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.

COUGAR GIRLS

            I was a Department of the Army civilian employee from 1964 until my retirement in 1996.  I worked at Southern European Broadcasting (originally the Southern European Network), the Armed Forces Radio and Television Service network for the American military audience in Italy, which was eventually absorbed by the American Forces Network Europe. 

As a broadcaster, I was for many years an observer and reporter of American Schools in Italy sports.  As a longtime friend of Joe Pellerito, I watched his daughters, Becky and Jenny, play basketball for the Vicenza American High School Cougars.  In Jenny’s junior season, as Joe and I watched the Cougars lose a game we both thought they should have won, Joe asked me, “If I can get the job of coaching girls basketball, will you join me?”  I surprised myself by answering yes without any hesitation. 

The very next season, 1980-81,  surprised again, there I was helping Joe coach the Cougars (not the “Lady” Cougars, by the way; we insisted on being the Cougars just like the boys’ team, unless they were to be called the “Gentlemen” Cougars). 

As only Joe could do, he insisted on me being called the team’s coach, not the assistant coach and not the co-coach.  That led to several funny exchanges between Joe and league officials who, when asking who was the coach of our team, heard Joe respond by pointing to himself and me and saying, “We are.” 

And we were.  I recall any number of games when Joe and I alternated making decisions about strategy or substitutions or questioning a referee’s call, etc.  And I laugh out loud every time I remember the game in which I was baiting a referee who was making too many calls against us.  He ran by our bench and yelled at Joe, “Tell your assistant to sit down, Coach,” and Joe yelled back, “He’s not my assistant; he’s the coach.”  Later, after the game, that referee approached Joe and said, “I thought you were the coach, but you’re just the school sponsor and Mullen’s the coach?”  And Joe introduced him to a sort of Abbot & Costello “Who’s on First” routine by saying, “No, I’m the coach.”  “Then,” responded the referee, “Mullen’s your assistant coach.”  “No,” said Joe, “he’s the coach.”  And the referee just walked away, shaking his head.  

Well, whatever I was, Joe and I coached the 1980-81 Cougars to their first American Schools in Italy League championship in Jenny’s senior season (and Jenny did a lot of coaching herself on the floor as the leader of that team).  We coached through the 2003-04 season and, in those twenty-four years, our teams won six more ASIL championships, were runners-up in four other post-season tournaments, won several ASIL North Conference regular-season titles, and finished third in one of the early American Schools in Europe championship tournaments held in Germany.

            After Joe’s death in August 2004, I was approached by a member of the Vicenza American School’s Booster Club considering establishment of college annual scholarships in his name for the top girl and boy athletes at VAHS.  The Boosters were asking me to help them determine criteria for these scholarships.  Here’s what I wrote:

                       

Joe Pellerito and our players taught me a great deal about the role of sports in education.  So, I think I know what criteria Joe would use to determine the winners of  scholarships in his name.  I detail some of those criteria here, but the list is not exhaustive; Joe’s coaching/teaching principles were far too extensive and complex to be summed up in one page.  I’ve just tried to highlight the basics.

Joe Pellerito believed that sports are an integral part of the high school

education process – part of the curriculum, not just an extra-curricular activity.  A Pellerito Scholarship winner would demonstrate understanding of that belief by:

--Regular, on-time attendance at practices and all team functions.

--Faithful attention to and performance of coaching instructions, including rules of behavior.

--Fulfillment of the student’s athletic potential through recognition from coaches, players, and officials of VAHS and other schools; e.g., All-Conference, All-Tournament, All-Europe, Most Valuable Player, Athlete of the Year, etc.

Joe taught his players leadership, selecting team captains who he thought

would be sources of psychological strength for the team both on and off the court.  Pellerito Scholarship winners would demonstrate those qualities by:

--Helping teammates realize their potential as athletes and as human beings.

--Accepting responsibility for team failures.

--Sharing with teammates the accolades for team successes.

Joe believed religiously in the tenets of fair play and good sportsmanship.

Pellerito Scholarship winners would demonstrate the same belief by:

--Gracious recognition of opponents’ accomplishments.

--Playing by the rules at all times; never bending them to their own advantage.

--Never gloating in victory; never whining in defeat.

I haven’t set down any academic criteria because Joe and I always found that the athletes who met most of the above criteria were excellent students as well.

The highlight of every basketball season for Joe and me was the post-season banquet for Vicenza High’s winter sports, basketball and wrestling.  Every year we put on a show of rhymes or songs or both about each girl’s foibles during the season (and the coaches’ foibles, too).  And, of course, we tried to outdo one another during the “Joe & Mike Show”.  No matter how good or bad our team record – championship or sixth place – we tried to leave ‘em laughing, and most of the time I think we succeeded.

