) whispered to us and its rolling northern hills beckoned. Our plan seemed simple enough. We longed to “birth” something new from deep within. However, life is messy sometimes, and cross-cultural life can be downright chaotic.

Just a one room studio

We found the perfect place, unfortunately in ruins. Our friend Pietro said, “This project sounds tricky. There’re many Italian laws you MUST know and follow. You need a good attorney (avvocato). You need Barbara!” Even though her specialty is corporate law, as a favor to Pietro, Barbara agreed to assist. She was an absolute godsend and without her, our dream wouldn’t have been fulfilled. She not only speaks English, but she’s great fun and definitely knew how to work through the intricacies of the Italian bureaucracy. 

It just so happened that Barbara was pregnant with her first child when we started working together. We soon met her husband, Giacomo and our Italian adventure expanded. They were starting their family and we were beginning our dream journey at the same time. As the years passed, we came to understand the significance of Barbara and her baby.  

The site was cleared

The spring was filled with tough negotiations, promises, miscues and confusion. The developers were a challenge to work with, but Barbara remained calm and collected throughout the process. She was up against a negotiating team of 80% men, which made the game even more fun for our Wonder-Woman attorney. Single-handedly, she charged forward with confidence and negotiated everything we needed to close the deal. Although Italy remains a patriarchal society and Italian men basically still run the show, Barbara was amazing and a real powerhouse. We were certain that we had tapped directly into the fierce Tuscan heart of ancient Feminine Energy and perhaps we even caught a glimpse into the not-too-distant future. We just stood back and watched her do what seemed to come natural—the impossible.

That summer Barbara and Giacomo welcomed their first daughter. We shared their excitement as we all greeted the new addition to our Female Power Team. We felt an immediate emotional attachment to their sweet daughter. After all, she was in the room with us (in utero, of course) during all of the negotiations and debates. With our young new partner and renewed enthusiasm we turned our attention to the promise of a completed arts studio. 

The invisible stuff

The second year of the project crept by very slowly, as the construction company readied the site, cleared and prepped for building to begin. There was visible activity, but at a snail’s pace. We had devastating periods of discouragement, due to the contractors’ inaction and constant internal conflicts. To say that it was exasperating would be an understatement. But soon, we received wonderfully distracting news, Barbara and Giacomo announced that a new baby would be joining the family.

Soon, their second daughter was born and the Power Team increased. Barbara was now super-busy with her full-time job as a lawyer, our project and two little girls (bambine) in tow. Since they had become a family of four, they needed more space. So, Barbara and her husband casually added more construction and relocation projects to their to-do list—without even flinching. They were busy times indeed with many changes, EXCEPT for the studio project which continued to drag along at a the pace of an old Tuscan turtle.

Stone walls appeared

As time passed with very little progress, we were nearing the end of our patience. We even entertained the possibility of scrapping the whole project. Once again. Barbara made a quick intervention, saying  “WHEN (more accurately, WHENEVER) the project is completed, it will have definitely appreciated in value.” She emphatically said we would be FOOLISH to withdraw from the contract. Since Barbara was a force of nature to be reckoned with, we followed her advice, immersing ourselves into writing more music and stories—the perfect distraction.

What seemed to be a relatively short time later, Barbara gave birth to her third baby. Unbelievable! Another sweet little girl joined the team representing another substantial increase in Feminine Power. Compared with our slow-motion project, it was incredible to note that 3 perfect little people had been born into our tiny sphere of “family.” How could this happen? How is it possible to create three baby girls in less time than it takes to rebuild/restore an old Tuscan barn? 

Finished Studio?

We finally moved into our dream studio at the end of the four-year odyssey. Although no one could deem it “move-in ready” by any means, our studio was finally a reality—just a wee bit late (più tarde). Somehow, all the delays and consternations were curiously within the limits allowed by Italian law (don’t ask). Never-the-less, we had keys in hand. So we turned our attention to the yard, or as the Italians call it, the GARDEN. We quickly learned that trees are masculine and the fruit is feminine as we focused on “bearing fruit.” Soon enough, we had enclosed and surrounded our little stone studio with lush vegetation—a soft green embrace.  

