I Am A Reader - "A Child Al Confino" by Eric Lamet

Books feed my soul.  A short walk through my house attests to our love of books...having run out of book shelf space, there are discrete and not-so-discrete piles of To-Be-Read books tucked here and there. When we travel, the biggest decision is what books to take, shuddering at the thought of being without something to read. In an effort to travel lighter and only hand-carry items onto the plane, we purchased Kindles so we could have a huge library of electronic books at our finger tips.  Because it can get costly to continually purchase Kindle editions of books, I always take the time to look at any recent ebooks offered for "free" from Amazon.  In January, for a few days, the book "A Child Al Confino" was such a book.  I did not know anything about the book but the fact that it was about a Jewish boy and his experiences in Italy during World War II was enough to entice me to grab it while I had the chance and I read while on a recent trip to the Midwest.

The subtitle is "The True Story of a Jewish Boy and His Mother in Mussolini's Italy" and it is the story of the author's experiences as he and his mother began to flee when the Nazi's invaded Vienna...going from one town to another...from Vienna, to Milan, to Paris, to San Remo in an effort to stay one step ahead of the authorities. Eventually they were sent by the Italian government to the remote primitive village of Ospedaletto d'Alpinolo where they were placed in exile...in il confino.

Mussolini had instituted a confinement system, called "Il Confino," to marginalize those who could cause the regime harm by placing them into a forced exile.  Initially it was vocal Italian political opponents of Fascism that were exiled to Italy's countless small islands, but after 1940, when Italy entered WWII, any foreign Jews who had not fled the country were subjected to il confino, being sent into exile into isolated villages.

Ospedaletto d'Alpinolo is such a village. Located in the Apennine Alps, east of Naples, in the province of Avellino, region of Campania it sits perched 2,200 feet above sea level.

Ospedaletto d'Alpinolo

During the war there were more than 60 internees there, mostly foreigners.  Told from a 12 year old's perspective in the first person, the bulk of the story is about the struggle of life in this remote primitive mountain village. Taken there with whatever belongings they could carry, they were required to remain in the area and to report in daily to the local police station.  They were responsible for themselves, had to locate a place to live and to scrounge for food even trying to earn money to supplement the small monthly stipend that they received from the government.  Their correspondence was censored.  Because of the racial laws of 1939, Jews were not permitted to attend school, so Eric's mother arranges for another detainee to tutor Eric.

While it is a stark story, it also is filled with compassion, resourcefulness and humor.  Eric is am amiable child, making friends easily and finding adults who take him under their wing.  One such person was a German soldier who said Eric reminded him of his own son and told Eric, "Please do not be afraid. Believe me. I will not harm you."  Life in this village was hard and primitive but you are left with a vivid awareness of the generosity of the Italian people.  The story is enhanced with various black and white photographs that help bring the people to life.  At the end of the book is a glossary of the various Italian, German and Yiddish terms used within the narrative. While the story is poignant, I was left with the awareness that in reality, this exile really saved the lives of the "confinati" who were not sent off to camps.  Overall during WWII, the huge percentage of Jews who survived in Italy owe it to the solidarity they found among the local population. In researching this, I found the following information: Lilliana Picciotti, a historian at the Archive of the Fondazione Centro di Documentazione Ebraica Contemporanea, stated that of the 32,300 Jews living in Italy under the German occupation, 8,000 were arrested while 23,500 escaped unharmed due to the activities of the local people. There is even a recorded entry in the personal journal of Nazi Joseph Goebbels recording his contempt for the Italians because of their "lax" treatment of the Jews, protecting them and not compelling  them to wear the Star of David.

After the war ended, Eric's family made their home in Naples, where he eventually studied at the University of Naples.  He immigrated to the United States in 1950 where he currently lives. In the US he completed a business degree, worked at a variety of enterprises and finally retired as a CEO in 1992.  He is an accomplished man, speaking 5 languages, even working as an interpreter of the US Department of State, and teaching Italian. He says that writing this book was really an accident. He had been speaking to a group of women about his experiences when a woman came up to him and said he should write a book...that it would be of value, it not to him, to his children.

Eric Lamet

He has a blog here that has additional information regarding his book.