Our first post-season banquet, however, was not sponsored by the school; I think they didn’t start or resume having banquets until somebody recommended it after they heard what we did for the 1980-81 ASIL Girls Basketball Champions.  We staged a little party in our house, Barbara and Mary providing the drinks and snacks, while Joe and I roasted each of the girls with “You Turkey” awards.  The only one I still have among my Cougar memorabilia is the one Joe gave to me, but it demonstrates perfectly what we tried to do in our writing about the girls.  My “You Turkey” read:

                                   

Awarded this 4^th day of March 1981 to  Mike “The True Turkey” Mullen.  In recognition of his daring design of plays one particular player couldn’t understand…and the rest of the team wanted to forget.  To their everlasting credit, the team listened

politely to his instructions…and won the championship inspite of them.

            The next post-season we were at a school-sponsored banquet with team members’ parents in attendance.  Still, Joe and I spared no one’s feelings – well, maybe we were a little softer this time -- with our roast.  We had members of another team  and their parents to be concerned about, too, because our team finished second in the ASIL Girls Tournament , while the boys’ team lost every game that year.  I tried to introduce that “softer” approach this way:

           

                        I think it was a great idea to have this get-together tonight, so that we can re-live the memories of the past season while they’re still fresh in our minds.  I know, some of the boys were hoping we’d just completely forget this past season and talk about soccer or something.  But, I’ll tell you, I don’t want to forget what for me – and for all the other coaches, I think – was the most important part of the season: sharing the time with one of the finest groups of young people – girls and boys – that any of us has ever been associated with.  You may not always have been successful as

basketball players; but, as good human beings, every one of you is a winner.

                        And that’s enough of the nice-guy stuff.  Those of you who were on the girls’ team last year know that I like to use this occasion to remind you of some of your…uh…less noteworthy accomplishments during the season.  Last year we called them the “Turkey” awards.  This year I’m calling them the GO-rilla awards.

                        I give credit for that idea to (Boys Basketball Coach) Mr. Dempsey, who told me earlier this evening that it wasn’t so bad going oh-and-14 with a great group of

human beings; but next year he’d sort of like to go 15-and-oh with a  bunch of gorillas.  Uh…That should be…GO-rillas.

                        So, anyway, the following awards to a team that went 13-and-2 this season, the Champions of the North, the Vicenza High School “Lady GO-rillas”.

            I won’t go through the whole set of Lady GO-rillas here; but I guess I should explain the use of the term “Lady”, since you know Joe and I were opposed to calling them the Lady Cougars.  I was simply poking fun at media types and their followers who think all girls’ or women’s teams must be identified as Lady Something-or-others to distinguish them from their schools’ boys’ or men’s teams.  As I said earlier, that  thinking should then require the boys’ or men’s teams to be called the Gentlemen Something-or-others.  I saw the ultimate stupidity of this in the American Schools in Europe Tournament on AFN-TV this year:  Bitburg High School calls its teams the Barons; so the girls’ team in the championship game wore uniforms calling themselves the “Lady Barons”.  Sorry, but there is no such thing as a Lady Baron; she’s the “Baroness”, so their uniforms should have read “Baronesses”.  I blame the coaches (most of whom are teachers) for teaching their students this uninformed lesson in incorrect English.

            Okay, I got that off my chest.  Now, back to the awards.  But I won’t bore you with all of them, just the ones I think were the best from this season.  I hope the girls don’t mind my using their names again;  most of them laughed about this stuff the first time around:

                        To Rosi Carrascosa: the GO-rilla-Don’t-Want-the-Basketball Award…for refusing to acknowledge the last syllable in the name of the game.  We enjoyed watching her play “Basket-thing”.

                        To Sue Cuddy: the GO-rilla-Don’t-Score Award…for eliminating the other two syllables  from the name of the game.  No baskets.  She played a great season of “Thing-ball”.

                        To Roxy Urner: The GO-rilla-to-the-Toilet Award…for leading the team in trips to the john…during timeouts.  For next season, Joe and I have devised a new way to give Roxy instructions during timeouts:  We’re going to write them on the bathroom wall.

            We skip a couple of years, now, to 1983-84, another championship season which earned the girls some of my famous limericks at the post-season banquet.  The rhymes I’ve picked, unusually, were mostly in praise of the players.

                                               

Patty’s teammates almost always out-stepped her

            But, in time, she got slightly adepter.