The Studio Goddess

Our dream studio could not have happened without Barbara, Giacomo and their three sweet little girls. The overwhelming presence of Feminine Energy inspired us. And yes just like the garden, it takes both the masculine and the feminine to make it work, but we’re thinking about an ideal balance of 80/20—majority Female Power. Our little project nestled in the Tuscan hills remains as a powerful symbol for us as we remember that simple truth: “The future is female!” 

This is a true “Italian Moments” story of actual events from 1999 – 2004

Related Stories and Music

 

The story called “Good Girl” speaks to the essential life-giving power of feminine energy.

We wrote another short story and music a few years back about our romance with Tuscany called “Tuscan Hills.” Check it out if you’re so inclined. 

When first arriving at the site of the ruins, we were captivated and swept away in the mystery of it all. We called it “My Treasured Heart.”

Palazzo in Firenze

Once upon a time, in a magnificent palazzo in the center of Firenze (Florence) Italy, lived Beatrice Portinari with her adoring family. They spent their summers and weekends in the cool Florentine hills in her family’s serene villa—the quiet and lush Tuscan countryside unfolding just beyond the city. Italy, in 1275, was on the cusp of the Italian Renaissance, poised to leave medieval times behind.

Tuscan hills at Villa

“Bice,” celebrated her 8th birthday with a lavish party at her country villa. There she met young Dante Alighieri for the first time. The 9 year-old-boy found himself speechless—love at first sight. More than just smitten with her beauty, he sensed something deeper. Her presence seemed to exude a spiritual quality, an aura of perfection. Had Dante seen an angel? Perhaps. Would his life ever be the same? No.

Dante Alighieri

Dante also lived in Firenze, but his family had a country villa, as well. In fact, his country home was just a ten-minute walk from Beatrice‘s place. Even though they shared a geographically small world, they only encountered one another a few times in their lives. Sadly, Bice died at the age of 24, but her influence remained a constant companion in both Dante‘s writing and in his dreams—she was his muse and inspiration.

Likeness of Beatrice

Dante‘s book La Vita Nuova was written about his love for Beatrice. His adoration was neither physical nor earthly, but was rather an ethereal, aspirational, platonic or even agape love that inspired his journey toward enlightenment. In Dante’s La Davina Commedia (The Divine Comedy), Beatrice appeared as a guide to lead him into Heaven. While Dante could only approach Heaven, Beatrice took her seat next to God, as an amazing divine spirit—truly other-worldly.

We imagine our “Best Self” as a modest reflection of Heaven’s perfection. In order to move toward our “Heavenly Best,” don’t we all need a muse—someone who inspires, guides and leads us to our highest possibility? How romantic a thought, to be smitten by an earthly presence who shows us a way that we could otherwise never even imagine. For us, the story of Dante and Beatrice presents a powerful, idealistic yet tangible image—a vision to help us navigate this Life on Earth and beyond.

Credits

Featured image above: Dante encounters Beatrice in the historic center of Florence, Italy C1285—this painting is dated 1883 by the artist Henry Holiday, on display in the Walker Art Gallery in Liverpool, England.

Dante: Painting by Attilio Roncaldier 1801-1884, Ravenna, Museo Dantesco.

Beatrice: Painting by Washington Allston 1819, The Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

Related Stories and Music

Winter’s End
This musical story and lyrics were written by Cheryl, alone in Tuscany on a cold winter dusk as she gazed out the window toward the beautiful Villa Portinari. Following are her poetic musings put to music. 

Beatrice’s Ghost
This music was spontaneously written and recorded in our Tuscan cantina by Joshua Housh in 2009—inspired by the mystery of the nearby historic villas of Beatrice and Dante.

Coffee is an integral part of Italian culture.

