La Dolce Vita: The Sweet Life with Three Sons

Sunday, April 28, 2024

When 1 Golf Tournament = 10 Art Museums

I have a reputation. Not anything sinister, or lawbreaking. Just that I am known for dragging, coercing, or bribing my guys to walk through art museums with me. And everyone is always SO sympathetic. Poor Timothy. Poor Joe. What good sports they are! There evidence aplenty of their sacrifice: glazed eyes while standing in a room of Renaissance art, sitting slumped on benches waiting for mom to finish reading placards, the visible sigh when I pull them aside to describe chiaroscuro or sfumato.

But now it is time to be sympathetic for Bia, and it all started when I surprised Joe with two tickets to the RBC Heritage last Saturday. I declared it Joe’s Day!

The Venue: Hilton Head Island

The Menu: a full day at a golf tournament

The seating: none (we walked an 18-hole golf course many times)

The Weather: 85 degrees (but add in Hilton Head’s humidity, so like 110 degrees)

As you can see, sarcasm is starting to seep in, but first allow me to accentuate the positives!

Everything worked out perfectly: the ticket purchase, the shuttle ride to the tournament (we parked at the Discovery Center), the weather (it did not rain). It was exciting to be THIS CLOSE to famous golfers: Scotty Scheffler, Rory McIlroy, Justin Thomas. At one point I was three feet away from Keegan Bradley and I so wanted to say, “Hey Keegan. You rented our house last year!” But Joe wouldn’t let me. Golf etiquette is a real thing.

But now the sarcasm. It was sooooo hot. The thermometer registered 85 degrees (which sounds pleasant) but 85 degrees on Hilton Head is not a true temperature. Factor in no breeze, off-the-chart humidity and limited shade, and suddenly Hilton Head Island turns into Dante’s inferno.

Sticky. Sweaty. Oppressive.

But, it was Joe’s Day and I was a GOOD SPORT. Nary a complaint from me about the heat. I smiled as I drank my 10^th bottle of water. I offered nothing but enthusiastic support as we walked along with the sweaty, teeming mass of humanity following golfers over 18 holes (something we did several times).

In fact, we walked more on that golf course than our longest day in Disney World … without the itzakadoozie.

THIS is the point where you should be saying, “Poor Bia! What a good sport she is!” And you would be correct. Many, many times over.

Later that evening, once I showered and managed to lower my body temperature back into a normal range, I declared the following:

one golf tournament on Hilton Head = five art museums (at least)

After all, an art museum is air conditioned, there are benches, and you don't get sunburned.

So there. We are even.

Keegan Bradley, Rory McIlroy, Joe Novajosky ...

I'll let you figure out who is who.

Monday, April 22, 2024

Nine Photos for a 2,777th Birthday

Yesterday was Rome’s 2,777^th birthday so … BUON COMPLEANNO, ROMA! To commemorate, here are 9 of my favorite photos from past visits to the Eternal City … the funny, nostalgic, and downright scary.

1- Cheesy tourist shot. My friend Jill, with me on a whirlwind 3-night, 4-day trip to Rome for my 40^th birthday. Jill-the-gladiator with the killer instincts.

2- McDonald’s in Rome. Near the Pantheon my guys (big and little) spied the Golden Arches and wanted hamburgers for lunch. I was most annoyed when Joe agreed, but my heart melted when I took this photo. Then we got a gelato.

3- Two sisters, two photos (top 2015 and bottom 2023).

4- The correct way to toss a coin in the Trevi fountain: according to our friend and tour guide, Jane Stortiglione, one should use the left hand to toss the coin over your right shoulder. As you can see, three of us got it wrong. We laughed so hard. THEN we had to toss another coin to undo the bad toss.

5- Yowza. The same two sisters from #3 above, in front of Castel Sant’Angelo, in serious need of a gelato, or something.

6- First Girls’ Trip to Italy (2015). Within ONE HOUR of landing in Rome, we found a leather shop.

