CASTELLO

From the time I retired in January 1996 through the summer of 2006, we lived in a castle.  Well, it wasn’t really  a castle.  It was the Villa Scola-Camerini in the hills above the Vicenza suburb of Creazzo, but everybody who knew it called it the Castello.  We rented one of six apartments there, one formerly rented for many years by our late friend and American Elementary School teacher Winnie Wilcke.  The apartment had been open since Winnie’s death a few years before, and my wife, Barbara, thought renting it might be a nice way to begin our retirement. 

So, we asked one of the other Castello residents, our good friend Fred Benanti, to talk to the owner of the Castello, the Baronessa Diamantina Scola-Camerini, about renting.  Fred and his wife, Eleanor, both retired American Elementary School teachers as well, had been renting and living in the major apartment of the Castello for about  thirty years; so his good word about us was good enough for the Baronessa, and we began a marvelous ten years as one set of a host of Castellani.

We didn’t spend the entire year in this apartment because it was too cold and difficult to heat in the coldest winter months.  We were there, usually, from April through late October, depending on the weather, and then moved back to the house we owned in the Vicenza suburb called Cresole. 

Our two-floor, two-and-a-half bedroom apartment was in the Castello’s lower section, with a pleasantly cool portico just out our front door, and a grand amphitheater-like garden (sometimes we called it the arena) just below the driveway and wall across from the portico.  The apartment’s bedrooms were all upstairs, while the downstairs consisted of a kitchen with cabinetry made by Fred Benanti, an old stone sink, and a table and six chairs; a living room with a fireplace; and a dining room that we used as an office because we ate most of our meals in the kitchen or at one of two tables under the portico.  There always seemed to be a nice, cool breeze flowing through the apartment and stone floors upstairs and down added to that coolness (great in the hot summer months, but impossible to heat in the winter).

The other part of the Castello grounds was an open park on two levels with a wall dividing the upper level from the lower.  From the upper level you could look  down into Creazzo and parts of Vicenza and across  the valley to the city’s famous Berico Hills.  The park fronted the Benantis’ grand, castle-like apartment and the middle section of the Castello, which contained two more good-sized apartments and a third, small, unoccupied one.  All these apartments were on another level above the park – the Benanti part including a side rose garden and the middle section fronted by a great terrace.  The view to Vicenza and the Berico hills was even more spectacular from that level.

The sixth Castello apartment was next to ours on the lowest level and was occupied by the Castello’s Italians: Paolo Bazzi, his wife, Giovanna, and three of their five sons: Stefano, Gabriele, and Marcello.  They lived there year-round, Paolo, an excellent gardener, making sure our end of the Castello grounds was kept in beautiful condition (Fred Benanti gardened the other half) and Giovanna making sure we all learned to enjoy great Italian cooking.  She and Barbara became fast friends.

That was the real magic of the castle.  We became fast friends with a great group of people who stayed there, on and off, throughout the year, enjoying their company for birthday, anniversary, and other celebrations, such as the Benantis’ annual “Wine and Roses” party in their rose garden, and just on a daily basis when there were enough of us there to constitute a party quorum (meaning no less than three of us).

Here are the major players in the cast of Castellani while we lived there:

·        The Benantis, the keepers of Castello tradition, including the massive library left in their apartment by the Scola-Camerini family.

·        Fred & Eleanor’s good friend, Richie Ambrosoli from New York, who rented the mid-section’s lower apartment July through December each year (although he only stayed through early November);

·         Winnie Wilcke’s sister, Edna, and her husband Bernie Ford from Chicago, who rented the same apartment  January through June (but usually only stayed there for a month or so in late April and mid-May, often bringing some of their grown children and their families with them);

·        Larry Hunter, a Vicenza American High School math teacher, renting the mid-section’s upper apartment for our first year in the castle until he moved to Germany (but returned with his wife Neva for frequent visits);

·        My brother, Tom, and sister-in-law, Carol, who took over that upper apartment from Larry and entertained lots of friends and family when they were there (but they, too, could stay only for a month or two at a time before returning to Canada or Florida);

·        Dr. Ron Lorenzini and his wife, Donna, from Chicago, who’d spent Ron’s U.S. Army years in the 1960s at the Vicenza Army Hospital, and worked out a deal to share the cost of renting that apartment, staying there with their grown daughters and their families at times when Tom & Carol were in Canada or Florida.  

