I have been thinking about a section in the book "Eat, Pray, Love," where the author writes about the invisible lattice work, formed by your family ties, that places you in the universe...clearly paraphrased early in the morning BC (before coffee).(An aside for Ted....see how the underlined title of the book above is a different color? Click on it and it will take you to the link....voila : )
(As another aside, I almost didn't get past page 100. My sister and I have attempted to initiate a rule to combat our drive to finish even the most hideous of books.....to combat the old "finish what you started" adage. The first of three distinct sections is about the author's journey to Italy. Ironically, I didn't find it very interesting. Anyway, I finished this section- which put me close to the 100 page mark, and I remained uninterested. I almost quit. Then I reasoned that the other sections must be completely different- in India and Indonesia, so I persisted. I am glad I did.)
The following conversation was entirely in Italian....I probably don't need to keep reminding you about the language barrier, but lest you forget, I remind.
Last week when I picked up H, one of her teachers approached me and asked me my last name.
"Smith," I answered simply.
She smiled, and said, "No, YOU'RE last name."
I smiled and said, "Smith."
She pointed to H and said, "Like H?"
"Si," I reassured her.
Puzzled, she handed me a piece of paper, "Please write your last name here...in really big letters."
I took the paper and wrote S-M-I-T-H, in really big letters.
She smiled again, and motioned for another teacher to join in the fun. The second teacher joined us, and with an air of authority, in broken english, asked me, "What is your last name?"
I told her.
Then the first teacher started tapping me on the collar bone for emphasis as she asked, "What is YOUR last name."
Okay, well, clearly we were at an impasse. I asked HER..."you are Leaha what?" and she told me. I then said, I am C Smith, and I pointed to myself, tapping my own collarbone, which was getting a little sore by now. I flipped over the piece of paper and wrote....C Smith + My Man Smith (like a child's Valentine's Day card), then I drew a line to H Smith and Z Smith and then I added mio cane to the list, Fonzie Smith.
Ahhh, they said together- "you are all the same name."
Just then I remembered something I learned in Italian class. When the women marry, they do not take their husband's name- they keep their maiden name. The children have the husband's name. That's how they keep their place in the social lattice here in Italy.
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Love, Mimi