            I have to admit it

            It’s her last name that did it.

            Her last name is Keepers.  We kept her.

            A Reppond whom the players called “Frog”

            All too frequently played in a fog.

            But, then, often as not

            She’d get really hot.

            This “Frog” was no “bump on a log”.

            Kelly Barnett was our non-shooting guard,

            And she didn’t find that very hard.

            She preferred to play “D”,

            Using elbow and knee,

            And leaving our opponents all scarred.

           

The next two rhymes need some expanded explanation and story-telling.  Yvette Caver was the best player we ever had and maybe the best player ever in the history of American Schools Girls Basketball in Europe.  She was relatively small,  maybe 5-foot-3-or-4, but she could do it all -- shoot, dribble, pass, rebound, and play defense – better than any girl we ever saw.  In the 1984-85 season’s tournament championship game against Naples, she scored six points in 25-seconds to tie the score with five-seconds remaining (unfortunately, we fouled a Naples player in that time and they won the game on free throws).  Still, Yvette was the unanimous choice as the tournament’s Most Valuable Player and was later named the Player of the Year in Europe.

            Yvette exhibited her only “flaw” on road trips to other schools, when the girls slept in a classroom and Joe and I declared “lights out” at about 10:00 p.m.  Just as Joe reached for the light switch, Yvette would say, “Mr. Pellerito, I cannot sleep in no dark”; so we’d find a way to keep some sort of light shining in the room, usually by opening the curtains and letting outside lights shine in.  That story, then, explains part of what I wrote in her 1983-84 rhyme:

           

A story ‘bout Caver – a lark –

            And it’s one that we savor; so hark!

            You can bet ‘fore the night’s out

            Yvette’s shooting the lights out,

            Though she says she can’t sleep in no dark.

           

Celeste Richardson was the MVP of the 1984 ASIL Tournament because, with Yvette hitting her with passes from all angles, she was our leading scorer.  One of our few four-year players – most of them were with us for three years at the most because their American military families moved to new posts every three years – Celeste was a psychological project for Joe and me.  It was obvious to us in her freshman year that she had the talent to be a great player.  She was about 5-foot-7-or-8, had a great shooting touch, and smooth movements all over the court.  But Celeste was a “head hanger”,  getting down on herself whenever she didn’t  play the way she thought she should.  No confidence for almost three years.  But, in her senior year, she finally began believing she was as good as we’d always told her she was.  And, in that 1984 championship game, she sank some free throws under pressure down the stretch that kept us in the lead and eventually spelled victory.  That performance earned her this rhyme:

            For three years this girl named Celeste

            Thought she didn’t stand out from the rest.

            But, in this championship season,

            She displayed every reason

            Why she’s always been one of the best.

            We’ve already talked about the 1984-85 season, ending in disappointment after Yvette Caver seemed to have taken us to overtime in the tournament championship game.  My post-season banquet rhymes for the girls reflected that disappointment , and I don’t think any of them deserve publication here.  Maybe just one, about Joe and me, because I like the way I ended it.

For five years, now, it’s been Joe and me.

            Guess that makes this our fifth anniversary.

            Though I ain’t got no rhythm,

            I’m sure glad to be with him

            ‘Cause without him I’d have to pay for the beer myself.

            The 1989-90 season ended with another championship at the tournament in Naples.  I remember the final against the American International School of Milan.  Their team came on the floor for pre-game warmups chanting “No Mercy…No Mercy”, and our girls paid close attention to that, beating them easily, showing them no mercy.  Lots of good players on this team, but at the post-season banquet I switched back to “awards”, instead of rhymes, and the only two worth repeating here, I think are about our first pair of twin players, the Schmidt sisters.

            To Allison Schmidt: The “Don’t Call Me Heather” Award for not answering

to that name when she was clearly wearing Heather’s jersey.

            To Heather Schmidt: The “MVT Award” for being the “most volatile twin”

with a shot demonstrating “minimum vertical takeoff”.

            We won our fifth straight championship in 1990-91, our seventh and final ASIL title.  So, I was writing limericks again for the post-season banquet.  Here’s the beginning, middle, and end of the rhyme I called “The Best Team We Ever Had”:

           

There once was a championship team,

            Which was built on the two coaches’ scheme

            To combine speed and size

            And a few other guys

            For the makings of what was a dream.

                                   

Two reasons why we won it all

            Are the captains named Rogers and Hall.

            Dear Jacinta and Christy,

            Our eyes get real misty

            When we think of the way you played ball.

            Now, just two more names left to go:

            The coaches, who put on this show.