Intreccio

Every morning begins with an espresso, a cappuccino, or a caffè macchiato (an espresso, stained with milk). A fresh pasta, pastry, typically accompanies the coffee. Just those two simple ingredients constitute collazione, breakfast. There are coffee bars in almost every town, even tiny burgs where there are few, if any other shops. We’ve enjoyed the simple ambience of many and how they must compete for the loyalty of locals. Now that the Tokyo olympic games are over, we thought it would be fun to conduct our own little competition for the best Tuscan coffee bar this season!

The criteria for judging this play-off has been established as follows:

(1) best espresso—duhh?

(2) friendliest barrista/staff 

(3) yummiest pastries—whether made in the back room kitchen or brought in daily from a nearby pasticceria, pastry bakery

Sara waiting to go for coffee

(4) best dog treats (Our ever-present doxy, Sara insisted.)

And since we’re reasonably sure that we’ve visited just about every bar in Tuscany at least once for the past two decades, we consider ourselves “expat-experts” of sorts.  

Three outstanding bars made it to the last round of the competition after extensive discussion and debate. The finalists are: 

Bar Cesare in Florence, definitely excels with its in-house pasticceria. Their sfoglia con ricotta, crispy-layered pastry with sweetened cheese, are so delicious that it jostles memories of the famous cartoon dog who floated mid-air with delight when he was given a dog treat. But alas, Bar Cesare offers absolutely NO dog treats. Sara gave it a “dew claw down” (the doggie version of a thumbs down). In fact, the owners, staff and patrons pay very little attention to Sara. Too bad guys! 

Cafe Lorenzo, (which we have written about before) is located in Pian di Mugnone. Great ambience, yummy pastries (made fresh every day on site) and macchiati—so good that we had to restrain ourselves from excessive savoring, to accommodate the rapid 2-sip custom. However, despite their strong competitive scoring, their dog treats are always scraps of cornetti (croissants). So, due to that avoidable, yet critical omission of actual heart-healthy dog treats, we moved on. Sorry Lorenzo

Outstanding K9 hospitality

Cafe Plineo, located in the river-town of Sieci, proved to be the toughest of all competitors. Their coffee is excellent; the owners are delightful; they have a pastry called an intreccio—a cinnamon braided pastry with walnuts (with an outlandish premium 10 ₵ surcharge); and they ALWAYS, ALWAYS make-over Sara and give her a wholesome dog treat just for being cute. Needless to say, Plineo won the competition “paws-down” with the warmed-up intreccio and hearty treats for sweet Sara. According to Sara, they won by a nose—which, for a dachshund is a significant point margin. 

Walter, Simone & 2021 Trophy

Congratulations to Walter (say Vall-tear) and Simone (Mario, unfortunately wasn’t there for the closing ceremony). We appreciate all that you guys do each day to make our Italian bar-hopping experience more delicious and enjoyable—also, for the heartfelt hospitality you extend to dear Sara, our poochy companion. She appreciates your attention to the moon and back.

So, Dear Readers, if you ever find yourself near the small town of Sieci, along the Arno river, you must stop at Plineo for a taste of an incredible intreccio and where you can get a dog treat to go!

Thus ends the annual “Best Italian Bar” competition for 2021 (special pandemic edition). 

Ciao, ciao, ciao!
Cheryl, Em and Sara

You might also enjoy another doggy/bar story complete with music called “Isabella“—written in 2013 about our other previous Italian Doxy companion.

There’s an old saying about Tuscan wines—a Chianti wine you want in front of you at the table. A Pomino wine you must keep by your side—so special, it’s to be reserved for just the right moment.

Pomino

While hiking on a crisp, clear spring morning in the Pratomagno hills of Tuscany, we came upon a valley view that drew us deeper into the Frescobaldi family history. Pomino (which means little apple) is a small town tucked away in the Tuscan Hills that surround the beautiful Renaissance city of Florence, Italy. In 1716, the Grand Duke Cosimo III de’ Medici identified the four most highly prized territories of Tuscany for the production of wines. Today, not many know about the intimate burg of just over 200 people, but they certainly know of the famous wine that’s produced there—Pomino Bianco. The town’s elevation is some 600 meters above sea level, where white grapes grow best, so that’s the specialty in that small region. Pomino and its renowned wines are a relatively small part of the historic Marchesi de Frescobaldi estate, which has remained a family operation for over 30 generations and 700 years.