·        Frank & Pam Delnero, who usually stayed with Richie in the lower middle apartment , which Pam’s parents rented many years earlier, when her father was an Air Force Colonel stationed in Vicenza in and Pam was a student at Vicenza American High School.

·        The Baronessa Scola-Camerini, a charming and gracious landlady, who came to visit about once a year (and who invited us to visit and stay a couple of days at her other estate in Tuscany).

·        The Bazzis and the Mullens.

Are you thoroughly confused yet?  The cast was frequently expanded by visiting family and friends, including, but not limited to, the following:  

·       Our son, Patrick, daughter-in-law, Gillian, and grandson, Joey from (at that time) Qatar for Joey’s baptism in Creazzo’s  St. Ulderico church; 

·       My other brother, Bob, and sister-in-law, Marian from Tampa;  

·       Barbara’s sister, Maria, and her daughter, Gabi from Nuernberg; 

·       Our best German friends, Alf & Katrin Warnick from Nuernberg, Hanni & Gerd Schmucker from Bonn, Gisela Haas and her daughter, Uta, from Nuernberg, Erika Rumour, a former Vicenza resident now living in Frankfurt, and Friedhilde Dietrich, also living in Frankfurt, who lived with us as an au pair in our first Vicenza house.

·       Our good American friends, Frank & Barbara Michanowicz from Nashville, Trecia Buster from Virginia; Bill & Dotty Read from Atlanta; Tim & Patricia Ryan from Idaho and Switzerland; and Jim & LuAnn Holmes from Tampa. 

Each one of the permanent Castellani had a list of visitors about the same size as ours.  So, there was always something special going on, as if living in a castle wasn’t special enough.

And then, there were friends who lived elsewhere in Vicenza, but often joined us in our partying.  I’m probably forgetting someone, but the list should include: 

·        Our son , Marty and daughter-in-law Giovanna, and David, born in 2003, who first showed his ball-kicking ability at the Castello.  

·        Joe & Mary Pellerito; 

·        Sy & Odetta Hakim, he a retired English teacher from VAHS and she a retired elementary school librarian; 

·        Retired American school teacher Carl Hacker and his still-teaching wife, Nancy; 

·        Another elementary school teacher, Margarita Flaherty and her husband, Coley; 

·        Elementary school teacher Fran Marshall and her husband, Tom, a classic pianist.

Those are just the Americans.  Other Vicentini friends included: 

·        Pino & Anna Faedo and their daughter, Alessandra, and her husband, ‘Renzo;

·        Antonia Reggio, a retired physical education teacher from the Italian school system;

·        Pici Salviati, who taught Italian at the American Elementary School and her husband, Giuseppe; 

·        Our Cresole neighbors, Orlando & Luciana Trentin;

·        Elfie DiTore, an Austro-American friend for many years,  also a Cresole neighbor;

·        Karol Stefani, a long-time German-Italian friend and the ex-wife of a well-known Italian politician; 

·        Bruno & Frieda Rizzotti, he a master artisan who worked at the Vicenza military airfield until he retired, she an Austro-Italian who planned concert tours of Italy for musical groups from the U.S., England,  and elsewhere;

·         Frieda’s sister, Tillie, who bounced from Vienna to Vicenza to an Adriatic Sea resort, wherever she found the best party.                

My apologies to anyone I’ve left off these lists of friends.  Apologies, also, to those of you who’ve been forced to read through this list, even though you don’t know anyone on it.  (But, then, why are you reading any of this at all?)  Now, we can get to some of the stuff I wrote while we were Castellani.

I’ll begin with a letter I wrote to Fred & Eleanor one summer while they were in the U.S. for Ellie’s cataract surgery.   So you know what I’m talking about, “Stella” was the Bazzis’ dog who made the rounds of the castle apartments every day to get her cookie ration and a “Green Flag Cake” was the name Richie dreamed up for sweets he baked without cholesterol-enhancing ingredients (and, something no one ever told him, without much taste).   I think I dreamed up the Albanian thing because some refugees from their troubled times in the early 2000s had begun coming to Vicenza.  “Dear Fred,” I wrote…

It might be a good idea to have Eleanor read this note to you –

with her new eyes – since her natural serenity will help to lessen the

possibility of spoiling your birthday.  We certainly wish you all the best

on your big day and wish you were here, so we could help you celebrate.

