Swami or Salami
I think my dad is an Italian swami (that's swami, not salami...although lately I've been eating a lot of salami). I've come to this conclusion after living with him for the last 2 months (the spouse and I are in the middle of moving... so we made a temporary lay-over at my dad's).Here's the deal:
Every night...without fail... after dinner (dinner time is flagged by the sound of "Bad boys...bad boys ... watcha gonna do...watcha gonna do when they come for you..." filtering through the family room), he goes outside and, well, stares...at his garden. I think he is pondering the meaning of life... the truth behind the Great Pyramids of Egypt and who shot JFK... the real location of Jimmy Hoffa...and the secrets to growing healthy tomatoes and zucchini.
My husband and I stare at him staring at his garden ... perhaps someone stares at us staring at him staring at his garden. It's very intriguing. What is he thinking about?
What's funny is that, if you look up and down the backyards on his street, you see the other Italians doing the same...staring at their gardens. I'm reminded of a song: "The Freaks Come Out At Night" as a herd of Italians roams the backyards.
Somehow, they are in harmony with nature...staring as one large Italian entity. Perhaps they talk Vegetable-ese... perhaps that's why my dad's zucchinis are huge (no Freudian comments, please)... and you should see the size of his cornstalks! Damn can that man grow some ears!
I sometimes hear them humming the Tarentella softly or singing songs such as "Arrivaderci, Roma", "That's Amore", "Me So Horny". They are truly connected.
And then...just as suddenly as it began...it stops. They all migrate back to their houses, perhaps for one more bowl of pasta or one more glass of vino...the connection breaks... and my dad yells out to me, "JoAHNNE! Whaddayagotdatssweet!" Apple pie and ice cream time.
posted by Joanne @ 9:54 AM
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