Castello Pomino

Clearly we are not wine experts, but we are compulsively drawn to the serenity, beauty and history of Tuscan culture. Surrounding the ancient Castello Pomino, lay an incredibly lush valley of vineyards. The castle was built in the 1500s and now serves as the centerpiece for that unique wine-making territory. The owners refer to the area as: “Elegance and femininity. A hidden gem that’s revealed among the woods of the Florentine mountains.” Irresistible!

The Frescobaldi family made wines that were well known throughout Europe. They socialized with the likes of artists, such as Donatello, Michelozzo Michelozzi, and Filippo Brunelleschi. Most Florentines will tell you that their city, although cosmopolitan, actually enjoys a “small town” feel. Everybody seems to know everybody else. So it’s no surprise to learn that Frescobaldi furnished wines to the well known locals, and further afield to the Papal Court in Rome. After all, at the World’s Fair of 1873 in Vienna, the wines of Pomino won coveted awards, and in 1878 took the gold medal at the World’s Fair in Paris, the highest international recognition of its time.

Splash of white wine

You might say that our story is similar to a Pomino wine—you want to save it until just the right moment. We find ourselves reminiscing about those beautiful treks through the rolling Tuscan hills. Now, some 10 years after that quiet hike in the Pratomagno, we decided it was the right time to “uncork this story.” Ahh, breathe in the distinct magic of the elixir! We savor every sip of those memories and hope you too become a bit intoxicated by the romance of it all.

Related stories and music

Tuscan Hills

You might also enjoy another story about inspiration in the Pratomagno mountains called Nipozzano Castle—have a look! And just to get you in the mood for a hypnotic Tuscan adventure, below is our song called “Tuscan Hills” written in 2003. Enjoy!

Gallery

This is a short story with a long, happy ending.

Sometimes, we want something to happen so badly, that we will do just about anything humanly possible to make it so. But, no matter how hard we try, plan and anticipate, it seems that we just can’t force a yield. NOPE. Not happening. 

Then, in that final minute, we wonder whether trying one last time might be the magical push that will work—or maybe just one more try after that? Perhaps another?

Let’s face it. It seems that it would be a cryin’ shame if we gave up just one moment too soon. Then, how do we know when to stop? A reasonable person would understand how to decide that tricky question. But, are WE reasonable? Sometimes, we’re NOT!

Voila!

So, here’s the deal. All we wanted to do was create a little one-room studio apartment in Italy. That sounds so romantic, yet easy enough. Then the twelve months project turned into four grueling years, and we were on the verge of giving up—calling it quits—surrendering to the powers that be—bowing to the bureaucracy—admitting defeat. Then, Voila! One last gut-wrenching try turned our building dirge into a victory dance. Ahhhh!

What we learned was this: there is no real answer to the question of when to let go. The dilemma is always “of the moment.” It can’t be graphed, outlined, critical-pathed or magic-8 balled ahead of time. We’ll quit when we quit . . . or not. Perhaps we might muster an ounce of courage and effort in the last seconds of trying. Give it one more go. When that final push results in success, we are reminded to NEVER GIVE UP! This may be a fool’s lesson, but we’ll take it. ALWAYS try one more time! TRUST in yourself and the process—there could be magic just around the corner!

We invite you to read our BACK STORY—called “Meeting the Notaio.” It’s the story with a happy ending, no matter what trials and tribulations are encountered.

Have you seen my tombino?

Wait, what? Is that a pick-up line? 

It must be here somewhere!?

