Sunday, September 12, 2010

Illustration Friday--proverb

"L'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle"
"The love that moves the sun and the other stars." Elizabeth Gilbert—Eat Pray Love
I am not sure what makes a proverb and proverb and a quote a quote? I didn’t look it up to find out if there is a difference, they seem so similar. One thought I had was; maybe it’s like a good wine that needs to age. Could be a quote must stick around for a good 50 years or so, to even be considered a proverb. Just a thought. I like the quote above, so that’s my challenge word for this weeks Illustration Friday.

I’ve been reading the book Eat Pray Love. When I saw the movie was coming out with Julia Roberts in the lead role, and this great storyline, I knew that this was a movie I wanted to see. Once every now and again, a so called “Chick Flick” comes out, and I know it’s my solo movie. That was my intent when I purchased the book. I am trying to finish it before the movie’s run, is over. I just can’t seem to read this book fast, and I don’t want to. Also, since I’ve been enjoying it so much, I’m thinking about making this a girlfriend movie instead of a solo movie, seems like it should be shared.

At this point I’m about 15 pages away from India—at this rate, I may be watching it on DVD! As I read her adventures in Italy, I’ve been feeling such pride in my heritage. The detail the author gives on the beauty of the language, may be why I’m savoring it so.

I grew up with the Italian language. I was pretty much engulfed in it. Yet, I never learned to speak it. I picked up a few words here and there, some good, some not so good. Somewhere around the age of 13, I attempted to learn it, on the count of my Uncle Cosmo was coming from Italy to visit his sister, (my grandma Luisa) who he hadn’t seen in 50 years—can you imagine? There was even a big write up in the local newspaper. In any case, my limited attempts fell by the wayside. I only realized later in my life how much I took it all for granted. The dialect had been a part of my life until I was 29 years old. That’s when my grandfather died, and that’s when the language all but ceased. My Uncle Tony would stop by and visit with my Aunt Yolanda, (we called her Auntie Yo) and they would spurt out a few words here and there, but it wasn’t the long procession of words that once was. And little by little I began to notice it's absence, and began to miss it.

Just a little story to end with that sort of carries this point home on just how much I missed the language and dialect after it was gone.

One day I decided it was time to buy some decent pots and pans, so off I went to Sears. I was in the kitchen section, hidden well within the tight rows of kitchen goodies, when I heard the sweetest sounds coming from a few rows over to the side of me. A mother and her daughter speaking to each other in Italian! The old women had to be in her late seventies, and was going on and on in such a flurry of words, and with so much enthusiasm! It was as if my grandmother was speaking again! I hadn’t heard this kind of on-going dialogue in so many years, so I stayed hidden away, sneaking from row to row just to hear the fluency of the language. I don’t think they knew I was eavesdropping, they seemed way too preoccupied with their own task at hand. It brought back good memories. I felt sad and grateful at the same time.

PS-- I told my girlfriend Linda I wasn’t going to write a lot this week. She said, "Yes you will"--sometimes I hate when she’s right!
I'm wondering now if she’d like to travel to a movie with me—I mean how often is it that you can see 3 countries in 2 hours, in addition to a bunch of wonderful quotes!