The Circle Game

On the walls of every Italian town are posted death notices. Big, white paper announcements of recent deaths are plastered next to the SuperShop food discount offerings and other advertisements. These death notices are graceful in their simplicity, with elegantly fonted script and bolded information about age, name, and date of death. I really appreciate that when you die in Italy you get a nice, big notice about town, as if to say, "Hey! This is big news!" For a survivor of a loved one's death, there is no suffering through some small, poorly written obituary in the town's paper and no need to call neighbors about the loss: the news is already [literaly] all over town, and everyone can grieve and celebrate life, together.

On our way to the market today, we noticed a new one had been plastered on the wall, for a 91 year old woman who died two days ago. The kids and I stopped and reflected about her life a minute--surely this woman had seen a lot--and imagined facts about her. A graceful Madonna was painted near her name, and her peaceful presence gave the whole announcement a sleepy, realxed feel.

I imagine that she was like so many of the wonderful older women we are meeting around Toscolano and Moderno. Without exception, they stop and compliment me about the kids, or have a special smile for Rachel. Never have I been around a culture so sure of the blessings of children, nor ready to welcome them into the world. Rachel has seized the spirit, and is now a full-on bambina ham, expertly executing the endearing little backward wave adults give children. Say "ciao" and Rachel will perform the Italian hand wave usually on cue, much to the delight of all the older women, and to the delight of us.