Also, if you were here, maybe “it” wouldn’t have happened.

            Don’t worry, however, the red tractor-mower should be repaired

by the time you return to the castle.  Not sure about the castle “arena”

steps, down which Richie drove the red tractor-mower; they may take a

little longer to repair.  Not sure about Richie, either; the doctors say he

might not be worth repairing.

            Paolo, of course, is glad that Richie’s little accident came at a time

when he and the boys didn’t have any cars parked at the top of the stairs.

It happened just as a small cloud passed over Creazzo; so all the Bazzi cars,

motorbikes, bicycles, and roller-skates were parked beneath the portico.  I

told Richie he should park the red tractor-mower there, too; but he said

“just one more lap” and then he’d park it.  By then, it was too late.

            I’m sure you’ll be happy to know Richie was leading the race when

his machine took off down the stairs.  What “race”, you ask?  Uh…well…

we just wanted to see if the red tractor-mower was faster than the go-cart

mower.  It is.  Especially going down stairs.  And the go-cart mower doesn’t

make nearly as much noise when it crashes.

            No other big news from here, but I guess you’d be interested to

know the Albanian refugees finally arrived.  They’re no bother, except for

all the noise when they’re cutting down the trees (but, of course, Paolo’s

happy about that).  Then, too, they’re always asking us to help them start

the fire in your living room.  Whatever they’re cooking there smells pretty

good, though.  And we’ve noticed that the neighborhood dogs finally

stopped barking at them.  In fact, we’ve also noticed that there are fewer

dogs in the neighborhood (and Stella doesn’t to come around begging

cookies anymore).

            That’s it for now.  Just wanted to let you know we’re thinking of

you on your birthday.  We’ll be celebrating it over here with a Green Flag

Cake (if Richie’s out of the hospital in time to bake it) and a bottle of

Prosecco (our last one, since we broke all the others when we dragged the

red tractor-mower out of the taverna).  We were going to invite the

Hakims, too, but Odetta says she can’t eat dog the way the Albanians cook it.

            Eleanor Benanti had a favorite story from her elementary school teaching days about the time she took over a class and introduced herself to the students as Mrs. Benanti.  One of the students responded by saying, “We know who you are; you’re Mr. Benanti’s wife.”  “Oh,” Eleanor said, knowing it must be something about Fred’s reputation as a strict disciplinarian, “and what do you know about Mr. Benanti?”  The student looked her straight in the eye and said, “He killed a kid once.”

That’s always been my favorite story about Fred, and I seldom let pass the chance to mention it, in rhymes I wrote for him and in ones I wrote for Ellie, too.  It’s there near the end of this rhyme written for a birthday Eleanor celebrated not long after she underwent heart surery.

In praise of Lady Eleanor

We take the task of tellin’ more

Than we can write in simple, little rhymes.

When doctors took her all apart

           They must have found that she’s all heart.

           Don’t know how they could bypass it three times.

We find this lady in her castle,

Ignoring this life’s growing hassle

By working in a garden, tending roses.

Midst crumbling wall and fallen statue,

She’s so serene and peaceful that you

Think you’re seeing one of Rodin’s poses.

And, with all this, another feature:

Our Eleanor’s a master teacher

From whom we learn to turn wrongs into rights.

She taught us, with the good she did

For that guy who once killed a kid,

How kindness can be taken to new heights.

The kid Fred supposedly killed once (Can you kill a kid twice?) played a prominent role in this set of limericks I wrote for his retirement party.  I entitled it “Adieu to Fred” (or “Much Ado about Freddie”).

A teacher we know, name of Fred,

Is about to retire, so it’s said.

He’s quitting the hassle

To spend time in his castle

And a few extra hours in his bed.

His life’s work in the tough teaching game

Brought Fred at least one claim to fame:

He killed a kid once.

Hey!  The kid was a dunce,

So Fred really wasn’t to blame.

But that’s not all Fred did with his life.

He did more than survive classroom strife.

He was quite a photographer

And a good videographer,

And he married a wonderful wife.

