Non
Grata:
Americans
Need Not Enter
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The Pretty Face of Italian
Law and Order |
If blame has to go somewhere, I
guess it would settle on my aunt, my Aunt Anita on my mother’s side to be exact. Mimicking a Dickens Madame Defarge character,
I blame her for my irresistible urge to clean-up and in general, the excessive need
to have things orderly around me. My
mother also had this particular neatnik trait, though thankfully not as
extreme. So apparently it runs in my
family like a genetic marker, if there is one peculiar to neatness. Mom always cleaned – cleaning, cleaning, cleaning
- especially on Saturdays, but not to the degree of my aunt. Besides, on Saturdays, I was usually outside just
about dawn to dusk playing at something, stopping in occasionally for a glass
of Kool-Aid. It would have been my
sisters then, who bore the brunt of it and got to appreciate mother at
housework. Way before YouTube, I got to
see Aunt Anita’s version of housekeeping when we’d stop by to visit. The imprinted memory I recollect best was
symbolic of her compulsion for orderliness.
Coming out of her kitchen, apron snug at her waist, into a living room
filled with family visitors, I’d watch as she scanned the room, like a modern day
drone, responsive to anything out of place or ajar in an effort to detect and
eliminate messes, some even before they occurred. Hers was much more than the occasional
coaster under a cold, sweating drink or organizing books on a shelf according
to their heights. She was prescient in
the way she could see where a little mess might lead. She’d lock onto an ashtray, one of those now out
of fashion types that stood by itself atop a floor-stand. About armrest high, I recall it had little
spring-loaded silver clips, like two tiny swans, their necks back to back, that
with a slight push would separate to hold a cigarette. I loved playing with them when she wasn’t
looking. While the occupant of the
adjacent chair was still smoking, while it was not full and certainly not a
fire hazard, she’d swoop in to empty the ashtray well in advance of any need. Funny how it’s little happenings like this
that I recall most.
As I grew older, I cultivated
the trait myself, like a habitual
tic. Had I been the unwitting
victim of a disorder, in line with the widespread fashion of “victimness” so
prevalent today? But I had help. Four years at a military academy only
reinforced my predisposition. I recall
once during room inspection, before the starchy Saturday parade, how it was
reinforced when an upperclassmen took the shade off my desk lamp, turned the
lamp
upside down and tapped it until a dead fly fell out. Silly games, but enough to find some
infraction and earn me demerits just shy of confinement in my room. I resolved to try harder - square the corners
of my bed tighter and fold my top drawer, showcase underwear onto their improvised
cardboard backings with nary a wrinkle. By
the book, in checklist fashion, was expected, required, demanded. Was it so critical? Would I ever need to be so anal-retentive, or
am I describing obsessive compulsiveness?
Was precision in the details so important? Once during a check-ride, I failed even
before I’d taxied out for takeoff. When
I’d tested the attitude indicator, I had turned the adjustment knob left then
right, when the flight manual prescribed “right then left.” Seemingly no biggie, but I’d failed. Had my exacting check-pilot just wanted to
make a point like that upperclassman? I
think so. Young and impressionable as I
was, he had. We learn from our mistakes. Years later, over Cambodia, while returning
from a mission, that kind of training saved my life and that of my crew when a
check of our cabin altimeter caught that our interior cabin altitude was equal
to the aircraft’s altitude. Not
good! Something was wrong with the crew
compartment pressurization. A leak in a
hatch seal had us almost unconscious by the time I caught it. Half asleep,
I’d turned my head first right,
not left, to scan a side console and caught sight of the cabin altimeter. Ingrained training to perform cockpit checks
every fifteen minutes had saved us. In
1999, a Learjet experienced a similar incident that took the life of PGA golfer Payne Stewart and all aboard due to hypoxia. They
cruised on autopilot for hours, as we would have, until they eventually ran out
of fuel and crashed in South Dakota. In
our case, it would have been far into the Indian Ocean. I sometimes wonder why, half unconscious, I’d
turned my head. Aunt Anita just may have
been watching over me and caught the insidious failure before it became a real mess.
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| Let's Have a Saturday Parade! |
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| The B-52D Stratofortress |
I seem to have momentarily drifted off
over the jungles of Cambodia here, but my intent was to make the point that
rules, restrictions, and procedures need to be followed, otherwise chaos and havoc
can ensue. In a word, rules “protect” us.
They provide an orderliness to life. Although some
may be simple guidelines, others are codified rules that we are expected to abide
by with harsh consequences to follow when violated. There are so many of us that without rules and
regulations, our modern civilization would soon revert to anarchy. Trouble begins when rules are disregarded. There may be no clear “check-rides” in life,
but consequences arise when we violate rules, metered out by the likes of judges
and occasionally even by Italian border guards.