NO! We just can’t find that darn tombino. In Italy, of course, language results in many quizical and/or dumbfounded glances. In this instance the word tombino verrrrry loosely translates to mean, a large underground junction box. It is the heartbeat of many systems that feed into a country dwelling like ours. Running underground for about 120 meters (roughly 400 feet) are electrical cables, telephone lines and water systems. The tombino is a heavy concrete lidded box. In our Tuscan hideaway, stealthily secluded underground are many of these cement cubes about 5 feet on all sides. Typically unseen and NOT generally a topic of  conversation. However, in these post-pandemic times, it has earned the distinction of being one of the most important talking points in our little corner of the world. Once found, you could probably hide in one, but we wouldn’t recommend it. But, WHERE, oh where, is my tombino? That’s the million-euro-question. Typically they’re fairly easy to locate, but unfortunately, ours has been covered over by years of crunched and compacted gravel mixed with gritty dirt. You get the picture?

Breakfast, lunch and dinner

It seems that our utilities have been interrupted by a tiny little country mouse who has nibbled through the yummy gray sheathing on the power cable to create a hole for water to seep in. Once the cable gets wet, you’re only months away from full-on corrosion. One day we’re feeling the “power”and the next day our “current” strength is completely gone. Living Without Power is of course, annoying, unacceptable, and even dangerous. The only way to remedy the situation is to locate the exact position of the “nibbled-through nuisance wire”—good luck with that! We had no choice but to locate all 7 of the buried tombini under the driveway as the first step in our problem-solving process. The first six, okay. Number seven, no way. What a challenge—trying to find a “nibble in a dirt-pack.”

The radiator seems so peaceful

Now, electricity certainly is a utility that we have come to enjoy on a daily basis. With the flip of a switch, we have light. The familiar click of a gas stove reminds us that it uses an electric ignition. But more than a mere creature comfort, it’s essential for surviving frigid winters in Tuscany. Without power, there’s NO heat. Without heat, cast iron radiators freeze. When they freeze, they burst. And they are NOT tidy bursters. They spray and spit rusty water as far as their cracks will allow. The force exerted from them mimics little explosions. It’s certainly not a pretty sight, and hopefully you’ll never have to witness or clean up such a disgusting mess.

Sneaky power work-around

During the pandemic, our neighbor informed us that we had suffered a loss of power in the winter. Yikes! We immediately flashed a joint memory of bursting radiators. Since it was too cold and nearly impossible to repair the electrical lines mid-winter, we borrowed electricity from a neighboring building. Using a very LONG extension cord (as a temporary measure), we kept the radiators happy enough that they didn’t crack-up under the stress. So when  warmer weather arrived, we kicked into high gear to find a quasi-permanent solution for the electricity issue. Hence, we found ourselves in a desperate search for that seventh elusive tombino, which was the key to our success.

Alongside two trusty electricians, we energetically swung picks at the hardened earth and scraped the loosened dirt with our shoes and shovels to clear the debris. After multiple attempts and without success, we shifted again and again, to a different digging location, every time someone shouted “Let’s dig here!” The driveway started to look like giant gophers had taken up residence, randomly having popped up, leaving gaping holes and massive mounds of gravel. Our day ended on a note of dismay and discouragement.

Could it be?

But persistence persisted. Later that evening, our neighbor sent a text, “WOW, I found it.” No, he hadn’t been out digging in the dark, but he had discovered an equally valuable treasure—a single photograph of the house during construction. Some 20 years before, in the foreground, just barely within the frame was an old cement-covered Tuscan wheelbarrow balanced across a hole in the ground—a square hole. Safety first! There, beside that rusty-wheeled implement was a chunk of concrete shaped like—yes, a square lid. In the silence of the night, our sleuthy neighbor dug through hundreds of photos to find perhaps the only picture ever taken of that lonely tombino during construction.

Don’t let a mouse steal your power!

As with any Italian problem, endless loud talking and arm-waving is required, along with a dash of clever insight. But the noise, persistence and cunning almost always pay off. Fortunately, our neighbor snapped pics of the more mundane phases of construction—capturing momentary glimpses of life “uncovered.” We’re not finished with the repairs yet, but we currently have direction. Having a plan and renewed hope is certainly em-POWER-ing!

Related Story and Music

You might check out another story called “Living Without Power” that we wrote and recorded back in 2009 amid a devastating hurricane. Following is the music if you want a quick listen.

 

You’ve probably heard of the dog breed called the Blue Heeler. Well, our experience tells us that most dogs are amazing healers of a different kind.