Fred and Ellie would frequently host

Lavish parties for Vicenza’s whole Post:

“The Christmas Tree Thing”;

“Wine and Roses” in spring.

They were this town’s ultimate “Toast”.

Of course, Fred accomplished much more,

Too much to keep up with his score.

What made Fred so “cool”

Was his work at school.

Now, he’s going to walk out that door.

We know Fred’s not totally thrilled

To be starting the life he’s been willed.

We can just hear him preach,

“There’s still so much to teach.

Still lots of kids to be killed.”

But, after so many years spent in class,

With students sometimes crude and crass,

Fred can now spend his time

(Please, forgive me this rhyme)

Just sitting down on his…….lawn mower.

So, dear Fred, and dear Eleanor, too,

This is our special party for you.

Though we’ll see you again,

And again…and again,

We still bid our fondest adieu.

Fred spent a lot of his retirement time maintaining the Castello grounds with his lawn mowers and other gardening tools.  Another of his major projects was repairing the crumbling wall just below the castle rose garden.  He worked so hard on that one year that I couldn’t help writing this rhyme for him and saluting him as one of Italy’s great stone masons:

“Steady Freddy” worked and worked on that wall

Cementing-in stones from spring until fall.

Working with patience, so he wouldn’t be sorry,

He established his place among the great muratori.

The work was well done, and it wasn’t diminished

By the fact that he knew it would never be finished.

All the King’s horses and all the King’s men   

Won’t really be needed around here again.

It’s Fred’s castle job now, and we know he’ll be here

To keep that wall standing year after year.

Fred, it seems, occupied a lot of my rhyme time with his birthdays.  I’ll just label the following three with the years they recognized and Fred’s age.

            2002-77

How good is this guy we call Fred?

‘Bout as good as they get, it’s been said.

Though we know he ain’t

A legitimate saint,

That’s only because he ain’t dead.

And let’s hope that he stays that way.

That is, we hope that he’ll stay

Alive and healthy

And what used to be wealthy

At least for another birthday.

After that, ol’ Fred’s on his own.

Though we hate to leave him alone,

He’s just wearing us down

With his running around

To get rid of that last kidney stone.

And were just a little annoyed

That he’s done all he can to avoid

A doctor of note

Who’d cut Freddy’s throat

And take care of his para-thyroid.

Still, Fred is our hero, you know,

The one who keeps running our show.

His motor’s still revvin’

At seventy-seven

With plenty more birthdays to go.

            2003 -  78

Our dear friend Fred is seventy-eight.

And so, we come to celebrate

The fact that he is still alive,

Despite his fear he wouldn’t survive

The terrors of these modern days,

Like Rock ‘n’ Roll and married Gays

And warding off Soggiorno fines

By standing in Questura lines.

Yes, Fred’s now one of the Anziani,

Looking for discounts to save money;

So he can finally reach the stage

Where he feels secure in his old age.

That’s why we sort of hesitate

To remind dear Fred he’s seventy-eight.

            2005 – 80

They said to write something for Freddy,

But I thought he might not be ready.

Why don’t we wait

‘Til he’s eighty-eight

And we’re sure his heartbeat is steady.

But, no, they insisted this rhyme

Mark the end of a most special time,

Before all the hassle

Of leaving the castle

While Freddy is still in his prime.

So, Fred, we make hullabaloo,

Even though everyone one of us knew

That, sooner or latey,

You’d make it to eighty,

And we’d sing happy birthday to you.

We all moved out of the Castello the following summer, when the Baronessa sold it to a family of notaries (a line of work which seems to turn out some of the richest people in Italy).  We returned there one last time in the summer of 2007, when Diamantina saw to it that we were invited to the party inaugurating the new owners’ completion of most of the castle restoration.  We were very impressed with how beautifully they had restored it while maintaining all the things that we loved about the Castello.

I’m not done with my castle rhymes, however; there are still several I’d like to include here about some of the other persons and personalities who shared time with us at the Villa Scola-Camerini.  We’ll start with a short birthday rhyme I wrote one July for Bernie Ford and sent to him in Chicago.  Bernie, a great athlete – basketball player, golfer – even in his sixties, got these lines from us:

Happy Birthday and best wishes to Bernie

As he nears his next mark in life’s journey.