            With Joe pacing the floor,

            While I pounded the door,

            We won it, our fifth in a row.

And we proved that we weren’t just teasin’

            When we said we have every reason

            To believe you’re the best

            Among all the rest

            In our seventh championship season.

            The 1991-92 season provided me little inspiration for roasting the girls at the post-season banquet.  In fact, in my introductory remarks, I apologized to those who’d attended previous banquets and expected to hear my “traditional, insulting remarks” about our players.  “I tried to come up with some solid insults,” I said, “but my heart just wasn’t in it; this is just too nice a group of young ladies.”  I gave each girl a nickname for the season, but only two of them, I think, are worth repeating here.

Charlotte “Sure Shot” Hawkins:  She had the best outside shot on the team.  Unfortunately, all our games were played inside, so she didn’t get to shoot much.

Pam “Three-Point” Torio:  She led the team in shooting three-pointers.  She led the team in missing three-pointers.  She led the team in missing the point.  The point is, Pam, we still love you.                                          

            1992-93 wasn’t much better in terms of wins and losses and in terms of creative writing for the post-season banquet.  I gave out nicknames and awards this time; but, again, I think only three are worth repeating – the first two because they sort of play off one another, the other because it recognizes our jayvee team for the first time.

To Pam “The Galloper” Galapon:  The “No-Look Pass” Award.  She didn’t look because she couldn’t see after the coach stepped on her glasses.

To Stacie “The Miser” Bryza:  The “No-Pass Look” Award.  She looked and looked, until everybody knew where she was going to pass; so she had to shoot.

To Dawn “Daylight” Sims and Dianna “Banana” Fierro:  The “Coaches Of the Year” Award.  They showed true Cougar colors in coaching our jayvees to a perfect season.

            I wrote a “Cougar Rhyme” to commemorate the 1993-94 players and our not-very-exciting season.  I think I’ll just give you the final stanza.

           

            Yup, that was our team.  And that was our season.

            Sometimes we played it without rhyme or reason.

            But that’s not the reason I’ve written this rhyme;

            I wrote it because it was still a good time.

            We finished in sixth place at the 1995 ASIL Tournament, our worst showing ever, which naturally inspired one of my best efforts at the post-season banquet.  I wrote a Rap, pointing out to the players and their parents that, since it “may seem critical of the girls and since it’s being recited by an old, white guy, in at least two senses of the phrase, it’s a ‘bad rap’.”  Then, I asked our players to be the chorus in performing “The Sixth Place Rap”.        

Mike: We went to Sigonella on a very cool day,

            Flying Air Meridiana nearly all the way.

            We went down there just to have some fun,

            To see Mount Etna and to get some sun.

            We thought a good time would be had by all

            ‘Til somebody told us to play basketball.

Chorus:  Say what?  Say what?

Mike: They made us play ball, darn it all.

Mike: They said we were playin’ the home team first,

            And right off we knew our bubble would burst.

            Though we tried to shoot hoops and to have some fun,

            We ended up shootin’ six for eighty-one.

            And that kind of shootin’, on the basketball scene

            Gives the game to Sigonella, 17-14.

Chorus:  Say what?  Say What?

Mike:  If they don’t kick that field goal, you know what I mean?

Mike: Next up came Milan, and it got quite scary.

            When you play the Panthers you better be wary.

            The girls from Milan, those such and suches,

            Two Chinese guards and two others on crutches,

            They put us through hell, but we made it to heaven

            When we finally beat them, 30-27.

Chorus:  Say what?  Say what?

Mike: Yeah, we won a game and we were in heaven.

Mike: Now we played the Saints when we got to heaven,

            And we held Aviano down to 37.

            So you’d think the Saints were in a big fix

            ‘Cause the last time we played they got 66.

            Just one small problem with this time then:

            They got 37, but we only got ten.

Chorus:  Say what?  Say what?

Mike: Yeah, the league’s best team beat us again.

Mike: So we played for fifth ‘gainst them Marymount Royals,

            And the zebras fouled out four of our best “goils”.

            But the Cougars got hot and put on a show

            And we’re up by five with one quarter to go.

            Then, quick as a flash, we’re down by four.

            31-27 is the final score.

Chorus:  Say what?  Say what?

Mike: Yeah, we got 27, but we needed some more.

Mike: Now, we’re not the champs, y’understand;

            But somehow, you see, we’re still feelin’ grand.

            You know what I’m sayin’, we’re feelin’ glad

            ‘Cause we didn’t do anything bad.