7- Back to front: The time my parents and I wanted to take two seminarians studying in Rome out to dinner and arranged to meet them in front of the Church of Santa Maria Maggiore. We waited and waited—where were they? Then we realized we were at the BACK of the church. We ran around to the front, very late, where we found the seminarians waiting for US.

8- With my sister in front of Michelangelo’s Pietà (photo taken by my friend, Julie).

9- Favorite photo. Ever. Totally captures my love of Rome and, indeed, of travel in general.

Sunday, April 21, 2024

Speak to Me Sunday: A Lesson from Shrek

On this Good Shepherd Sunday, I give you this photo of Shrek the sheep.

Poor Shrek. He was found after he had been hiding out in a cave for six years. In all that time, without anyone there to shear his fleece, it grew and grew. Most sheep have a fleece that weighs around ten pounds, but Shrek’s fleece weighed almost sixty.

Poor Shrek carried a monumental burden simply because he was away from his shepherd. In less than half an hour a professional sheep shearer removed his sixty pounds of fleece.

All that time burdened and alone, and all Shrek had to do was come home to his shepherd.

“Come to me, all you who labor and have been burdened, and I will refresh you.

Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart;

and you shall find rest for your souls.”

(Mt 11:28-30)

Friday, April 19, 2024

Reflections on a Wedding

At this very moment, Jonathan and Caroline are at Atlanta Hartsfield Airport waiting to board a flight for their honeymoon trip to London and Paris, and in honor of this I will (finally) write about their beautiful wedding last November.

It was a wedding that, in many ways, was nurtured during two back-to-back family weddings when Caroline was introduced to our entire family all at once—siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends. And she held her own with kindness and grace; in fact, at the end of that first family wedding (Nicholas and Lauren’s) my brother came up to me and said, “Okay. Can I tell you how much we love Caroline? Jonathan had better hold on to her!”

I should also mention that Caroline and I roomed together at both those back-to-back family weddings, and what better way to get to know someone than when sharing a room and talking late into the night? I already had one great daughter-in-law and, in my heart, I knew one day (hopefully soon!) I would be getting another one with Caroline.

So, my brother’s words were prophetic because we all loved Caroline and, indeed, Jonathan did hold on to her. Good job, Jono!

Which brings us to the wedding.

And this is where words fail me. Because how can words, lined up in neat rows, sentence after sentence and paragraph after paragraph, even begin to convey the myriad of emotions? It is like standing on the seashore and trying to capture a wave even as the next one comes rolling in.

Where to even begin? At the rehearsal dinner where the toasts had us simultaneously laughing and crying, or earlier in the day with the bridal tea at Dr. Bombay’s Underwater Tea Party? Or should I start with the sight of my son standing on the altar, looking handsome and grown up as he watched Caroline walk down the aisle? Or maybe I could begin with Monsignor’s homily, addressed directly to the couple, after which he gave them a bible with instructions to highlight all the readings they had chosen for their nuptial Mass and to use them as a blueprint for the rest of their lives?

How can words describe the sweetness of groomsmen, with boutonnieres in hand, waiting in line to have them pinned on? Or the quiet whispers of Caroline’s dress as her bridesmaids helped her get ready, and the shuffling of feet and murmuring of voices as guests began to arrive? How to describe the brilliant blue sky that seemed to sing Hosanna as we exited the church?

How can the three little letters in “joy” be sufficient to describe the exuberance of the guests dancing, or of Jonathan’s smile as he twirled his new bride across the dance floor? Or of all the guests singing along to “Sweet Caroline” during the father-daughter dance?

And the laughter, champagne bubbly, how to describe that? Or the magic of descending into a ballroom festooned with blue and white, accented with hints of gold and sprinkled with greenery, all magical and fairy-like. Or the love of the new couple, holding hands as they walked through an archway of sparklers to a future together as man and wife.

Words are too confining, so I will let the photos convey what I cannot.