The “Mystical Doctor” is open for business

Anyone who has ever had a dog can probably attest to the fact that canines, as well as other different pets, seem to have a sixth sense. It’s a multifaceted and magical capability that goes beyond empathy, love and loyalty to include powerful “healing.” Yes, that’s a big statement, but it’s true—dogs are “Mystical Doctors” rather than “medical doctors.”

For example, our little 9-pound doxy is a profound Healer. We’ve had many dogs over the years, each with a unique personality and special talents, but none have been quite like our little Sara. She seems to be hard-wired to heal.   

If one of us is having a sad or down moment, she seems to single the “patient” out, making physical contact her top priority. She’s always focused on the one in need, leaving the capable other to fend for themselves until her healing is done. It’s as if she’s a sponge, spontaneously drawn to soak up the sad or wounded energy. We joke about the magical capabilities, by calling the process, “fur-therapy.” She thinks it’s just “being a dog.”

As long as it takes—just like her nose

In these pandemic days of video medical appointments and tele-therapy, she insists on laying on the needy lap—a circle-dog all curled-up to provide optimal care. Time and energy are unimportant to Sara. She’s there for the duration, taking in the stress while imparting warmth and comfort.

Recently, Em had a tele-therapy session and Sara assumed her normal healing position in his lap. Then, as Em became agitated, Sara suddenly began to shiver. She seemed uncontrollably cold, which is odd given that it’s summer in California and human laps are typically especially warm. Em noted her strange behavior. The session ended rather abruptly due to his intense emotional reaction. What did Sara sense? 

Following the session, Em lay on the bed to regain his balance. Normally, Sara would assume her familiar conditioned position on his lap to snooze. But she behaved differently. She refused to sleep and instead, she turned away from him and laid down at the foot of the bed. He called and coaxed her to come to him, but she completely ignored his requests and, in fact, wouldn’t even look at him. 

Then Em noticed something he’d never seen before. Sara continued shaking, but now it didn’t seem that she was cold. Instead, It looked like she was shaking to throw off the negative energy she had absorbed from him. Our conclusion was that his negative mood had been too much for her. She had reached overload! Apparently she was just too maxed-out and couldn’t convert the bad energy to good.  Furthermore, she refused to come anywhere near him for the rest of the evening.

The following day, Em regained perspective and equilibrium and Sara couldn’t get enough of him. Perhaps she deemed the remaining energy work to be possible. Or maybe he was feeling so much better she just wanted to soak-up some of that positive energy. In any case, her presence was sorely needed and made all the difference in his day of recovery.

This story is an anecdotal, intuitive recollection of “a day in the life with Sara.” There’s nothing scientific or measurable. However, when you find yourself in need of some therapy, rather than asking, “Is there a doctor in the house?”, why not consider fur-therapy. Simply ask, “Is there a dachshund in the house?” We think someone will answer the call and come running.

Healing in process

An addendum: As usual for a weekend, we went to get coffee at one of our favorite coffee bars. A woman sitting next to us, noticed Sara and turned toward her. We introduced Sara and the lady smiled and asked to pet her. Then, she requested, “May I hold her?”  We gently handed over all 9 pounds of Sara and she was immediately comfortable with the stranger. Then we  glanced at the woman’s face to see that tears were streaming down her cheeks. She said, “You have no idea how much I needed this love, thank you sooo much!”  Sara responded with a couple of quick licks—which always means, “You’re welcome.”

Related Story and Music

Sweet Isabella

Sara’s older half-sister Isabella (Izzi-B) was our previous “Mystical Doctor,” hanging a shingle outside our home for 16 years. She later became a well-known Italian personality after many adventures in Tuscany. The following story called “Isabella” was written for her in 2013 and we share it now in her loving memory.

Dead flies cause the ointment of the apothecary to become rancid. A terrible smell supposedly wafts into the air. Could that be our problem!