We wanted to return to Italy this summer as
we usually do, but the European Union
(EU) and COVID put the kibosh to that idea. On
17 March, the EU closed its external borders and restricted nonessential travel
in response to the pandemic. On 11 June,
they gradually began lifting their restrictions. By 1 July, it allowed international arrivals from some countries. They included 14 countries such as Canada,
Japan, and New Zealand — but did not extend it to the good ol’ U.S. of A.
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| "The Boot" Known as Italy |
The EU allows
exemptions to its restrictive
travel rules for those who hold long-term visas. So, I guess
with the right travel documents, something better than a visa, like our Italian
passports, you’d think we’d be okay. But our
Italian passports might not be the godsend they may appear to be. If lifting the ban, were linked to long-term
residency, not simply
citizenship, there could be a problem, passport or not. With Italian passports, would we also need to apply for a visa in
order to return to the States? More
unanswered questions. By turns, it was
first “let’s go” then it changed to “let’s stay” until by fiat it became “we
can’t go”. I was willing to give it a try but with flights to
Europe limited and frequently canceled, we were stymied once again. Besides, it’s up to individual EU member
countries to implement the guidelines and it varies widely from one country to the
next. We’d hate to get there only to be
turned away by some immigration official.
Assuming we did manage to get there and got
to stay, there is the strong possibility we’d have to self-isolate
for two weeks. Being
quarantined also came with the added likelihood that authorities might want to
verify we were in compliance by conducting a no-notice inspection much like
those upperclassmen of old loved to perform.
If we failed their checkup, I understood we’d face a $1,250 fine, most
likely individually. Self-isolation in
our home there wouldn’t be too bad, so
long as we could venture out for necessities now and then. That said, how we would get from our arrival
point to Calitri, supposedly while in self-quarantine, was another big
unknown. Authorities might insist it
begin our isolation near our arrival airport. In Naples, and especially Rome, this would be
costly. There is also no telling what special
rules Calitri might impose. And then
there is the matter of the bug itself.
What if a resurgence of this Chinese scourge were to occur and we were
stuck there? And God forbid, what if one
or both of us were to catch it? From
Mare’s bone fracture experience while in Italy summers ago, there is no way
we’d ever want to repeat that medical hassle again.
One big question among many remains, just how long will
this ban continue? Estimates range from
lifting it soon to a frightfully late date as distant as June 2021. While the EU
reviews its list of allowed and prohibited countries every two weeks, we hold
little hope for an early repeal on embargoed Americans. Maria
Elena justifiably remains hesitant. The
prudent one between the two of us, she prefers to postpone our return until at
least 2021. Why not when 2020 has been
such a bad and ugly year, poised to get worse. The more I think about it, with all the unknowns
and risks, Mare just may be right. On
second thought, she is right. There are
just too many “I guess,” “maybe,” “might,” “what if,” “it appears”, “assuming”
… you get the idea. Lacking the
confidence of a seasoned card player, I don’t gamble either. But oh, just imagine the adventures and new
material I’d amass to eventually write about if we tried to “press to test” the
ban! Trained in a “straight arrow” mentality
to go by the book, I’ll opt to pass and let others roll the dice.
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| Cagliari, the Epicenter of the Controversy |
The
Associated Press put it this way:
“ ‘Rules must be respected, but there needs to
be some common sense,’ Sardinia’s regional tourism official, Gianni Cessa, said
after going to the airport following the incident out of a sense of solidarity with the detained
vacationers. But while applying the EU law, Sardinian
officials appeared to regret the effect on Americans. Sardinia’s regional
governor, Christian Salinas, had sought to test visitors for the virus upon
arrival, trying to balance the island’s need for tourism revenue during the
peak summer season with efforts to keep both tourists and residents safe. That proposal fell by the wayside, however. Salinas went on to blast the treatment the
Americans received. In a statement carried by the local Italian newspaper,
L’Unione Sarda, Salinas said ‘the singular restrictive
interpretation of the rules by the [National]
Government, opposed to our reasonableness to guarantee health security in this
case, has inflicted serious damage to the international tourist credibility of
our island and our sense of hospitality.’
He also noted that the island's government had ‘no responsibility for
what happened,’ and added that local authorities had attempted to find a
solution that would have allowed the entire group to stay in Sardinia.”
It remains
unclear why the group thought they would be allowed to enter
Italy. However, one of the passengers
said her group had "authorization" from the “Sardinian authorities”
before departing and that on arrival, they had offered to get tested and would
quarantine themselves at a rented holiday house. From all this, I get the feeling that
apparently the local government was sympathetic, willing to compromise, while
federal authorities were not.
Apparently, what “authorization” they may have had, came from the wrong
“Italians.”
