27, 1, 18. Those were my family's lucky numbers, used in any case where a number was called for. My father's birthday, my mother's and mine. The phenomenon of choosing loved ones' birthdays for gambling is so common that my mathematician father maintained that to minimize one's chances of needing to share the Megabucks jackpot … Continue reading 89. Settembrino
A friend recently drew my attention to the America-Italy Society of Philadelphia, as she thought I might be interested in their Italian language classes. The classes looked great, although probably too advanced for the likes of me, but what really drew my attention was the Society's "My Italy" photo contest. Members were invited to "showcase … Continue reading 88. Worth a Thousand Words
One never expects to receive anything of interest in the U.S. mail, but the other day brought a wonderful surprise. My cousin Anna Abbruzzese came across some old family photos, and sent me a portrait I'd not seen before of my grandmother, Angela, who was her father's sister. My father lived with Anna and her … Continue reading 87. Mia Nonna Femminista
In the news this week were reports of the television journalist and personality Chris Cuomo caught on tape reacting in anger to a right-wing provocateur calling him "Fredo." Fredo, of course, is the simple and hapless older son of Don Corleone in The Godfather, brilliantly played by John Cazale, who is so craving respect that … Continue reading 86. Fredo
We read in last week's New York Times that for the first time in its 116-year tradition, non-Italians would be permitted to lift the Giglio at the Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, which takes place every year in July, in the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn. This neighborhood, where my daughter Maria now lives, … Continue reading 85. The Giglio
Because I share my name with the 1958 movie and about a million poodles, everyone wrongly assumes I'm French. But my name gets a very different reaction when I'm in Italy. People ask, "Why do you have a man's name?" It turns out I'm named after my father and my great-grandfather, both Luigi. Gigi, and … Continue reading 84. Saint Gigi
I can't say I'm a big fan of opera, but I was eager to see Ron Howard's new documentary about Luciano Pavarotti. I remember the tenor for his spirit, his charisma, his charm. And sure enough, it was on full display in this film, which played to a packed house of mostly ladies who sat … Continue reading 83. Opera Buff
Last night, I went to see the documentary Walking on Water, about the artist Christo's 2016 installation The Floating Piers at Lago di Oseo in northern Italy. The Floating Piers was a nearly two-mile-long, saffron-colored, fabric-on-polyethylene- cube walkway on the lake, extending out to and around an island. Christo, now 83 years old, is probably … Continue reading 82. Walk on Water
On an eight-day trip to Barcelona, hopping on a cheap, ninety-minute flight to Sardinia for two days proved irresistible. Here are some of the memorable things we saw in Cagliari, the provincial capital of the island: So now I get why they're called sun-dried tomatoes. Duh.Every town in Italy seems to have its own pasta … Continue reading 81. Scenes of Cagliari
My normal experience of Italian beaches, judging from Serapo beach in Gaeta, is that they are organized by beach clubs, each with its distinctive color. Each club's section contains rows and rows of precisely arranged chairs and umbrellas, anchored by a stablimento providing changing rooms and showers, refreshments, and sometimes even full restaurants. Families, with … Continue reading 80. Teen Beach
Gigi's Italia 