That unmistakable smell

The smell of sweaty tennis shoes clued us in that we had issues with dampness in the small annex building, or anesso as the Italians call it. To us, it’s just our studio. We worked there most days, writing music, drawing, recording and reading. However, the small enclosed cantina, cellar beneath was the culprit, we were sure. Pretending that airing out the space above was sufficient, we tried various techniques to enhance the air quality.

One approach we tried was the muffa mangia, the mildew eater. This device was a half-gallon size plastic box with a tray suspended slightly down from the top. On this tray a block of moisture attractant is placed and as it sucks the moisture from the air, the water fills the space beneath the tray. Didn’t work. It may have worked had it been the equivalent of, say, a family size refrigerator? So we called our engineer friend, Leonardo and requested professional help. His recommendation? Claudio.

Claudio is a contractor who looks completely at home on a motorcycle. He has very dark hair and eyes to match, ties a colorful scarf around his neck and looks the part of the romantic loner. He was our man. We forgot to even ask his last name since he came highly recommended and we had immediate rapport. With an artistic wave of his hand, “Team Claudio” went into high gear.

Rotting wood from inside the cantina

First, they opened the cantina by removing the temporary stone wall where the door should be, only to discover that the original contractors had actually abandoned scaffolding inside. It was an absolutely disgusting scene. After 5 years or so, the wood planks had slowly disintegrated, creating the rotting wood smell that we couldn’t quite recognize from inside the studio above. In addition, a patch of mildew the size of Rhode Island heaved and slimed on the back wall as we watched. Mystery solved! The source for the nauseating smell was exposed.

Finished cantina with triple floor!

Claudio assured us that he could solve the moisture problem by pouring a concrete floor, building an open grid on top of that so that air might circulate, and finally, pouring a second concrete floor on top of the grid. What a GENIUS! At this point (just between the two of us), we began referring to him as “Clau-god,” since in Italian, dio means god. He certainly was our hero, and definitely looked the part.

After the clever double-floor was installed, the guys resurfaced the walls and finally, for good measure, laid a moisture resistant tile floor making our double floor into a TRIPLE. That cinched the deal! The cantina was finally dry and consequently, so was the studio. The ominous smell of dirty gym socks quickly dissipated!

Claudio performed a final inspection and declared the project complete. We agreed and took out our checkbook. Payment was the only thing left. With pen poised above the assegna, check, I remarked, “Claudio, I don’t even know your last name.”

“Tafani.”

Horsefly

Tafani? Doesn’t tafani mean horseflies? “Si, si. In fatti abbiamo una stemma di famiglia, Yes, yes, in fact we have a family crest.” At the same moment, in our mind’s eye, we each pictured a flowing golden silk banner graced with a delicately embroidered horsefly. We glanced at each other as if to say, “this must be a joke.” But, it was not!

He went on to explain, however, that there had been some bad blood between some of the family members centuries ago, and that after a serious disagreement, the only logical conclusion was for the family to separate. They broke into two distinct factions. In a final act of civility, Claudio’s ancestors had chosen to amicably share the rich heritage of the family horsefly crest. After much debate, they decided to literally cut the image of the horsefly in half.

When we commented that the two halves were virtually equal, Claudio corrected our misperception, “No, no. È stato tagliato orizzontalmente, No, no it was cut horizontally.” WHAT!? WHAT!? Was he saying that one side of the family inherited the top half of a horsefly and the other crest depicts the lower half of the body, legs and all?

Clau-god to the rescue! (a facsimile)

“Si, si. La mia famiglia è rappresentata dalla metà con le gambe, Yes, yes. My family is represented by the half with the legs.” We shook our heads in disbelief as we walked him to his motorcycle. He carefully retied his colorful scarf, tucked his dark hair into his helmet, and swung his leg over the bike. We stifled a chuckle, imagining a horsefly swinging 3 of his 6 legs over the bike. We all waved as he headed down the drive, an ancient noble insect flying away on the sultry summer winds. There was NO fly in our ointment, in fact the air smelled of honeysuckle. We watched as the dust billowed into the dusk. We sighed. There goes our hero, our Clau-god!

This is a true “Italian Moments” story in which everything happened almost exactly as described, in the summer of 2009.