During their sojourn at the airport, Federica Fanari, one of the passengers
who hails from Sardinia but lives in Germany, told local news site Casteddu
Online, "We were treated as if we were criminals, it's not fair." I can recall Maria Elena telling our children
that “life isn’t fair, you get to play the cards you are dealt.” While we’re all equal, some of us are gifted
with more abilities, some have debilitating health issues, some for instance are
better looking, but whatever our attributes, we’re expected to follow legally
established rules. You might even work
to get yourself a new hand. That card
game with the edict “Go Fish” comes to mind.
At some point, Italian authorities tried to "find a solution" to the
problem of the American travelers, a police spokesperson said, but there was no
way around the new federal decree then in affect. Reportedly, Federica's friends had been
With the advent of a worldwide virus and related
upheavals like the travel debacle just described, 2020 has so far been a very bad
year. It got uglier when riots erupted in
the US. If there is anything upright and
first-rate about 2020, some modicum of good about it, I await the news. As I was writing this, the year got even worse
when word that Italian trumpet player turned composer,Ennio
Morricone, passed away on 6 July at the age of 91 from injuries sustained in a
fall. Over his prolific life of
composition, Morricone composed over 500 scores for the cinema and
television, as well as over 100 classical works. Following his family’s arrival from tiny Arpino
in the mountains between Rome and Naples, he was born in Rome and lived about a
mile from the Vatican, on the western side of the Tiber, in Trastevere. It’s a place Mare and I consider the best part
of Rome. We have walked along Via delle
Fratte, where as a child he undoubtedly played under nearby, soaring, umbrella pines. Displaying a natural talent, Morricone wrote
his first compositions when he was only six years old and never stopped. Getting back to “good, bad, and ugly”, in the
States he is likely best known for his scores to what is referred to as the “Dollars
Trilogy” movies, those mythical Sergio Leone spaghetti westerns (click
to hear scores): A Fistful of
Dollars (1964), For a Few Dollars More
(1965) and the incomparable The Good, the
Bad and the Ugly (1966),
all starring Clint Eastwood. His score for The Good, the Bad and the Ugly,
is considered one of the most influential soundtracks in history, so
significant that it was inducted into the Grammy Hall of
Fame. It’s interesting to
note that Ennoi never troubled himself to learn to speak English. He didn’t need to for he never left Rome to
compose his music, instead, he let Hollywood come to him.
Considered one of the greatest and
most influential film composers
of all time, his film repertoire includes over 70 award-winning films,
including A Fistful of
Dollars, unforgettable Malèna
and another Sicilian
classic Cinema
Paradiso, La Cage aux
Folles, The Mission, as well as The Thing,
The
Untouchables, and the music for Mission to Mars starring
Gary Sinise. Throughout his career, he also
composed music for artists such as Paul Anka, Zucchero, Joan Baez, Andrea Bocelli, k.d. lang, Sting, Rita Pavone, Domenico
Modugno of Volare fame, and Mario Lanza to name a few. Crowning these accomplishments, he was
nominated for six Oscars. He waited until 2016 before capitalizing on
one Academy Award nomination. It was for
Quentin Tarantino's film, The Hateful Eight, that he was awarded the
Oscar for Best Original Score. His
obituary in The Economist summarized his life this way: “Deep down he
knew that music could make a film unforgettable. That was why Sergio Leone so often had him
compose the music before shooting started, rather than the reverse, which is
the way films are usually made, or even insisted the actors listen to the
soundtrack to get them into character. He
had just one piece of advice … ‘Forget
the film. Think of the record.’ Millions would agree.”
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| Morricone
with His Men – De Niro, Oscar, and “The Man With With No Name,” Eastwood |
This is
certainly one of the most challenging periods in recent memory. Someday, in the not too far distant, we will
look back on what happened. When we do,
Maria Elena and I with any luck will once again be on our terrace in Calitri, the
world, absent masks, having returned to its normal spin, able to once more see
smiling faces and gage expressions. At
the moment, although many do, it is far too early to play Monday morning
quarterback. It’s hard to fathom what is
right and what is wrong from the swirling supposed “information” we receive, much
of it mixed with orthodoxy. There is no manual
on our situation to tell us to “turn left” first or “turn right”. It is too big a mess even for my Aunt Anita
to swoop in and resolve. Best we let a
fusion of heart, the valued precedent of rules, and good judgment shepherd us.
As Morricone’s music may have taught us,
just as there are good heroic men with the right stuff, bad men, and even grotesque,
ugly men, so too are the times in which we live. Just as Morricone’s scores have outlived
their films, I don’t believe I’m being Pollyannaish to predict that we will
outlive this horrendous challenge. And this
too shall pass.
From
That Rogue Tourist
Paolo
