True Blogging?

    I haven't been following the stream-of-consciousness method of blogging that seems to be popular among the younger set. But this week I decided to give it a whirl, mostly because my mind is in a whirl.

    I was up to my eyelobes in Eye-talians last weekend. We didn't have the usual suspects here, but there were representatives from both sides of Lenny's family, assorted friends, and my Irish sister. For the first time, I was the oldest one of our group, at least when my sister wasn't around, since I predate my husband by two months. We are virtually the same age, but that two months means a lot to him, the man of eternal youth.

    For the first time, all of the kids who came with us to the Italian Festival (our sons, girl cousins, and some of their friends) were old enough to sit with us in the wine garden while Lenny (the husband) Luzzi and Tom Falcone, better known as The Rigatones, serenaded all who cared to stop by for a glass of vino. It was so weird, yet so good to see my son Joe, who was attending Festa for the first time since he was a little boy, enjoying himself with the cousins. Friends who had not seen him in a long time were surprised to see him all grown up, and if I may brag a little, so handsome. Joe has penetrating green eyes, almost identical to the color of my own, that seem to look into your heart without giving a hint of what is in his own. We had some nice moments together, and he even told me he liked my shorter hair. I was thrilled.

    Concetta Migliore, who is now 87 years old, came to see "her boys" (Lenny and Tom) performing. She was the founder of The Rigatones. Although she used a wheelchair so that she wouldn't have to walk the long distances at Seattle Center, she still stood up and tucked under Lenny's right arm to play the keyboard of his accordion for two songs. They started this tradition several years ago when she no longer could lift her own heavy accordion. It's always the sentimental highlight of the weekend. I couldn't help but think of her and Johnny, her husband of 66 years, maybe more. They met back when the Rainier Valley was called Garlic Gulch. In those days all the Italians had big family picnics, and Johnny and Concetta met one summer day, beginning a lifelong devoted romance. I thought of them when I saw Tom's son Dominic Falcone falling in love with our cousin Alexandra. I wondered if we were all witnessing the beginning of their story, of their life together, and by their smiles, I could tell they were wondering the same thing.

    A lot of us parents talked about our children, worrying out loud about this talented group of kids, most of them entertainers like their parents, worrying about whether they would be able to make a living with music or art or cooking or service. We talk about how different it is for these kids in this world, this world of war and over consumption and fame and fortune and hardship, and we wondered if they will die young because they don't have health insurance. I suppose this world is not so very different from one we inherited in 1970, a world of god is dead make love not war materialism while big brother watches.

    And I have decided that romance is alive, and sometimes it happens right in front of the family. The kids will be ok, maybe better than we are, because they don't worry about the cost of living and the cost of war and healthcare. And I just have to remember that God is not dead, and for one afternoon in September he was hearing my prayers for our children at Festa at Seattle Center in the little garden as we sipped wine and sang all the words to all the songs, together.