He should get an award

From the Family Ford

For being top-seed in their tourney.

For many years, back in the 1970s, our best friends here in Italy were Frank and Barbara Michanowicz.  Frank was the principal of the Vicenza American Elementary School and our two Barbaras became friends working as Girl Scout Leaders and then as the tour guides for the Officers’ Wives Club.  The two families were  very close: our sons, Marty & Patrick, spent so much time at the Michanowiczes’ home that they called Frank’s Barbara their second mother and they were like brothers to the Michanowicz children, Dawn, Mark, and Denise.

Frank was transferred to the American School in Livorno eventually; but we still remained close friends and visited them, and they us, during the years they lived in Marina di Pisa.  And we stayed in regular touch with them when Frank retired and they moved to Nashville, visiting one another in the U.S. and here in Italy every few years. 

Naturally, we exchanged birthday, anniversary, and holiday greetings through the mail, Frank & Barbara making two of those occasions easily recognized because they came on the same day: Frank’s birthday and their wedding anniversary.  I wrote them the following “annibirthsary” rhyme for their Golden Wedding Anniversary and Frank’s 80^th birthday.  Frank & Barbara celebrated the way they celebrate just about everything except Christmas: by going on a cruise.

To make your marriage last fifty

You have to be sort of shifty.

And to live to be eighty

Is exceedingly weighty.

To do both on the same day, that’s nifty.

We wish we could be on that boat,

While you’re keeping your love life afloat.

We’re with you in spirit.

Just listen; you’ll hear it

When we send you our love by remote.

Another set of good friends, Sy and Odetta Hakim, also made it into our lives through the Vicenza American Schools.  Sy taught English to both Patrick and Marty when they attended Vicenza High, and Odetta was a school librarian.  After their retirement and eventual move to Philadelphia, we kept in touch with them through letters and saw them once a year for several months when they returned to Vicenza to a house they still own here. 

They still come back every year, but for a shorter stay – about three months from February to May – than was the case when I wrote this rhyme for Odetta’s July birthday.  They were just winding up a Vicenza visit of several months and we were celebrating Odetta’s birthday early because they’d be gone by the time it came.  As always, their departure left a hole in our social lives, ending the frequent dinners at their house where many of the Castellani delighted in Odetta’s great cooking and her less than nuanced opinions about life and how it should be lived, especially once you have a heart bypass operation.

How old is Odetta today?

The same as she was yesterday

‘Cause, despite this dumb rhyme,

She’s still got some time

‘Til she actually has her birthday.

Then, why are we marking this day?

‘Cause Odetta’s going away.

She and ol’ Sy

Are going to fly

Back to Philadel-fee-aye-ay.

                                   

            How old is Odetta today?

            Ain’t nobody here gonna say,

            ‘Cause, despite the bypass,

            She can still kick some ass

            Whenever she’s rubbed the wrong way.

            Then…uh…how young is Odetta today?

            That’s pretty easy to say.

            The way that she looks

            And the way that she cooks,

            She’s as young as she wants to stay.

            Elfie DiTore lives just a block away from us in the Vicenza suburb of Cresole; so we became good friends even before our Castellani days.  Elfie is sort of the original “Little Old Lady in Tennis Shoes”, except that her shoes are whatever is in fashion at the time and the emphasis is more on the “Lady” part of that than on the “little” and “old”.  Elfie’s no “spring chicken”, of course, but she still has a lot of spring in her step and in her mind.

I have to find a flaw in everybody’s character (to make their character match mine); so, I pick on Elfie’s habit of driving cautiously.  You’ll notice that theme in this   birthday rhyme; but, don’t worry, Elfie just laughed when she heard the slow-driving bit (for about the lebenty-seventh time).

On her birthday, here’s Elfie in her slick Mini-Cooper.

She’s the car-driving version of a real party-pooper.

She’s the slow-moving driver whom everyone fears

In a car that, for her, has too many gears.

If the speed limit’s fifty, she drives forty-nine

And keeps those behind her from arriving on time.

However, we’re hoping in the future she’ll master

The Italian art of driving much faster.

She has plenty of time to learn that, you see,

‘Cause this birthday Dear Elfie is just eighty-three.