The US participated in World War II and eventually took Salerno Beach which resulted in the liberation of Eric and his mother.  But the war never touched our shores. I find myself drawn to read about Italy and of the experience of others who were not so lucky.  Two other books that I found very moving were written by Italian Jewish authors and former confinati: "Christ Stopped at Eboli" by Carlo Levi and "It's Hard to Talk About Yourself" by Natalie Ginzburg.  There is also an excellent book, "War in Val'D'Orcia: an Italian War Diary 1943-1944" by Iris Origo that is a simple chronicle of the Origo family manor, La Foce, in Tuscany where the author and her husband managed to protect their peasants, refugee children, and escaped Allied POWs from the Nazi's.

We must never forget!

I Am A Niece - Celebrating Aunt Mary

My dad was the middle child of Harriet and Joseph Rinaldi, born and raised at 627 Franklin Ave. in Kent, Ohio.  Ivo Olimpio (aka Bing) was his older brother and Mary Louise was his little sister. 

Bing, Mary and Archie Rinaldi ~1923

These three children grew up, married and settle down to raise their families in Kent, living almost a stone's throw from each other.  Of course, they gathered together for family events and needs like birthdays, holidays and illnesses and the gathering was usually at...627 Franklin Ave.  I hold many memories of the "homestead" playing in the side yard, swinging on the porch, running up and down the stairs chasing and being chased by cousins, making gnocchi on the big wooden pasta board in the kitchen, picking Italian plums from the big tree. 

627 Franklin Ave.

In midst of all this activity was Aunt Mary.  When Aunt Mary married Uncle Johnny (Steinert), they began their married life living with Grandma at...627 Franklin Ave. and there they stayed raising 5 children and caring for Grandma in her later years.
So, this house was my destination last week as Jay and I ventured across the 3000 miles separating Playa del Rey from Kent to participate in Aunt Mary's 90th birthday celebration.

Everyone should be so lucky as to have an Aunt Mary...to have an aunt that seems to see only the good and the fun in everything.  Close my eyes and I can see her eyes crinkle up and I can hear her laughter. 

Close my eyes and I can see her eyes get big as saucers and hear her voice exclaim..."Golly Neds, kiddo, I didn't know that!" No one can recount an story like Aunt Mary.  Settle in for the detailed rendition of what he said and what she did, transporting herself and you back to that time in history for the full experience.  Her life has not been a bed of roses.  She has had her share of sadness, like losing her Johnny too soon in 1978, but she picks herself up and carries on.  Humor, teasing and practical jokes spice up her life and bind her to her children and friends.  She enters into life with her whole being!  Everyone knows she is a diehard fan of the Kent State University basketball team, the Golden Flashes...so much so that when she was recently in a rehab center recovering from an illness, the family set up the TV and surrounded her with all her logo gear to cheer on her team literally turning her room into a stadium! 

Aunt Mary is a people person, attracting friends like bees to honey...and I marveled at the day of the party as I saw over 196 people surround her, each representing a thread in the tapestry of her life...relatives from Cleveland and Neff, friends from her childhood, co-workers from the University Book store, women friends from her various organizations and social groups, neighbors from over the years and her much-loved family.

The entire Steinert family!

Aunt Mary with all her great-grandchildren

As for me, when I see myself through Aunt Mary's eyes, I only see good.  I feel her love and know in my heart that no matter what my flaws or my mistakes, they are unimportant in the grand scheme of things.  I am basically good and I am loved.  

This is the gift that Aunt Mary gives to everyone. It is the reminder that life may present difficulties, you may have worries, you may not always get what you want, but the most important thing is to always see the good and enjoy the presence of all that surrounds you, the gift of the people that love you and that you love.  And more than anything else...laugh!  Everyone should be so lucky as to have an Aunt Mary.

Happy birthday, Aunt Mary....I love you!

I Am An Explorer - Discovering Mary Oliver

One of my "truths" of life is that... if a door opens to me, I will walk through to see what is there. I can always turn around and walk back out, but at least I will explore what is beyond the open door.

I never know when an open door will present itself.  Wednesday, while waiting for my turn at the physical therapist's office I picked up the April edition of Oprah Winfrey's O Magazine. As I thumbed through the pages I found myself staring at a picture of Maria Shriver with poet, Mary Oliver.

Over the years I have heard many people praise the poetry of Mary Oliver, especially my writing muse and mentor...Barbara Abercrombie.  I have never been drawn to poetry and have always felt somewhat "less" because of it.  My mind doesn't seem quiet enough nor disciplined enough to work through the lines of a poem.  I get distracted and want to move on to something more exhilarating.  Yet, I have known there must be value there that I was missing and have always filed "Read Mary Oliver's work" on my list of things to do "someday."  So, Wednesday, I walked through the door and read the article.  When I returned home, I googled some of Mary's poems on the internet.  Liking what I found, I went to the library to find a book of her work, slowly being drawn into this new experience.

