An Italian-American Writer & Poet with a Yankee Outsider Perspective
There were none of the above in our childhood zoo–Hampton Park, Charleston, South Carolina. Well, maybe a medium-sized brown bear in a tiny cage, sitting like a teddy bear as we stared at his doglike snout. But in our peninsular … Continued
Puccini’s La Boheme is the quintessential Italian love story. Yes, I know, there’s always Verdi’s La Traviata with Violetta (reformed high-class prostitute) dying of TB at the end. She’s left her middle-class lover at the instigation of his father–to “save” … Continued
Dear Readers, to leave a comment, type in the box, then scroll down to “Comment as:” If you have signed into your own Google.doc account, your name will probably be there, but if not, if you’ve arrived from outside the … Continued
It was supposed to be natural. I’d gone with my husband to childbirth education classes, learning to pant for relieving pains. The pregnancy was uneventful–I was twenty-eight years old and in good health, I walked to classes, ate well, gained … Continued
Living in modern cities with street lights dimming the dark, we settle into a comfortable amnesia. This is all there is: kilowatts and miles per hour. Each day fractured into little bits. Nerves, heart, even our prose growing ever speedier. … Continued
When my sister and I received our allowances as kids, each week’s outlay probably amounted to a quarter. In that distant era, when a loaf of sliced bread cost a nickle, and a bottle of milk not much more, a … Continued
When we were kids in Charleston, South Carolina during the 1950s, we’d play “London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down; London bridge is falling down, my fair lady.” Then on the “my fair lady,” the four clasped and … Continued
Growing up in Charleston, South Carolina, we built huge drip castles with moats and added draw bridges of shells. On the edge of the foamy tide, we raced and felt the ridges in the sand with our bare feet. Our … Continued
When my grandfather, Giovanni Battista Fortunato, entered the United States in 1900, he probably came through Ellis Island in New York. I imagine he spoke enough English to insist that the official inscribe his correct name on the ledger. Also, … Continued