            We had lots of fun, I’m tellin’ y’all,

            Except when they made us play basketball.

Chorus:  Say what?  Say what?

Mike: We didn’t want to play no ball at all.

Mike: But you know what, folks, this team of girls

            Is more than pretty faces and hair that curls.

            The only thing is: they don’t know it yet;

            They can dribble and shoot with the best, you bet.

            And I’m willin’ to bet, I’m makin’ the call:

            Next year these girls will be playin’ ball.

Chorus:  Say what?  Say what?

Mike: That’s right, Cougar Girls, you’ll play basketball.

            It seems as though the Cougars Girls did not play winning basketball in 1995-96 because I have no post-season banquet material to share with you.  My material jumps to the 1996-97 post-season banquet, where I was rapping again like this:

            We had a good season, all in all.

            We had some fun and we played some ball.

            Only bad thing:  We couldn’t shoot hoops.

            When we lay it up, we be sayin’ “Oops”.

            Say oops inside the head.    Say oops inside the head.

            Still we finished third in the ASIL Tournament, and that means we won our final game that season.  Joe and I wanted things to get better, however, as I indicated in the final stanza of “The ‘Mighty Cougar’ Rap”.

            The coaches were happy, but slightly sullen.

            And, come next season, Pellerito and Mullen

            Will not be happy and won’t have fun

            ‘Til the Mighty Cougars are Number One.

            Say hoops inside the head.    Say hoops inside the head.

            The next season wasn’t much different.  We came up short again, losing the 1997-98 ASIL Championship in the final game to Aviano.  Then, in our first European Championship Tournament appearance, we lost our opening game, but beat Aviano in the second round, and were eliminated in the third.  I was still inspired to write a rhyme entitled “The Nut-Kissers Sweet” for the post-season banquet.  The title was inspired by a poem one of our players, Candida Kilgore, wrote, in which she mentioned the girls’ pre-game superstition of kissing a nut.  It was a “buckeye”, the famous Ohio State symbol which, as we talked in the locker room before a game, would be passed from player to player, each of them kissing it in turn.  My banquet rhyme started with some highlights of the various basketball foibles of our team members; then I ended it this way:

                                   

There’s still hope that our shots are no longer misses.

            Perhaps, if we give the “buckeye” more kisses?

            Oh well, what’s it matter if the game-time runs out?

            What’s really important, what this rhyme’s all about,

            Is your coaches’ desire to repeat and repeat

            That what we’ll miss most is our nut-kissers sweet.

                                                                       

            My post-season banquet material now jumps all the way to 2002-03, the final season for Joe and me, which was shortened by cancellation of four games because of security concerns due to the war in Iraq.  Our team had great potential not completely realized because of minimal practice time – practice seldom attended by all eleven players.  Frequently, there were just nine girls; so, when we scrimmaged, I had to be the “tenth girl”.  This inspired me to become “The Cougar Eminem” and present my version of one of the famous rapper’s big hits.

            I introduced myself by saying, “In America, our best golfer is black and our best rapper is white.  But, in Cougarland, our players are black and gold (the team colors) and our rapper – tonight – is red.”  Then, I started to roast the players, ending each girl’s rhyme with the refrain that she couldn’t have done it “without me.”  I began changing that refrain in the following “raps”:

           

            Our beloved ERIKA

            Came from America.

            But you’d think her place

            Was in Outer Space

            When she brought that ball down around her knee,

            The cryin’ you heard was comin’ from me.

            The laughing BRITTANY

            The one who didn’t see

            The need to get serious.

            She was so delirious.

            When she started playin’ finally,

            She made me laugh deliriously.

            And here’s NAKIA.

            We’re glad to see a

            Good small forward

            Keep goin’ toward the bucket.

            But she sometimes did that recklessly,

            Sending bodies flyin’, including me.

            That leaves us ASHLEE,

            Our Captain Flash,

            She made games borin’.

            She was always scorin’.

            She sank that line-drive sporadically,

But she didn’t learn that shot from me.

            Now, I should mention MR. P.,

            The guy who made us who we be.

            He likes to sing

            And do his thing,

            Tell jokes to us

            While we ride the bus.

            And he likes to stir up controversy.

            So, I let him do that without me.                                              

            And that was that for Vicenza High School Girls’ Basketball and the post-season banquet rhymes.  Joe and I coached another year, 2003-04, but I don’t have anything to show for that season or a banquet.  I’m glad my last rhyme was about Joe, who died in August 2004.  He’s still with me, all the time, but especially every year in late February, when I think of him and get the urge to write something for “The Joe and Mike Show”.