What an interesting woman is Mary Oliver and what a gift she has for words.

I felt an immediate bond when I read that she was born in Maple Heights, Ohio (a suburb of Cleveland) not very far from my hometown of Kent.  A private person, she rarely gives interviews, letting her writing speak for itself.  She finds her inspiration in nature and often writes her poems in her head or in a notebook she always carries with her to jot down words or ideas as she walks the fields and paths near her home in Provincetown, MA.  Her poems are filled with very detailed and poignant observations of the world around her...the bird, the geese, the violet, the turtle.

I guess if she just stopped there, her poems would be still be lovely.  However she gives you more... using her observations as a springboard, near of the end of the poem she makes a statement or asks a question that is about life.  It is that aspect of her work that invades my spirit and stays with me.  Some of my favorite poems are "Wild Geese," "When Death Comes" and "Children, It's Spring" .  But the one poem that was referenced in the interview and which has stayed with me since I read it, is called "The Summer Day."

It begins with questions, flows into a detailed description of a grasshopper and ends with these words:

Tell me what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last.

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

With your one wild and precious life?

from: Truro Bear and Other Adventures

My one wild and precious life....my one wild and precious life...my one wild and precious life!   I can read Mary Oliver's poems...they engage me...and they leave me thinking.

For me...I don't know else I will do with my one wild and precious life, but I do know that I will continue to walk through open doors! I invite you to experience Mary Oliver!

I Am A Citizen - A Day of Americana

We love to travel and experience other places and cultures but in our core we love living in the United States of America.  Today was spent indulging in activities that reminded us that we are citizens of this wonderful country.

We started the day by participating in the Los Angeles Gun Buyback program.  Every year on the Saturday before Mother's Day the LA Police Department provides an event that allows people to turn in shotguns, handguns and rifles in exchange for up to a $100 gift certificate with "no questions asked".  It is an attempt to get guns off the streets and the timing is appropriate because so many mothers lose their children to gun violence.  My husband has been the owner of a Remington Rifle, 22 caliber.  It was a gun he purchased with money he earned as a teenager, working on his sister's farm in northern Illinois.  He used to accompany his dad and uncles when they went hunting and wanted to have his own rifle.  This gun has been hidden in the back of our closet for as long as I have lived here and I have been hoping that since he never used it, someday we would find someway to dispose of it. The thought of someone breaking into our home, stealing this outdated weapon and using it in a crime was abhorrent to me.

Jay grew up on a farm in Illinois and hunting and rifles were part of his culture.  Not so for me.  I never saw or touched a real gun until I met Jay. I disliked guns and they frighten me.  As a young mother I did not want my sons to have cowboy guns and holsters when they were children. Yet they would go outside to play and pick up sticks to use as pretend guns and their father would tell me I was fighting a losing cause...boys will be boys.  So today, after reading the announcement in the local paper, Jay suggested that we turn in the rifle.  We drove to Wilmington with the rifle wrapped in an old afghan and turned it in to the police.

They were appreciative, gave us a gift certificate and we left feeling like we had done our part to keep our neighborhoods safer.

Our next stop was to the El Segundo Hometown Fair.  Los Angeles is a sprawling metropolis, where one city runs into the next with little to differentiate one town from the next...except for the town of El Segundo.  Set apart from the rest of the megalopolis by the Los Angeles International airport on one end, the oil refineries on the other end and the ocean on the west, it sits as a little Mayberry in the South Bay.  Every year they have their Hometown Fair, held in the local park,  where local people set up booths of handcrafted items for sale.

 My friend, Gloria, was selling her "Uniquely Yours" jewlery in one booth

and another friend, Carol, was selling El Segundo T-shirts at a card table. 

The high school clubs had various food booths to raise some needed funds and Jay supported them by buying a Frito Boat.

The central feature of the park is an old fashioned bandstand.  The high school orchestra played big band tunes and then, as a fitting tribute to all that has been occurring in our world lately, played a tribute to our armed forces with a medley of theme songs of the various branches of the services. 

Stars and Stripes Forever brought tears to everyone's eyes.  We walked the park, greeted people, listened to the music and felt our hearts lifted as we realized how fortunate we are to live where we do.  We may criticize our politicians, we may wish that our economy was stronger, we may question the direction of our government strategies, but bottom line, we live in a wonderful country where we have freedoms and choices.  Days like today bring that message home to us.