It's almost Ferragosto, the "repose of
Augustus". This Italian holiday,
celebrated on the 15th of August, was officially set aside by the Church to
celebrate the Ascension of the Madonna, but ever since 18 BC, the era of Caesar
Augustus, Ferragosto has also been a day of rest and play. It's about picnicking and beach going, celebrating
the fleeting days of the bella stagione,
the beautiful season, as it reaches a climatic crescendo, normally under the solleone, the lion sun, referring to the
dog days. In English the word
"august" comes from the Latin augustus
which means "consecrated, venerable".
August in Italy has always been special, a quiet month of half-emptied
towns and cities serenaded by droning locusts and, lately, disturbed by burglar
alarms. Most people still take their main
vacation in August, leaving entire neighborhoods vulnerable to ever more brazen
thieves. By Ferragosto, what is called
the exodus, l'esodo, of traffic bound
for the mountains or the seashore has also reached a crescendo so that the
highways, not to mention city streets, become deserted for a brief spell. Many small businesses close until some time after
the holiday so that people staying at home for Ferragosto are forced to shop at
big supermarkets. Who is often at home? Gli
anziani. The elderly. At least, those who are not able to get away,
those who don't have grown children willing to take them along to the beach
house or to the apartment in the mountains.
The old folks who don't take vacations anymore, who live on meager
pensions, are happy if they can afford to buy a gelato or to sit at an outdoor
cafe. These are the invisible citizens
at Ferragosto, with or without seniors' centers to go to. These were the folks shopping en masse
yesterday, crowding the nearest supermarket here on the Venetian mainland. I was among them, one of the few under age 65. These elderly had all my attention for the
simple reason that I was there buying food gifts to take to the States as I
visit my own elderly father. For health
reasons, he has just left his home to enter a residence. But not long ago he too was like any of these
elderly shoppers around me. They are
weak but strong! Because of my dad, I am
struck by the sight of white-haired men whose spines are bent with age. I am moved by the sight of an old lady teetering
as she pulls her plaid trolley over the bumps in the sidewalk. My heart aches as I watch an aged person hand
a change purse over to the cashier, willing to trust someone else to fish out
the right amount. Worse are the worried
expressions of the "new poor" trying to get a good deal. Last week I was taken by the story of an
Italian couple in their nineties who were wailing behind the walls of their apartment. The police were called by neighbors and when
they arrived, they found this elderly couple merely starved for attention. What did the Italian officers do? They made them a dish of spaghetti. The photo of the old couple being served in
their little kitchen was published on line.
The other day, while I was choosing goodies and buying food for the cat
I'll leave behind, I suddenly
remembered how cowardly my friends and I were
back in our university days. None of us
was interested in living past the age of 60.
We associated such a mature age only with sickness and suffering. We were adolescents, of course. We had no idea how fast time goes, or that
often enough, life really does begin at 40, a popular notion in the U.S. Nowadays Americans like to say that "60
is the new 40," meaning that today life begins at 60! I don't know about that. Everything depends on one's state of mind and
one's health, and to some extent, also on the provisions one has already made
for old age. I do know that it takes
courage to stay open, curious and loyal to life even as the physical body begins
to decline, in the same way that decline happens to other living creatures, be
they plant or animal. We grow and we
peak and we whither, to be recycled by the earth, in theory. What animates us as we live, however, the
spirit, is every sentient being's birthright and lasting hope. Accepting old age and death is part of what
makes us spiritually strong. Honoring
the aged among us today no doubt will help make us truly august, that is, consecrated
and venerable, no matter how bent, no matter how blind, no matter how alone in
the city we may become in turn. UN'AMERICANA
A VENEZIA
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