Another good friend from pre-castle days, Frieda Rizzotti, is, in my estimation, the greatest party-giver we’ve ever known.  Maybe I should say the greatest party decorator, although limiting her ability to decoration ignores her planning and cooking abilities.  Suffice it to say, I’ve never seen any place like Frieda’s when it comes to party time. 

Halloween party?  The whole house, inside and out, is decorated in orange and black, with skeletons and ghosts haunting the outside and jack-o-lanterns throughout the inside.  Orange and black pillows on the sofas.  Orange and black napkins on the table next to orange and black dishes.  Oh, and in the backyard:  an open grave with a pillow-stuffed zombie sitting in an orange chair next to a black table. 

Frieda dresses in the appropriate colors, too.  That’s why, at a recent Easter luncheon where almost everything was in shades of violet, I complimented Frieda on the color scheme, but pointed out that she forgot to paint her dog violet.

Obviously, Frieda loves to entertain.  So, I was surprised when she said she was looking for some place to take all of us – a restaurant – for her 70^th birthday celebration.  She changed her mind, of course, and treated us to lunch at her house, as usual (What color do you wear when you’re 70?); but the original restaurant idea caused me to write her this rhyme.

We just can’t stop counting on Frieda

To set up a table and feed a

Big gang for Earth Day

Or her very own birthday.

She’s always there when we need her.

Now, completing her seventieth year,

Frieda’s warning of our greatest fear:

That she’ll finally say “Basta”

To the vino and pasta,

And send us for pizza and beer.

Our dearest friends in Germany are Alf and Katrin Warnick, the Best Man and Matron of Honor at our 1964 civil wedding in Nuernberg.  When we moved to Italy later that year, we  had hoped to continue the friendship with regular get-togethers in Germany and here, and that was the case in our early years in Italy.  But many years ago Katrin contracted Lyme disease – the debilitating illness caused by a deer tick – and the Warnicks’ ability to travel great distances was slowly limited.  Katrin is wheelchair-bound now, so they are unable to come to Italy and we see her and Alf only when we go to Germany, not more than once a year.

We still remember their visit to us at the Castello and how much fun we had spending that time together. Our times together are always fun, despite Katrin’s condition, because she and Alf ignore the problem and focus on the moment of close friendship and we follow their lead.  Still, we couldn’t be together for Katrin’s 80^th birthday in February 2012; so Barbara came up with the idea of sending her a package of eighty baci, the Italian chocolate “kisses”, and I added this rhyme to the package.

A salute to our dear friend, Katrin,

Who reigns in our hearts like a queen.

With these eighty “kisses”

We send our best wishes

That your birthday’s both sweet and serene.

Gisela Haas and her daughter, Uta, have become good friends since we met them during a visit to Barbara’s sister, Maria, in the Nuernberg suburb of Heroldsberg.

Gisela then lived only about a block away from Maria and was in the habit of traveling to Italy every summer for a vacation in Tuscany.  At first, she stopped by our Vicenza home on the way to and from Tuscany; but, when we moved to our castle apartment, she spent more time with us there and Uta joined her on occasion.  Of course, we also saw each other during our annual visits with Maria in Heroldsberg.

            Uta lived and worked in Ireland for several years, so she spoke perfect English (with an Irish brogue) and we developed a sort of daughter-father friendship over a few, regular shots of Irish whiskey.  She was living in Ireland when I wrote this next rhyme for Gisela (fittingly, a limerick) after she’d retired and went to Uta to celebrate her September birthday.

            There once was a lady named Haas,

            Who found work was a case of the “blahs”.

            So, she just stopped carin’

            And ran off to Erin,

            While her friends shouted many hurrahs.

            Now, in Dublin, there’s a great celebration

            For Gisela’s emancipation.

            And –Isn’t it swell? –

            It’s her birthday as well,

            A great time for rejuvenation.

            It seems there should be a whole bunch of rhymes for the other Castellani, friends, and family I listed above.  I’m sure there are, but I just don’t have copies of them.  If you’re reading this and you have a rhyme I wrote for you, but didn’t include  here, feel free to send me a copy and I’ll include it in this blog’s Castello Chronicles (if I think it’s one of my good rhymes, meaning most of them).  But, for now, that’ll be it for the Castello and the Castellani.  We miss you.